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DA 
TH-f 

V.  X 


(Qatncll  HttiDecsitg  Htbtaci) 


FROM    THE 


BENNO  LOEWY  LIBRARY 

COLLECTED    BY 

BENNO  LOEWY 

1854-1919 

BEQUEATHED  TO   CORNELL    UNIVERSITY 


Cornell  University 
Library 


The  original  of  this  book  is  in 
the  Cornell  University  Library. 

There  are  no  known  copyright  restrictions  in 
the  United  States  on  the  use  of  the  text. 


http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924091765812 


Old  and  New  London  : 


A    NARRATIVE    OF 


Its  History,  its  People,  and  its  Places. 


BY 


Walter   Thornbury. 


31llu;stratfD  toit^  xmmtxaw  ffingraWngs  from  rije  mo^  g,wt|i«ntfc  gouww. 


VOL.     II. 


Cassell,  Petter  &  Galpin: 

LONDON,  PARIS  &-   NEW   YORK.  -,i,.-»rK!fV 


A.  n(oX15' 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 
fishmongers'    hall  and    fish   street   hill,  page 

The  Fishmongers'  Hall— William  Walworth— The  Wealth  and  Power  of  the  Old  Fishmongers :  their  Quarrels :  their  Records— The  Present 

Hall^Walworth's  Dagger— Walworth's  Pall— Fish  Street  Hill— The  Churchyard  of  St.  Leonard's— Goldsmith  and  Monument  Yard      .        I 

CHAPTER  11. 
LONDON  BRIDGE. 
"Old  Moll"— Legend  of  John  Overy— The  Old  Wooden  Bridge— The  First  Stone  Bridge— Insults  to  Queen  Eleanor— The  Head  of  Wallace- 
Tournament  on  London  Bridge— Welcome  to  Richard  II. — Murderers'  Heads— Return  of  Henry  V.— The  Poet  Lydgate — Funeral  of 
Henry  V, — Brawls  on  London  Bridge — Accident  to  a  Ducal  Barge— L-sUards'  Heads  on  the  Bridge — Entry  of  Henry  VI.— Fall  of  the 
End  Tower — Margaret  of  Anjou- Jack  Cade  and  his  Ruffianly  Crew — Falconhridge — Other  Heads  on  the  Bridge— Bishop  Fisher— Sir 
Thomas  More — Wyatt's  Rebellion — Restoration  in  Elizabeth's  Reign — ■Fire  on  the  Bridge— Removal  of  the  Houses— Temporary  Wooden 
Bridge — Smeaton's  Repairs — Rennie's  New  Bridge— Laying  the  First  Stone — Celebrated  Dwellers  on  the  Old  Bridge— The  Force. of 
Habit— Jewish  Tradition  about  London  Bridge— Average  Number  of  Passengers  over  the  Bridge 9 

CHAPTER  in. 

UPPER   THAMES   STREET. 

Noblemen's  Mansions  in  Thames  Street — Clarence's  House — Queen's  Pin-money — The  old  Legend  of  Queen  Eleanor — The  "Three  Cranes"  in 

the  Vintry— Cromwell's  Window— Chaucer's  Patron— Vintners'  Hall— Old  Wines— Wine  Patentees— The  Vintners'  Swans— The  Duke 

of  Buckingham's  House  on  College  Hill— Dryden's  Zimri — George  Villiers- The  Mercers'  School,  College  Hill — St.  Michael's  Church — 

Cleveland,  the  Poet     ....  ....  1 7 

CHAPTER  IV. 
UPPER  THAMES  STREET  {continued). 
Meichant  Taylors'  School — Old  Mulcaster — Anecdote  of  Bishop  Andrewes— Celebrated  Men  educated  at  Merchant  Taylors' — St.  James's, 
-Garlick  Hythe— Wat  Tyler's  Master— The  Steel  Yard— Holbein's  Pictures— Mr.  Ruskin  on  Holbein— The  Romans  in  Thames  Street- 
Roman  Walls — ^Thames  Street  Tributaries,  North — St  Bennet,  Paul's  Wharf— St.  Nicholas  Cole  Abbey — Fyefoot  Lane— Paper  Stainers' 
Hall — Pictures  belonging  to  the  Company — College  Hill — Dowgate — The  Skinners  ;  their  Origin  and  History — The  Hall  of  the  Skinners' 
Company — Parish  Church  of  St.  Lawrence  Poultry — Curious  -  Epitaphs— AUhallows-the-Great — Swan  Stairs — Dyers'  Hall — Joiners'  Hall 
— Calamy's  Strange  Adventure -. 28 

CHAPTER  V. 

LOWER      THAMES      STREET. 

Septem  Camerse — A  Legend  about  Billingsgate — Hogarth  visits  it — Henry  Mayhew's  Description  of  it — Billingsgate  Dock  in  King  Ethelred*s 

Time — The  Price  of  Fish,  as  regulated  by  Edward  I. — Billingsgate  constituted  a  Free  and  Open  Market  by  Act  of  Parliament — Fish 

Monopolists  and  their  Evil  Practices — ^The  Habitual  Frequenters  of  Billingsgate — ^The  Market  at  its  Height — Oyster  Street — Fishing  in 

the  Thames  a  Long  Time  ago— A  Sad  Falling-ofF— A  Curious  Billingsgate  Custom — A  Thieves'  College— The  Coal  Exchange — Discovery 

of  Roman  Remains  on  its  Site — The  Watermen's  Hall—Thames  Watermen  and  Wherrymen — Fellowship  Porters'  Hall — The  Custom 

'    House— Growth-of  the  Revenue — The  New  Building — Customs  Officials— Curious  Stories  of  the  Customs— Cowper  and  his  Intended 

Suicide — The  System  of  Business  in  the  Custom  House— Custom  House  Sales — "  Passing  "  Baggage 4  ^ 

CHAPTER    VI. 
THE         TOWER 
Caesar's  Tower— Bishop  Gundulfus— Henry  III.'s  Buildings— The  White  Tower- Free  Access  to  the  Tower  claimed  hy  London  Citizens— 
Flambard's  Escape — Prince  Griffin— Thomas  de  Beauchamp— Charles  of.  Orleans— Lord  Cobham— Wyatt  and  his  Cat— Murder  of  the 
-   Young  Princes— The  Earl  of  Surrey— Pilgrims  of  Grace— Lady  Jane  Grey— Sir  Thomas  Wyat— The  "  White  Rose  of  York  "  .        .        .     6o 

CHAPTER    VII. 

THE         TOWER       (continued). 

Queen  Elizabeth's  Prisoners  in  the  Tower— The  Bishop  of  Ross  at  Work  again— Charles  Bailly— Philip  Howard— Earl  of  Essex— Sir  Walter 

Raleigh  in  the  Tower — ^James  I.  and  the  Gunpowder  Plot — Guy  Fawkes— Father  Garnet— Percy — Arabella  Stuart — Murder  of  Sir 

Thomas  Overbury — Felton—Prynne— Strafford  and  Laud— A  Long  Roll  of  Notable  Tower  Prisoners— The   Spa  Fields  Riots-The 

Cato  Street  Conspirators 1^ 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  TOWER  (continued). 
The  Jewels  of  the  Tower— The  Imperial  State  Crown— St.  Edward's  Crown— Prince  of  Wales's  Crown— Ancient  Queen's  Crown— The  Queen's 
Diadem,  or  Circlet  of  Gold— The  Orb— St.  Edward's  Staff— The  King's  Sceptres— The  Queen's  Sceptre— The  Queen's  Ivory  Rod— The 
Ampulla— The  Curtana,  or  Sword  of  Mercy— Bracelets— The  Royal  Spurs— The  Saltcellar  of  State — Blood's  Desperate  Attempt  to 
Steal  the  Regalia— The  Tower  Armouries— Absurd  Errors  in  their  Arrangement— Chain  Mail— German  Fluted  Armour— Henry  VIII. 's 
Suit  of  Armour— Horse  Armour— Tilting  Suit  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester— A  Series  of  Strange  Blunders— Curiosities  of  the  Armoury- 
Naval  Relics— Antiquities '77 


iv  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE        TOWER      (continued).  p 

Tlie  Tower  of  London  Officials— Locking-up  the  Tower-The  Tower  Menagerie— The  Moat— The  Church  of  St.  Peter  ad  Vincula— Early- 
Sufferers  for  State  Errors— Gerald  Fitzgerald— Fisher— Lord  Seymour  of  Dudley— The  Protector  Somerset— The  Earl  of  Essex— Sir 
Thomas  Overhury— Anne  Boleyn— The  Monuments  in  St.  Peter  ad  Vincula— A  Blood-stained  Spot— Historical  Treasure  Trove— The 
Waterloo  Barracks— The  Royal  Mint-Nooks  and  Corners  oftheTower—Its  Terrible  Cells— The  Tower  Ghost 


88 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE    NEIGHBOURHOOD     OF    THE     TOWER. 
Tower  Hill — Some  of  its  Ghastly  Associations— A  Great  Whig  Downfall— Perambulating  the  "  Bounds  "  of  the  Tower  Liberties — Famous 
Residents  on  Tower  Hill— Lady  Raleigh— William  Penn— Otway,  and  the  Story  of  his  Death— Felton's  Knife— Old  Houses— Spenser- 
Great  Tower  Street  and  Peter  the  Great— Bakers'  Hall— Thomson,  the  Poet— A  Strange  Corruption  of  a  Name— Seething  Lane— The 
Old  Navy  Office  ....  ...     95 

CHAPTER   XI. 
THE   NEIGHBOURHOOD    OF   THE  TOWER. — THE   MINT. 
The  Mint  at  the  Tower— The  First  Silver  Penny— Dishonest  Minters— The  First  English  Gold  Coinage— Curious  Anecdote  respecting  the 
SilverGroatsof  Henry  IV.— First  Appearance  of  the  Sovereign  and  the  Shilling— Debasement  of  the  Coin  in  the  Reigns  of  Henry  VIII. 
and  Edward  VI. — Ecclesiastical  Comptrollers  of  the  Mint — Guineas  and  Copper  Coins — Queen  Anne's  Farthings — The  Sources  from 
which  the  English  Mint  has  been  supplied  with  Bu  llion — Alchemists  encouraged — The  Mint  as  it  is .   lOO 

CHAPTER  XII. 
THE   NEIGHBOURHOOD   OF  THE   TOWER   {continued). 
The  Jewry— Allhallows  Church— Terrible  Gunpowder  Accident  near  the  Church — Famous  Men  buried  at  Allhallows — Monumental  Brasses— St. 
Olave's  Church— Dr.  W.  Turner— Sir  John  Minnes— A  Well-known  Couplet — Pepys' Wife — "Poor  Tom"— Sir  J.  RadclifFe— Antiquities 
of  the  Church— Pepys  on  Allhallows— St.  Dunstan's-in-the-East— Wren's  Repairs— The  Register   Books— Old  Roman  Tower— The 
Trinity  House  and  its  Corporation^The  Present  Building— Decorations  and  Portraits — Famous  Masters— A  Bit  of  Old  Wall  .  IO7 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

ST.       KATHERINe's      DOCKS. 
St.  Katherine's  Hospital— Its  Royal  Benefactors  in  Former  Times— The  Fair  on  Tower  Hill— Seizure  of  ths  Hospital  Revenues  at  the 
Reformation— The  Dreadful  Fire  of  1672— Three  Luckless  Gordon  Rioters— St.  Katherine's  Church— The  9nly  Preferment.in  the  Right 
of  the  Queen  Consort — St.  Katherine's  Docks — Unloading  Ships  there — Labourers  employed  in  them — Appticants  for  Work  at  the 
Docks — A  Precarious  Living — Contrasts  .  ..  ..  II7 

'  CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   TOWER   SUBWAY   AND   LONDON   DOCKS. 
London  Apoplectic— Early  Subways— The  Tower  Subway— London  Breweries  in  the  Time  of  the  Tudors— The  West  India,  East  India,  and 

London  Docks— A  Tasting  Order  for  the  Docks— The  "  Queen's  Pipe  "—Curious  "  Treasure  Trove "  .        .        .  ,        .  122 

CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  THAMES  TUNNEL,  RATCLIFF  HIGHWAY,  AND  WAPPING. 
Sub-river  Tunnels  in  the  Coal-mining  Districts— First  Proposals  for  a  Tunnel  under  the  Thames— Its  Csmmencement— A  Dangerous  Irruption 
—Brave  Labourers— A  Terrible  Crisis— Narrow  Escapes— The  Last  Irruptions— The  Tunnel  opened  for  Traffic— Ratdiff  Highway— The 
Wild  Beast  Shops— The  Marr  and  Williamson  Murders— Swedenborg-Wapping-Hanging  the  Pirates  in  Chains — Townsend's  Evidence 
—Capture  of  Jeffreys— Stag  Hunting  in  Wapping— Boswell's  Futile  Exploration— The  Fuchsia— Public-house  Signs— Wapping  Old 
Stairs — Shadwell  and  its  Springs        ...  £28 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

STEPNEY. 
Derivation  of  the  Name— Noble  Families  in  Stepney— An  Attack  of  the  Plague— The  Parish  Church— Monuments— "  The  Cruel  Knight  "—Sir 
John  Leake— Celebrated  Incumbents— Colet— Pace— Roger   Crab,  "The   English  Hermit  "—Dissenting  Congregation  at  Stepney— 
Greenhill— Mead— Shadwell— Stepney  "  Parishioners  "    .  ....  ....  1 37 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
WHITECHAPEL. 
Strype's  Account— Mention  of  Whitechapel  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  and  Defoe-St.  Mary  Matfellon— Its  Great  Antiquity— Old  Religious 
Custom-"  Judas  the  Tray  tor  "—Burials  at  Whitechapel— The  Executioner  of  Charles  I.— Rosemary  Lane— Petticoat  Lane  and  the  Old 
Clothes  Sales— A  Lucky  Find— Poverty  in  Whitechapel— The  London  Hospital— The  Danish  Church— The  Goodman's  Fields  Theatre    .   I42 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BETHNAL         GREEN. 
Origin  of  the  Name-The  Ballad  of  the  Blind  Beggar  of  Bethnal  Green-Kirby's  Castle-The  Bethnal  Green  Museum-Sir  Richard  Wallace's 

Collection- Nichol  Street  and  its  Population— The  French  Hospital  in  Bethnal  Green  and  its  Present  Site I46 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

SPITALFIELDS. 
The  Priory  of  St.  Mary,  Spittle-A  Royal  Visit-The  SpitaV  Sermons-A  Long  Sermon-Roman  Remains-The   Silk  Weavers-French 

Names,  and  Modem  Versions  of  them-Riots  in  Spitalfields-Bird  Fanciers-Small  Heads—"  Cat  and  Dog  Money  "         .        .        .        .149 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

BISHOPSGATE.  pace 

The  Old  Gate— The  "  White  Hart  "—Sir  Paul  Pindar's  House  :  its  Ancient  Glories  and  Present  Condition— The  Lodge  in  Half-moon  Alley— 
St.  Helen's  and  the  Nuns'  Hall — The  Tombs — Sir  Julius  Caesar — Sir  John  Crosby — Modern  Improvements — ^The  Windows — Crosby 
Hall  and  its  History — ^Allusions  to  it  in  Shakespeare — Famous  Tenants  of  Crosby  Hall — Richard  .Crookback — Sir  Thomas  More — 
Eonvici J       .       .       .       .  152 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
BISHOPSGATE  {continued). 

Old  Houses  ^nd  Architectural  Relics — St. ,  Botolph'^  Church  and  its  Records — St.  Ethelburga — Sir  Thomas  Gresham's  House— Gresham 
College— Sir  Kenelm  Digby— The  New  College— Jews'  Synagogue  in  Great  St.  Helen's— The  Leathersellers'  Hall— The  "  Bull "  Inn— 
Burbage — Hobson — Milton's  Epitaph— Teasel  Close  and  the  Trained  Bands — Devonshire  Square — Fisher's  "  Folly  " — Houndsditch 
and  its  Inhabitants— The  Old-Clothes  Men— Hand  Alley— Bevis  Marks— The  Papey— Old  Broad  Street— The  Excise  Office— Sir 
Astley  Cooper— A  Roman  Pavement  Discovered — St.  Peter-le-Poer — Austin  Friars — Winchester  House — AUhallows-in-the-Wall — 
London  Wall— Sion  College       ...  158 

•CHAPTER  XXII. 

CORNHILL,    GRACECHURCH    STREET,    AND   FENCHURCH    STREET. 

Mediaeval  Comhill— The  Standard— St.  Michael's,  Comhill— St.  Peter's— The  First  London  Printsellers— A  Comedian's  Tragedy— Dreadful 
Fire  in  CornhiU — The  First  Coffee-house  in  London — "Garraway's" — Birchin  Lane — St.  Bennet  Gracechurch — George  Fox — Fen- 
church  Street — Denmark  House — St.  Dionis  Backdiurch— The  Church  of  St.  Margaret  Pattens — Billiter  Street — Ironmongers'  Hall — 
Mincing  Lane — The  Clothworkers'  Company — The  Mark  Lane  Com  Exchange — The  Corn  Ports  of  London — Statistics  and  Curiosities 
ofthe  Corn  Trade— An  Old  Relic .  170 

•      ■  CHAPTER   XXIII. 

LEADENHALL  STREET  AND  THE  OLD  EAST  INDIA  HOUSE. 
The  Old  East  India  House — Fapade  of  the  Old  Building — ^The  Ground  Floor — Distinguished  Servants  of  the  Company — The  Real  Commence- 
ment of  our  Trade  with  India — Injustice  of  the  Stuarts  towards  the  East  India  Company — Dissensions — The  Company's  Court  of 
Directors  rendered  subordinate  to  the  Government — Abolition  of  the  Company's  Trading  Powers — The'General  Court  of  Proprietors — 
The  Board  of  Control — "John  Company's"  Establishment — Despatches  and  Letters  from  India — Charles  Lamb  as  Clerk  in  the  Old 
East  India  House — ^The  Government  of  the  Indian  Army  transferred  to  the  Crown — The  Present  Council  of  India — Peter  Anthony 
Motteux's  "  India  House  " — Lime  Street— Colonel  Turner 183 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

LEADENHALL   STREET   {continued). 

The  Old  Market — St.  Catherine  Cree  Church — Laud's  Folly  at  the  Consecration — The  Annual  "  Flower  Sermons  " — St.  Mary  Axe — A  Roman 

Pavement — House  of  the  De  Veres — St  Andrew  Undershaft — Sawing  up  the  Maypole— Stow's  Monument 1 88 

CHAPTER   XXV. 

SHOREDITCH. 

^e  Famous  Legend  respecting  Shoreditch — Sir  John  dp  Soerditch — "The  Duke  of  Shoreditch " — Archery  Competitions  of  the  Sixteenth 

Century — St.  Leonard's  Church — Celebrated  Men  of  Elizabeth's  Time — The  Fairchild  Sermon — Holywell  Lane — The  "  Curtain"  Theatre  194 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 

'    MOORFIELDS    AND     FINSBURY. 

The  Early  Days  of  Moorfields— Curious  Skates— Various  Moorfield  Scenes— A  Fray  between  Butchers  and  Bakers — The  Carpenters'  Company 
and  their  Hall— Moorfields  at  the  Time  of  the  Great  Fire— The  Artillery  Ground— The  Trained- Bands— The  Tabernacle  in  Moorfields— 
The  Old  Bedlam — Miscellaneous  Trades  in  Moorfields — The  Hospital  of  St.  Luke — The  Present  Hospital — Peerless  Pool — St.  Luke's 
Church — Finsbury  Fields — An  Old-fashioned  Medical  Quarter  of  London— Great  Change  in  the  Character  of  the  Inhabitants  of 
Finsbury — Bunhill  Fields  Burial  Ground — ^The  Great  Plague  Pit  in  Finsbury — Finsbury  as  an  Ecclesiastical  Property — Treaties  for 
the  Transfer  of  Bunhill  Fields  Cemetery  to  the  Dissenters — Negotiations  between  the  City  Corporations  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Com- 
missioners— Lackington  and  his  History — The  London  Institution — Finsbury  Pavement       .        .  .19^ 

CHAPTER  XXVn. 
ALDERSGATE  STREET  AND  ST.  MARTIN'S-LE-GRAND. 
Origin  of  the  Name— History  of  the  Old  Gate — Its  Demolition— The  General  Post  Office— Origin  of  the  Penny  Post— Manley— Bishop— The 
Duke  of  York's  Monopoly — Murray's  Post — Dockwra — Absorption  of  the  Penny  Post  by  Government — Allen's  "Cross  Posts  "—Postal 
Reformers— John  Palmer,  of  Bath — Procession  of  Mail  Coaches  on  the  King's  Birthday— The  Money  Order  Office— Rowland  Hill's 
Penny  Post— The  Post  Office  removed  to  St.  Martin's-le-Grand— Statistics  and  Curiosities  of  the  Po.st  Office — Stamping— Curious 
Addresses— Report  on  the  Post  Office  Savings'  Bank — Posting  the  Newspapers— The  Site  of  the  Present  Post  Office— St.  Martin's 
College — Discovery  of  Antiquities — The  New  Buildings — The  Telegraph  Departm'ent — Old  Houses  in  Aldersgate  Street — The  "  Bull 
and  Mouth"— Milton's  House — Shaftesbury  House— Petre  House— St.  Botolph's  Church — The  So-called  Shakespeare's  House — The 
Barbican  and  Prince  Rupert — The  Fortune  Theatre — The  "Nursery" — Little  Britain— The  "  Albion  '* 205 

CHAPTER  XXVni. 

ALDERSGATE   STREET   {continued). 
Sir  Nicholas   Bacon— The  Fighting  Earl  of  Peterborough— A  Knavish  Duke— The  Cooks'   Company— Noble  Street— The  "  Half-moon 
Tavern,"  a  House  of  Call  for  Wits— The  "  Bell  Inn  "—The  City  Road— Founding  of  Bunhill  Fields  Chapel— The  Grecian  Saloon— 
The  "  Old  Milestone,"  City  Road— Northumberland  House  in  the  City— The  French  Protestant  Church  in  St.  Martin's-le-Grand    .        .  220 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

CRIPPLEGATE.  page 

Miracles  performed  by  Edmund  the  Martyr  after  Death— Cripplegate— The  Church  of  St.  Giles— The  Tomb  of  John  Speed— The  Legend  of 
Constance  Whitney— Sir  Martin  Frobisher— Milton's  Grave  outraged— The  Author  of  "The  Book  of  Martyrs:"  his  Fortunate  Escape 
from  Bishop  Gardiner — St.  Alphage,  London  Wall — An  Old  State  Funeral — The  Barber-Surgeons'  Hall;  its  Famous  Picture 
of  Henry  VI n. — Holbein's  Death^Treasures  in  Barber-Surgeons'  Hall:  its  Plate  Stolen  and  Recovered — Another  Kind  of 
Recovery  there— Lambe,  the  Benevolent  Clothworker — ^The  Perambulation  of  Cripplegate  Parish  in  Olden  Time — Basinghall  Street — 
St.  Michael's  Bassishaw — William  Lee,  the  Inventor  of  the  Stocking-loom — Minor  City  Companies  in  the  Neighbourhood  of  Basinghall 
Street — ^The  Bankruptcy  Court — ^Whitecross  Street  and  its  Prison— The  Dissenters'  Library  in  Whitecross  Street — A  Curious  Anecdote 
about  Redcross  Street— Grub  Street— The  Haunts  of  Poor  Authors— Johnson  in  Grub  Street — Henry  Welby,  the  Grub  Street  Recluse — 
General  Monk's  House — Whittington's  House — Coleman  Street  and  the  Puritan  Leaders — ^Venner,  the  Fanatic  —  Goodwin — St. 
Stephen's  Church — Armourers'  Hall 229 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

ALDGATE,   THE   MINORIES,    AND   CRUTCHED    FRIARS. 
The  Aldgate  of  1606— Brave  Doings  at  Aldgate— The  Conduit— Duke's  Place— The  Priory  of  the  Holy  Trinity— The  Jews  in  Aldgate— 
The  Abbey  of  St.  Clare— Goodman's  Fields— The  Minories— A  Fine  Old  London  House— Crutched   Friars — Sir  John  Milborne— 
The  Drapers'  Almshouses , 245 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

ISLINGTON. 
Etymolegy  of  the  Word  "  Islington  "—Beauty  of  the  Place  in  Early  Times— fhe  Old  Northern  Roads— Archery  at  Islington— A  Royal 
Patron  of  Archery— The  Archers'  Marks— The  "  Robin  Hood  "— Topham,  the  Strong  Man— Llewellyn  and  the  Welsh  Barons— Algernon 
Percy's  House— Reformers' Meeting  at  the  "Saracen's  Head"— Queen  Elizabeth  and  the  Islington  Beggars— Later  Royal  Visitors 
to  IsHngton— Citizens'  Pleasure  Parties— Cream  and  Cake— Outbreak  of  the  Plague— Bunbury  and  the  "  New  Paradise  "—The  Old 
"Queen'sHead"—TheLondonHospital— Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  House— TheOld  "PiedBuU"—The"Angel"         ....        .  251 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
ISLINGTON  {continued). 
The  Old  Parish  Church  of  Islington— Scaffolding  superseded— A  Sadly-interesting  Grave— Fisher  House— George  Morland,  the  Artist — A 
Great  Islington  Family— Celebrities  of  Cross  Street— John  Quick,  the  Comedian— The  Abduction  of  a  Child— Laycock's  Dairy  Farm- 
Alexander  Cruden,  the  Author  of  the  "  Concordance  "—WiUiam  Hawes,  the  Founder  of  the  Royal  Humane  Society— Charles  Lamb  at 
Islington— William  Woodfall  and  "  Colley  Cibber"— Baron  D'Aguilar,  the  Miser— St.  Peter's  Church,  Islington— Irvingites  at  Islington 
—The  New  River  and  Sir  Hugh  Myddelton— The  Opening  Ceremony— Collins,  the  Poet— The  "Crown"  Inn— Hunsden  House- 
Islington  Celebrities— Mrs.  Barbauld— The  "  Duke's  Head"— Topham,  the  "Strong  Man"         261 

CHAPTER   XXXIII. 
CANONBURY. 
The    Manor  of  Canonbury— The   Rich  Spencer  — Sweet  Tyranny— Canonbury  House— Precautions  against  another  Flood- A  Literary 

Retreat— The  Special  Glory  of  a  Famous  House — ^The  Decorative  Taste  of  a  Former  Age 269 

CHAPTER   XXXIV. 
HIGHBURY — UPPER   HOLLOWAY — KING's   CROSS. 
Jack  Straw's  Castle— A  Famous  Hunt— A  Celebrity  of  Highbury  Place— Highbury  Barn  and  the  Highbury  Society— Cream  Hall— Highbury 
Independent  College— "The  Mother  Redcap  "—The  Blount  Family— Hornsey  Road  and  "The  Devil's  House  "  therein— Turpin,  the 
Highwayman— The  Corporation  of  Stroud  Green— Copenhagen  Fields— The  Corresponding  Society— Home  Tooke— Maiden  Lane- 
Battle  Bridge— The  "  King's  Cross"— Dust  Heaps  and  Cinder  Sifters— Small-pox  Hospital— The  Great  Northern  Railway  Station  .        .  273 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

PENTONVILLE. 
Origin  of  the  Name— The  "  Belvidere  Tavern"- The  Society  of  Bull  Feathers'  Hall— Penton  Street— Joe  Grimaldi— Christ  Church—"  White 
Conduit  House  ;"  Oliver  Goldsmith  a  Visitor  there— Ancient  Conduits  at  Pentonville— Christopher  Bartholomew's  Reverses  of  Fortune— 
The  Pentonville  Penitentiary— The  Islington  Cattle  Market— A  Daring  Scheme— Celebrated  Inhabitants  of  Hermes  Hill— Dr  de 
Valangin-"  Sinner-saved  Huntington  "—Joe  Grimaldi  and  the  Dreadful  Accident  at  Sadler's  Wells— King's  Row  and  Happy  Man's 
Place— Thomas  Cooke,  the  Miser-St.  James's  Chapel,  Pentonville-A  Blind  Man's  Favourite  Amusement-Clerkenwell  in  1780— 
PentonviUeChapel— Prospect  House— "Dobney's"— The  Female  Penitentiary— A  Terrible  Tragedy  .        .        .  370 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

SADLER'S  WELLS. 
Discovery  of  a  Holy  Well-Fashion  patronises  it-The  Eariy  Days  of  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre-A  Fatal  Panic-Sadler's  Wells'  Visitors-A 
Grub  Street  Eulogy-Eighteenth  Century  Acrobats-Joe  Grimaldi's  Father-Dogs  that  deserved  a  Good  Name-Theatrical  Celebrities 
?..^*'^  w^  -;;:  i.'™-  *=J^'^S™;^;?  Samson-"  Hot  Codlins "-Advent  of  T.  P.  Cooke-Samuel  Phelps  becomes  Lessee  at 
Sadler sWells-The  Original  House  of  Correction-The  "Sir  Hugh  Myddelton "  Tavern-A  Sadler's  Wells  Theatrical  Cempany- 
bpencers  Breakfasting  House— George  Alexander  Stevens' Lectures  on  Heads 280 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

BAGNIGGE        WELLS. 
Nell  Gwynne  at  Bagnigge  Wells-Bagnigge  House-"  Black  Mary's  Hole  "-The  Royal  Bagnigge  Wells— " The 'Prentice  to  his  Mistress" 

— "A  Bagnigge  Wells  Scene  "—Mr.  Deputy  Dumpling— Curious  Print  of  Bagnigge  Wells 2q6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

COLDBATH     FIELDS    AND     SPA     FIELDS.  page 

Coldbath  Fields  Prison —Thistlewood  and  his  Co-conspirators  there— John  Hunt  there — Mr.  Hepworth  Dixon's  Account  of  Coldbath  Fields 
Prison — The  Cold  Bath — Budgell,  the  Author — An  Eccentric  Centenarian's  Street  Dress — Spa  Fields — Rude  Sports — Gooseberry  Fair — 
An  Ox  roasted  whole— Ducking-pond  Fields— Clerkenwell  Fields— Spa  Fields— Pipe  Fields— Spa  Fields  Chapel— The  Countess  of 
Huntingdon— Great  Bath  Street,  Coldbath  Fields— Topham,  the  "  Strong  Man"— Swedenborg— Spa  Fields  Burial  Ground— Crawford's 
Passage,  or  Pickled  Egg  Walk 298 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

HOCKLEY-I N-THE-HOLE. 

Ray  Street— Bear  Garden  of  Hockley-in-the-Hole— Amusements  at  Hockley— Bear-baiting— Christopher  Preston  killed— Indian  Kings  at 

Hockley— Bill  of  the  Bear  Garden— Dick  Turpin 306 

CHAPTER   XL. 

CLERKENWELL. 

House  of  Detention — Explosion,  and  Attempted  Rescue  of  Fenian  Prisoners— St.  John's  Gate— Knights  Hospitallers  and  Knights  Templars — 
Rules  and  Privileges  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John — Revival  of  the  Order — Change  of  Dress — The  Priors  of  Clerkenwell  and  the  Priory 
Church — Its  Destruction — Henry  II. 's  Council— Royal  Visitors  at  the  Priory— The  Present  Church— The  Cock  Lane  Ghost— St.  John's 
Gate — ^The  Jerusalem  Tavern — Cave  and  the  Gentleman's  Magazine — Relics  of  Johnson — The  Urban  Club — Hicks's  Hall — Red  Lion  * 
Street  and  its  Associations — St.  John's  Square  and  its  Noble  Inhabitants  -Wilkes's  Birthplace — Modern  Industries  in  Clerkenwell — 
Burnet  House  and  its  Inmates — Bishop  Burnet — Clarke,  the  Commentator — An  Unjust  Judge — Poole,  of  the  Synopsis— ^&s^3i\s'  College 
discovered '.        .  3^9 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

CLERKENWELL   {continued). 

The  Early  Days  of  Croquet— Clerkenwell  Close— Thomas  Weaver— Sir  Thomas  Challoner— The  Fourth  Earl  of  Clanrlcarde— A  Right  Mad 
Doctor — Newcastle  Place  and  its  Inhabitants — Clerkenwell  Green — Izaak  Walton — Jack  Adams,  the  Clerkenwell  Simplet6n — ^The  Lamb 
and  Flag  Ragged  School — The  Northampton  Family — Miss  Ray — ^The  Bewiclcs — Aylesbury  House  and  its  Associations— The  Musical 
Small-coal  Man — Berkeley  Street—"  Sally  in  our  Alley  " — Red  Bull  Theatre— Ward's  Public-house — The  Old  and  New  Church  of  St. 
James  .  , 328 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

SMITHFIELD. 
Bartholomew  Fair— A  Seven  Days'  Tournament— Duels  and  Trial  by  Ordeal  in  Smithfteld— Terrible  Instances  of  the  Odium  Theologiaim— 
The  Maid  of  Kent— Foxe's  Account  of  the  Smithfield  Martyrs— The  Smithfield  Gallows— William  Wallace  in  Smithfield— Bartholomew 
Priory— The  Origin  of  Bartholomew  Fair— St.  Bartholomew  becomes  popular  with  Sailors— Miscellaneous  Occupiers  of  Smithfield — 
Generosity  of  English  Kings  to  St.  Bartholomew's— A  Religious  Brawl— The  London  Parish  Clerks  in  Smithfield— The  Court  of 
Pie-poudre  .,..• 339 

CHAPTER   XLII  I. 

SMITHFIELD   AND    BARTHOLOMEW   FAIR. 

The  Mulberry-garden  at  St.  Bartholomew's— Prior  Bolton— The  Growth  of  Bartholomew  Fair— Smithfield  reduced  to  Order—"  Ruffians' 

Hall"— Ben  Jonson  at  Bartholomew  Fair— A  Frenchman's  Adventures  there— Ned  Ward's  Account— The  Beggar's  Opera—"  John 

Audley"— Garrick    meets  .a    Brother   Actor— A   Dangerous   Neighbourhood— Old  Smithfield   Market— Remains  of  the  Smithfield 

Burnings — Discovery  of  Human  Remains ■• 34-.- 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE  CHURCHES  OF  BARTHOLOMEW-THE-GREAT  AND  BARTHOLOMEW-THE-LESS. 
The  Old  Bartholomew  Priory— Its  Old  Privileges— Its  Revenues  and  Early  Seals— The  Present  Church— The  Refectory  of  the  Priory— The 
Crypt  and  Chapel— Various  Interesting  Remains  of  the  Old.  Priory— The  Monuments  of  Rayer,  the  Founder,  Robert  Chamberlain, 
and  Sir  Walter  Mildmay— The  Smallpage  Family— The  Old  and  New  Vestry  Rooms— The  Monument  to  Abigail  Coult— The  Story  of 
Roger  Walden,  Bishop  of  London— Dr.  Francis  Anthony,  the  Physician— His  Aurum  Potabile—lhei  Priory  of  St.  Bartholomew-the- 
Great  as  an  Historical  Centre— Visions  of  the  Past— Cloth  Fair— The  Dimensions  of  St  Bartholomew-the-Great- Old  Monuments  in  St. 
Bartholomew-the-Less- Injudicious  Alterations— The  Tower  of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Less— The  Tomb  of  Freke,  the  Eminent  Surgeon  351 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
ST.    Bartholomew's   hospital. 

I's  Barly  History— The  Presidency  of  the  Royal  Hospitals— Thomas  Vicary— Harvey,  the  Famous  Physician— The  Great  Quadrangle  of  the 
Hospital  rebuilt— The  Museums,  Theatres,  and  Library  of  St.  Bartholomew's— The  Great  Abemethy— Dr.  Percival  Pott— A  Lucky 
Fracture— Great  Surgeons  at  St.  Bartholomew's— Hogarth's  Pictures— Samaritan  Fund— View  Day— Cloth  Fair— Duck  Lane  .        .        .359 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL. 
The  Grey  Friars  in  Newgate  Street-The  Origin  of  ChrUt's  Hospital-A  Fashionable  Burying-place-The  Mean  Conduct  of  Sir  Martin 
Bowes-Early  Private  Benefactors  of  Christ's  Hospital -Foundation  of  the  Mathematical  School-Rebuildmg  of  the  South  Front  of 
Christ's  Hospital— The  Plan  of  Christ's  Hospital-Famous  Pictures  in  the  Hall-Celebrated  Blues -Leigh  Hunt's  Account  of  Christ's 
Hospital-The  "  Fazzer  "-Charles  Lamb-Boyer,  the  Celebrated  Master  of  Christ's  Hcspital-Coleridge's  Expenences-Erasmus- 
Singular  Legacies-Numbers  in  the  School-The  Education  at  Christ's  Hospital-Eminent  Blues-The  Public  Suppers-Spital  Sermons 
*  --Ceremony  on  St.  Matthew's  Day-University  Exhibitions-The  Diet-"  Gag-eaters  "-The  Rebuddmg  m  1803      .        .  .        .  304 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

THE         CHARTERHOUSE.  page 

The  Plague  of  1348— Origin  of  the  CharterhouBe— Sir  Thomas  More  there— Cromwell's  Commissioners— Prior  Houghton— The  Departure 
of  the  Carthusians  from  London— A  Visit  from  the  Grave — Effect  of  the  Dissolution  on  the  Charterouse  Priory — The  Charterhouse  and 
the  Howards— Thomas  Sutton— Bishop  Hall's  Letter  and  its  Effect- Sutton's  Death— Baxter's  Claim  defeated— A  Letter  from  Bacon- 
Settlement  of  the  Charterhouse  :  its  Constitution— Sutton's  Will— His  Detractors — Funeral  Sermon  3°" 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

THE         CHARTERHOUSE   (continued). 

Archdeacon  Hale  on  the  Antiquities  of  the  Charterhouse— Course  of  the  Water  Supply— The  "Aye"— John  Houghton's  Initials— The 
Entrances— The  Master's  Lodge— Portraits— Sheldon— Burnet— Mann  and  his  Epitaph— The  Chapel— The  Founder's  Tomb— The 
Remains  of  Norfolk  House— The  Great  Hall  and  Kitchens— Ancient  Monogram— The  Cloisters— The  School — Removal  to  Godalming — 
Experiences  of  Life  at  Charterhouse— Thackeray's  Bed— The  Poor  Brothers— A  Scene  from  "  The  Newcomes  "—Famous  Poor  Brothers 
—The  Charterhouse  Plays — Famous  Carthusians .  •  3°" 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 
THE  FLEET  PRISON. 
An  Ancient  Debtors'  Prison — Grievous  Abuses — Star  Chamber  Offenders  in  the  Fleet — Prynne  and  Lilburne — James  Howell,  the  Letter- 
writer- Howard,  the  Philanthropist,  at  the  Fleet— The  Evils  of  Farming  the  Fleet— 'The  Cases  of  Jacob  Mendez  Solas  and  Captain 
Mackpheadris — ^A  Parliamentary  Inquiry  into  the  State  of  Fleet  Prison — Hogarth's  Picture  on  the  Subject — The  Poet  Thomson's  Eulogy 
of  Mr.  Oglethorpe— The  Ffeet  Prison  before  and  after  it  was  Burnt  in  1780— Code  of  Laws  enforced  in  the  Fleet— The  Liberty  of  the 
"  Rules  "—The  Gordon  Rioters  at  the  Fleet— Weddings  at  the  Fleet — Scandalous  Scenes— Mr.  Pickwick's  Sojourn  in  the  Fleet — 
Famous  Inmates  of  the  Prison 4^4 

CHAPTER   L. 

THE  FLEET  RIVER  AND  FLEET  DITCH. 
Origin  of  the  Name — Rise  of  the  Fleet — Its  Course — Early  Impurity — The  Holebourne — Antiquities  found  in  the  Fleet — How  far  Navigable 
for  Ships — Early  mention  of  it — Clearing  of  the  Fleet  Valley — A  Deposit  of  Pins — The  Old  Bridges — Fleet  Bridge — Holbom  Bridge — 
Historical  Associations — Discovery  of  the  Arches  of  the  Old  Bridge — Thieves'  Houses — Pope  on  the  "  Fleet " — The  River  arched  over 
— Floods  on  the  Fleet — Disaster  in  1846 — The  Fleet  under  the  Main  Drainage  System — Dangers  of  Exploring  the  Sewer — A  Strange 
Denizen  of  the  Ditch— Tummill  Street  and  the  Thieves' Quarter — West  Street — Chick  Lane — The  Old  "Red  Lion,"  known  as  "Jonathan 
Wild's  House"  .  416 

CHAPTER  LI. 
NEWGATE  STREET. 
Christ  Church,  Newgate  Street :  as  it  wa^,  and  as  it  is— Exorbitant  Burial  Fees— Richard  Baxtet — Dr.  TrApp  atid  Sir  Jobn  Bosworth — ^The 
Steeple  of  Christ  Church — The  Spital  Sermons — A  Small  Giant  and  a  very  Great  Dwarf— The  Adventures  of  Sir  Jeffrey  Hudson — 
Coleridge  at  the  "  Salutation  and  Cat  '"«-The  "  Magpie  and  Stump  "—Tom  D'Urfey  at  the  "  Queen's  Arms  Tavern  " — The  College  of 
Physicians  in  Warwick  Lane — Some  Famous  Old  Physicians — Dr.  Radcliffe— The  College  of  Physicians  cruelly  duped — Dr.  Mead — 
Other  Famous  Physicians :  Askew,  Pitcairne,  Sir  Hans  Sloane — A  Poetical  Doctor— Monsey  and  his  Practical  Dentistry — The 
Cauliflower  Club  :  the  President's  Chair— The  Bagnio  in  Bath  Street— Cock  Lane  and  the  Famous  Ghost :  Walpole :  Dr.  Johnson :  the 
Imposture  detected;  Scratching  Fanny:  Coffin- Old  Inns  in  the  Neighbourhood:  the  "Old  Bell:"  the  "Oxford  Arms"— Snow  Hill 
and  John  Bunyan — Dobson ....  427 

CHAPTER  LII.  ■ 

NEWGATE. 

The  Fifth  City  Gate— Howard's  Description  of  Newgate— The  Gordon  Riots-The  Attack  on  Newgate— The  Mad  Quaker— Crabbe,  the  Poet 

—His  Account  of  the  Burning  of  Newgate— Dr.  Johnson's  Visit  to  the  Rums aaj 

CHAPTER  LIII. 
NEWGATE  {continued). 
Methodist  Preachers  in  Newgate— Silas  Told— The  Surgeons'  Crew— Dr.  Dodd,  the  Popular  Preacher— His  Forgery- Governor  Wall  at 
Goree  flogs  a  Soldier  to  Death— His  Last  Moments  -Murder  of  Mr.  Steel— Execution  of  the  Cato  Street  Conspirators— Fauntleroy,  the 
Banker— The  Murder  of  the  Italian  Boy— Greenacre— MuUer— Courvoisier— His  Execution— Mrs.  Brownrigg— Mr.  Akerman  and  the 
Fire  in  Newgate— Mrs.  Fry's  Good  Work  in  Newgate— Escapes  from  Newgate— Jack  Sheppard— A  Good  Sermon  on  a  Bad  Text- 
Sanitary  Condition  of  Newgate— Effect  upon  the  Prisoners     .  Aan 

CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE  OLD  BAILEY. 
Origin  of  the  Name— The  Old  Sessions  House— Constitution  of  the  Court  in  Stiype's  Time- The  Modern  Central  Criminal  Court— Number  of 
Persons  tried  here  annually-Old  Bailey  Holidays-Speedy  Justice-A  Thief's  Dcfence-The  Interior  of  the  Old  Court-Celebrated 
Criminals  tried  here— Trial  of  the  Regicides— Trial  of  Lord  William  Russell— The  Press-yard— The  Black  Sessions  of  1750— Sprigs  of 
Rue  in  Court-Old  Bailey  Dinners-The  Gallows  in  the  Old  Bailey— The  Cart  and  the  New  Drop-Execution  Statistics— Execution 
Customs— Memorable  Executions-A  Dreadful  Catastrophe— The  Pillory  in  the  Old  Bailey— The  Surgeons'  Hall— A  Fatal  Experiment 
—The  Dissection  of  Lord  Ferrers-Goldsmith  as  a  Rejected  Candidate  -  Famous  Inhabitants- The  Little  Old  Bailey— Sydney  House- 
Green  Arbour  Court  and  Breakneck  Steps— Goldsmith  s  Garret— A  Region  of  Washerwomen -Percy's  Visit  to  Goldsmith         .        .       "  461 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   LV. 
ST.    sepulchre's   and    its    neighbourhood. 

The  Early  History  of  St.  Sepulchre's-I,,,  Destruction  in  .666-Tl,e  Exterior  and  Interior-The  Early  Popularity  of  the  Church-Interments ''"''' 
here-Roger  Ascham  the  Author  of  the  "  Schoolmaster  "-Captain  John  Smith  and  his  Roma'^tic  AdvJtures-Saverby  an  X 
tt  nf  H  ^7  'V  Ch-^y-d-A-^commodation  for  a  Murder=ss-The  Martyr  Rogers-An  Odd  Circumstance-Good  Company  for 
ree  ?ke~Deer„f  T  A  Z  ■I"''"'^^  '''"  ""^  "  '''^'  Admonition-Nosegays  for  the  Condemned-The  Route  to  the  Luows- 
Ssrlomrbk  Condition'  ?;='"'^'"=-Th=  *  Sa-cen-s  Head  "-Description  by  Dickens-Giltspur  Street-Giltspur  Street  Compter-A 
Djsreputable  Cond.t.on-P.e  Comer-Hosier  Lane-A  Spurious  Relic-The  Conduit  on  Snow  HiU-A  Ladies'  Charity  School- 
M^S'Life*"^         "  Betty  !-A  Schoolmistress  Censured- Skinner  Street-Unpropitious   Fortune-William  Godwin-An  Original 

*""       '" 477 

CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE   METROPOLITAN   MEAT    MARKET. 
History  of  the  Metropolitan  Meat  Market-Newgate  Market  and  its  Inconvenience-The  Meat  Market  described-The  Ceremony  of  Opening 
-A  Roaring  Trade-The  Metropolitan  Poultrj'  Market-London  Trade  in  Poultry  and  Game-French  Geese  and  Irish  Geese-Packed 
m  Ice— Plover's  Eggs  for  the  Queen  .  ,qj 

» 

CHAPTER  LVII. 
FARRINGDON  STREET,  HOLBORN  VIADUCT,  AND  ST.  ANDREW'S  CHURCH. 
Farringdon  Without— A  Notorious  Alderman— Farringdon  Within— Farringdon  Street- Fleet  Market— Farringdon  Market— Watercress 
Sellers-On  a  November  Morning— The  Congregational  Memorial  Hall— Holborn  Viaduct  described-The  City  Temple— Opening  of 
the  Viaduct  by  the  Queen— St.  Andrew's,  Holborn— Its  Interior— Its  Exterior— Emery,  the  Comedian— The  Persecuting  Lord 
Chancellor  Wriothesley— Sacheverel :  a  Pugnacious  Divine— The  Registers  of  St.  Andrew's— Marriages  cried  by  the  Bellman— Edward 
Coke's  Marriage— Coke  catches  a  Tartar— Colonel  and  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  Marriage— A  Courtship  worth  reading— Christening  of 
Richard  Savage— The  Unfortunate  Chatterton— Henry  Neele,  the  Poet— Webster,  the  Dramatist,  and  his  White  Devil— A  Funeral 
Dirge— Tomkins,  the  Conspirator— Strutt,  and  "Sports  and  Pastimes"— "Wicked  Will"  Whiston— A  Queen's  Faults— Hacket,  after- 
wards Bishop  of  Lichfield  and  Coventry— A  Surprise  for  Dissenters— Stillingfleet :  A  Controversial  Divine— Looking  People  'in  the 
Face— The  Rev.  Charies  Barton— An  Agreeable  Surprise— Sl  George  the  Martyr,  Queen  Square,  and  St.  Andrew's— St.  Andrew's 
Grammar  School  ' .qg 

CHAPTER   LVIII. 

ELY  PLACE. 
Ely  Place:  its  Builders  and  Bishops— Its  Demolition— Seventy  Years  ago— " Time-honoured "  Lancaster's  Death— A  King  admonished— The 
Eiu-1  of  Sussex  in  Ely  Place— The  Hatching  of  a  Conspi:;acy— Ely  Place  Garden— The  Duke  of  Gloucester's  Dessert  of  Strawberries- 
Queen  Elizabeth's  Handsome  Lord  Chancellor— A  Flowery  Lease— A  Bishop  Extinguished —A  Broken  Heart— Love-making  in  Ely 
Place — "  Strange  Lady  "  Hatton  shows  her  Teinper— An  Hospital  and  a  Prison— Festivities  in  Ely  Place— The  Lord  Mayor  offended— 
Henry  VII.  and  his  Queen — A  Five  Days'  Entertainment— The  Last  Mystery  in  England — A  Gorgeous  Anti-masque -Two  Bailiffs 
baffled,  and  a  Bishop  taken  in— St.  Etheldreda's  Chapel— Its  Interior— The  Marriage  of  Evelyn's  Daughter— A  Loyal  Clerk    .        .        .  5 14 

CHAPTER   LIX. 

HOLBORN  TO  CHANCERY  LANE. 
The  Divisions  of  Holborn — A  Miry  Thoroughfare— Oldbourne  Bridge— In  the  Beginning  of  the  Century— Holborn  Bars— The  Middle  Row- 
On  the  Way  to  Tyburn— A  Sweet  Youth  in  the  Cart— Clever  Tom  CUnch— Riding  up  Heavy  Hill— The  Hanging  School— Cruel 
Whippings — Statue  to  the  late  Prince  Consort— The  "  Rose  "  Tavern— Union  Court— Bartlett's  Buildings— Dyer's  Buildings— A  Famous 
Pastry-cook- Castle  Street— A  Strange  Ceremony— Cursitor  Street — Lord  Chancellor  Eldon- A  Runaway  Match— Southampton  House 
—An  Old  Temple— Southampton  Buildings— Flying  for  Dear  Life— Jacob's  Coffee  House— Ridiculous   Enactments— Dr.  Birkbeck 

and  Mechanics'  Institutions— An  Extraordinary  Well — Fulwood's  Rents— Ned  Ward  and  the  "London  Spy"— Selling  a  Horse 

Dr.  Johnson — A  Lottery  Office — Lotteries:   their  History  and  Romance — Praying  for  Luck— A  ;i^2o,ooo  Prize — Lucky  Numbers- 
George  A.  Stevens— Gerarde  the  Old  Herbalist,  and  his  Garden— The  Flying  Pieman  of  Holborn  Hill— An  Old  Bellman  of  Holborn.  S26 

CHAPTER   LX. 

THE  NORTHERN  TRIBUTARIES  OF  HOLBORN. 
Field  Lane— A  Description  by  Dickens— Saffron  Hill— Old  Chick  Lane— Thieves'  Hiding  Places— Hatton  Garden— A  Dramatist's  Wooing^ 
The  Celebrated  Dr.  Bate— Charles  Street— Bleeding  Heart  Yard— Love  or  Murder- Leather  Lane — George  Morland,  the  Painters- 
Robbing  One's  Own  House— Brooke  Street— The  Poet  Chatterton— His  Life  in  London,  and  his  Death— The  Great  Lord  Hardwicke— 
A  Hardworking  Apprenticeship— Coach-hire  for  a  Barrel  of  Oysters— A  Start  in  Life— Greville  Street— Lord  Brooke's  Murder— A 
Patron  of  Learning— Gray's  Inn  Lane— Tom  Jones'  Arrival  in  Town—"  Your  Money  or  Your  Life  !  "—Poets  of  Gray's  Inn  Lane— James 
Shirley,  the  Dramatist— John  Ogilby— John  Langhome— The  "Blue  Lion  "—Fox  Court—The  Unfortunate  Richard  Savage   .        .        .  542 

CHAPTER   LXI. 

THE  HOLBORN  INNS  OF  COURT  AND  CHANCERY. 
Gray's  Inn— Its  History— The  Hall— A  Present  from  Queen  Elizabeth— The  Chapel— The  Library— Divisions  of  the  Inn— Gray's  Inn  Walks- 
Bacon  on  Gardens— Observing  the  Fashions— Flirts  and  Flirtations— Old  Recollections— Gray's  Inn  Gateway— Two  Old  Booksellers- 
Alms  for  the  Poor— Original  Orders — Eggs  and  Green  Sauce— Sad  Livery— Hats  off !— Vows  of  Celibacy— Mootings  in  Inns  of  Court- 
Joyous  Revels— Master  Roo  in  Trouble— Rebellious  Students— A  Brick  Fight— An  Address  to  the  King— Sir  William  Gascoigne— A 
Prince  imprisoned — Thomas  Cromwell- Lord  Burleigh — A  Call  to  Repentance— Simon  Fish— Sir  Nicholas  Bacon — Lord  Bacon — ^A 
Gorgeous  Procession— An  Honest  Welsh  Judge— Bradshaw— Sir  Thomas  Holt— A  Riot  suppressed— Sir  Samuel  Romilly .        .        .        .  553 

CHAPTER  LXH. 
THE  HOLBORN  INNS  OF  COURT  AND  CHANCERY  (continued). 
Ecclesiastics  of  Gray's  Inn — Stephen  Gardiner — Whitgift — Bishop  Hall,  the  ^'Christian  Seneca'' — Archbishop  Laud — William  Juxon — On  the 
Scaffold — The  *'  Bruised  Reed" — Kaxter^s  Conversion — Antiquaries  and  Bookworms — The  Irritable  Joseph  Ritson — John  Britton — Hall 
and  his  "  Chronicles  " — Rymer  and  his  "  Foedera  " — The  Original  of  '*  Tom  Folio  " — George  Chapman — A  Celebrated  Translation — 
Oliver  Goldsmith— A  Library  of  One  Book— William  Cobbett — Rental  of  the  Inns  of  Court  and  Chancery — What  are  Inns  of 
Chancery  ? — Fumival's  Inn— A  Street  Row — Sir  Thomas  More — Snakes  and  Eels — A  Plague  of  a  Wife — A  Scene  in  the  Tower — 
Scourges  and  Hair  Shirt.s — No  Bribery — Charles  Dickens  and  "  Pickwick  " — Thavie's  Inn — Barnard's  Inn — The  Old  Hall — The  Last 
of  the  Alchemists — A  given  Quantity  of  Wine — The  **  No  Popery"  Riots — Staple  Inn  — Steevens  correcting  his  Proof  Sheets — Dr. 
Samuel  Johnson— A  "Little  Story  Book"— Fire  !  Fire  ! 5^6 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


•  PAGE 

The  Neighbourhood  of  London  Bridge,  from  Hollar's 

View 3 

The  Second  Fishmongers'  Hall           ....  6 
London  Bridge  (1756),  from  an  Old  View,  taken  shortly 

before  the  Demolition  of  the  Houses     ...  7 
Remains  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  Thomas,  Old  London 

Bridge,  from  a  View  taken  during  its  Demolition  .  12 
London  Bridge,  from  a  Print  dated  1796     .         .        -13 

Heads  on  Old  London  Bridge 16 

Nonsuch  House l8 

The  "Three  Cranes,"  Thames  Street.         ...  19 

Cold  Harbour  ' 24 

Tower  Street  Ward,  from  a  Map  made  for   Stow's 

Survey 25 

The  Merchant  Taylors'  School,  Suffolk  Lane      .        .  30 
The  Steel  Yard  and  Neighbourhood  in  1540,  from  Van 

Wyngard's  Plan,  taken  for  Philip  n.  of  Spain      .  31 
Chapel  of  Merchant  Taylors'  School  .         .        .         -36 

Dyers'  Hall 37 

The  Church  of  AUhallows-the-Great  in«l  784       .         .  42 

Hall  of  the  Skinners'  Company 43 

Billingsgate,  from  a  View  taken  in  1820      ...  48 

The  Old  Coal  Exchange 49 

The  Custom  House,  time  of  Elizabeth        ...  52 

The  Present  Coal  Exchange 54 

The  Old   Custom  House,  from  a  View  by  Maurer, 

published  in  I7S3         •          •         •         ■         •         •  SS 

Roman  Remains  found  in  Billingsgate         ...  60 
Captivity  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  in  the  Tower,  from 

an  Illumination  in  the  Royal  MS.         .         .         .61 
The  Tower  of  London,  from  a  View  published  about 

1700 67 

The  Church  of  St.  Peter,  on  Tower  Green ...  72 
Guy  Fawkes  and  the  Conspirators,  from  a  Contem- 
porary Print 73 

The  Jewel  Room  at  the  Tower 78 

The  Tower  of  London : — White  Tower,  Middle  Tower, 
By  ward  Tower,  Staircase  of  White  Tower,  St.  John's 
Chapel,  Passage  in  Bloody  Tower,  Bloody  Tower, 
Bell  Tower,  Bowyer  Tower,  Traitors'  Gate,  Interior 

of  Byward  Tower,  Axe  and  Block       •        •         .  79 

The  Tower  Horse  Armoury 84 

The  Tower  Menagerie  about  1820       ....  85 

The  Tower  Moat,  from  a  View  taken  about  1 800        .  90 


The  Tower,   from  a   Survey  made  in   1597,   by  W. 

Haiward  and  J.  Gascoyne 91 

Lord  Lovat,  from  Hogarth's  Portrait  ....  96 
An  Old  House  on  Little  Tower  Hill,  from  a  Drawing 

by  Smith,  made  in  1792 97 

Press   and  Dies  formerly  used  in  the  Mint  (George 

II.) 102 

Interior  of  the  Mint,  from  a  Drawing  of  about  1800    .  103 

The  Church  of  AUhallows  Barking,  in  1750        .         .  108 

St.  Dunstan's-in-the-East 109 

Roman  Wall  on  Tower  Hill 114 

The  Trinity  House 115 

St.  Katherine's  Docks         .         ,         .         .         .         .120 
St.   Katherine's   Hospital — The  Brothers'  Houses  in 

1781 121 

The  Tower  Subway   .         .         .         .         .         .         .126 

The  Thames  Tunnel,  as  it  appeared  when  originally 

opened  for  Traffic 127 

A  Wild-beast  Shop 132 

St.  Dunstan,'s,  Stepney,  from  a  View  taken  in  1803     .  133 
Old  Gateway  at  Stepney,  from  a  View  published  by 

N.  Smith  (1791) 138 

Petticoat  Lane 139 

Kirby   Castle,    Bethnal   Green   (the    Blind    Beggar's 

House) 145 

St  Helen's  Priory,  and  Leathersellers'  Hall,  from  a 

View  by  Malcolm  (1799) 150 

The  "  Sir  Paul  Pindar,"  from  an  Original  Sketch        .  151 
Sir  Paul  Pindar's  Lodge,  from  a  View  published, by 

N.  Smith  (1791) 151 

Room  in  Sir  Paul  Pindar's  House,  from  a  Drawing  by 

J.  T.  Smith  (1810) 151 

Bishopsgate 154 

The  "White  Hart,"  Bishopsgate  Street,  in  1810          .  156 

Crosby  Hall  in  1 790 157 

Street  Front  of  Crosby  Hall 159 

St.  Ethelburga's  Church 162 

Sir  Thomas  Gresham's  House  in  Bishopsgate  Street    .  163 
The    "Four   Swans    Inn,"    taken  shortly  before  its 

Demolition 168 

Comhill  in  1630,  from  a  View  published  by  Boydell    .  169 
Garraway's  Coffee-house,  from  a  Sketch  taken  shortly 

before  its  Demolition 174 

Interior  of  Clothworkers'  Hall 175 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


XI 


Plan  showing  the  extent  of  the  Great  Fire  in  Cornhill, 

in  1748 180 

The  Old  India  OfEce,  Leadenhall  Street,  in  1803        .  181 

Old  House,  formerly  in  Leadenhall  Street  .         .         .  i86 

The  Flower  Sermon  in  St.  Catherine  Cree  Church      .  187 

Lime  Street  Ward,  from  a  Survey  made  in  1750           .  190 

Stew's  Monument  in  St.  Andrew  Undershaft       .         .  192 
Moorfields   and   its  Neighbourhood,    from   a   Map   of 

about  1720 193 

Hall  of  the  Carpenters'  Company  ....  198 
Old  Bethlem  Hospital,  Moorfields,  about  1750  .  .  199 
Bunhill  Fields  Burial-ground  .....  204 
The  Old  Post  Office  in  Lombard  Street,  about  1800  .  205 
Aldersgate,  from  a  Print  of  1670  ....  210 
St.  Martin's-le-Grand  in  1760  .  .  .  .  .211 
New  General  Post  OfEce,  St.  Martin's-le-Grand  .  .  216 
The  Yard  of  the  "  Bull  and  Mouth,"  about  1820  .  217 
Shaftesbury  House,  from  a  Print  of  i8io  .  .  .  222 
The  Fortune  Theatre,  from  a  print  published  by  Wil- 
kinson (181 1)       223 

Prince  Rupert's  House,  in  the  Barbican      .         .         .  228 

Cripplegate  and  Neighbourhood,  from  Aggas's  Map    .  229 

St.  Giles's,  Cripplegate,  showing  the  Old  Wall   .         .  234 

The  Barber-surgeons'  Picture 235 

Barber-surgeons'  Hall  (1800) 240 

The  Grub  Street  Hermit,  from  a  Picture  published  by 

Richardson  (1794) 241 

Ruins  of  the  Convent  of  St.  Clare,  from  a  View  pub- 
lished by  T.  J.  Smith  (1797)         .         .         .         .246 

Whittington's  House  in  Grub  Street  (Smith,  i8n)      .  247 

General  Monk's  House 247 

Bloomfield's  House  (1823) 247 

Remains  of  Aldgate,  Bethnal  Green  (Malcolm,  1800)  .  247 

Aldgate 249 

The  Old  "Fountain"  in  the  Minories,  from  a.  View 

by  N.  Smith  (1798) 252 

The  Old  "  Queen's  Head "  Tavern     .                 .         .  253 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  House 258 

Islington  in  1780 259 

London,  from  Islington  (City  and  East  End),  from  a 

View  by  Canaletti,  published  in  1753  .         .         .  264 
London,   from    Islington  (West  End),   from  a  View 

by  Canaletti,  published  in  1 753    .         .         .         .265 

The  New  River  Head,  from  a  View  published  in  1753  270 

Canonbury  Tower  about  1800 271 

Copenhagen  House,  from  a  View  taken  about  1800      .  276 
King's  Cross,  from  a  View  taken  during  its  Demolition 

in  184s 277 

Battle  Bridge  in  1810.    ■ 282 

White  Conduit  House,  about  1820      .         .         .         .283 

•  Sadler's  Wells  in  1756 288 

Sadler's  Wells,  from  a  View  taken  in  1756          .         .  289 

The  Exterior  of  Bagnigge  Wells  in  1780     .        .        .  294 

Coldbath  House,  from  a  View  published  in  181 1          .  295 

Spa  Fields  Chapel  in  1781 300 

Ray  Street,  Clerkenwell,  about  1820  .         .         .         .  301 


PAGB 

The  Old  House  of  Detention,  Clerkenwell .        .        .  306 

The  Monastery  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  Clerkenwell.  307 

The  Original  Priory  Church  of  St.  John,  Clerkenwell.  312 

Coffee-room  at  St.  John's  Gate 313 

St.  John's  Gate,  Clerkenwell 318 

Hicks's  Hall,  about  1750 319 

Edward  Cave,  from  the  Portrait  by  Hogarth        .        .  324 

The  Crypt  of  St.  John's,  Clerkenwell         .        .         .  325 

Burnet  House    ........  330 

Newcastle  House 331 

Clerkenwell  Green  in  1 789 336 

The  Old  Church  of  St.  James,  Clerkenwell         .         .  337 

Place  of  Execution  in  Old  Smithfield.         .         .        .  342 

The  "  Hand  and  Shears  " 343, 

A    Case    before    the    Court    of  Pie-poudre,    from    a 

Drawing  dated  181 1 343 

The  Church  of  St.  Bartholomew- the- Great  (1737)       .  348 

Old  Smithfield  Market 349 

Rayer's  Tomb     ........  354 

St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital  in  1750  .         .        .         .355 

Interior  of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Great        .         .         .  360 
Pie  Comer  in  1789,  from  a  Drawing  in  Mr.  Gardner's 

Collection   .......;  361 

The  Western   Quadrangle  of   Old   Christ's   Hospital 

about  1 780 366 

The  Mathematical  School,   Christ's   Hospital,   from   a 

View  published  by  N.  Smith  (1793)     .         .         .  367 
The  Cloisters,  Christ's  Hospital,  from  a  View  published 

in  1804       ........  372 

Supper  at  Christ's  Hospital        .....  373 

The  Hall  of  Christ's  Hospital 378 

Bird's-eye  View  of  the  Old  Charterhouse    .        .         .  379 
The  Charterhouse,  from  the  Square :  from  a  View  by 

Grey,  publisjied  in  1804 384 

The  Exterior  of  the  Hall,  CJiarterhouse       .         .         .  385 
Charterhouse — The  Quadrangle,  from  a  View  taken  in 

1805 390- 

Charterhouse  Square,  from  a  View  taken  for  Stow's 

"Survey" 391 

Thomas  Sutton,  from  an  Engraving,  by  Virtue,  of  the 

Charterhouse  Portrait  ......  396- 

Street  Front  of  the  Fleet  Prison 397 

Courtyard  in  the  Fleet  Prison 402 

Interior  of  the  Fleet  Prison — The  Racket  Court  .         .  403 

The  Last  Remains  of  the  Fleet  Prison.         .         .        .  40S 
A  Wedding  in  the  Fleet,  from  a  Print  of  the  Early 

Part  o^  the  Eighteenth  Century    ....  40^ 
Remains  of  Old  Holbom  Bridge,  from  a  Sketch  taken 

during  the  Alterations,  1844         ....  414 
Holbom  Valley  and  Snow  Hill  previous  to  the  Con- 
struction of  the  Viaduct 415 

The   Fleet   Ditch  near  West  Street,  from  a  Sketch 

taken  during  the  Alterations  (1844)      .         .         .  420 
The  Old  "Red  Lion,"  from  the  Front— Back  of  the 

"Red  Lion,"  from  the  Fleet— The  Fleet  Ditch, 

from  the  "Red  Lion"         ...         -        .  421 


Xll 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Old  Newgate 426 

King  Charles's  Porter  and  Dwarf,  from  the  Old  Bas- 
relief 427 

College  of  Physicians,  Warwick  Lane — Interior  of  the 

Quadrangle.         . 432 

Cock  Lane         ........  433 

The  "  Ghost's  "  House  in  Cock  Lane.         .         .        .  438 

The  "Saracen's  Head,"  Snow  Hill,  from  a  Sketch 

taken  during  its  Demolition          ....  439 

Door  of  Newgate       .......  444 

Burning  of  Newgate,  from  a  Contemporary  Print         .  445 

The  Condemned  Cell  in  Newgate       ....  450 

The  Old  Sessions  House  in  the  Old  Bailey  in  1750      .  451 

Cato  Street,  from  a  View  published  in  1820        .         .  456 
Mrs.  Brownrigg,  from  the  Original  Print     .         .        -457 

The  Chapel  in  Newgate 462 

Jack  Sheppard's  Escapes 463 

Front  of  Newgate  from  the  Old  Bailey        .        .        .  468 

Surgeons'  Hall,  Old  Bailey  (1800)       ....  469 

Jonathan  Wild's  House 474 

Jonathan  Wild  in  the  Cart,  from  a  Contemporary  Print  475 

Goldsmith's  House,  Green  Arbour  Court,  about  1800  480 

St.  Sepulchre's  Church  in  1737,  from  a  View  by  Toms  481 

Porch  of  St.  Sepulchre's  Church         ....  486 

Giltspur  Street  Compter  (1840) 487 

Map  of  Farringdon  Ward  Without  (1750) .         .        .  492 

The  Metropolitan  Meat  Market 493 

Fleet  Market,    from  a  Drawing    in    Mr.    Gardner's 

Collection 498 


PAGE 

Field  Lane  about  1840 499 

The  West  End  of  St  Andrew's,  showing  the  Gothic 

Arch 504 

Interior  of  St.  Andrew's  Church  .  .  .  -SOS 
St.  Andrew's  Church,  from  Snow  Hill,  in  1850  .  .  Sio 
"  Sacheverell "  Cards,  selected  from  a  Pack  illus- 
trating the  Reign  of  Queen  Anne.  .  .  .511 
William  Whiston  .  .  .  .  .'  .  .516 
Ely  House— The  Hall,  from  "Grose's  Antiquities"  .  517 
Ely  Chapel,  from  a  View  by  Malcolm.  .  .  .  522 
Ely  House,  from  a  Drawing  made  in  1772  .  .  .  523 
Middle  Row,  Holbom,  from  a  Drawing  taken  shortly 

before  its  Demolition 528 

Staircase  in  Southampton  House         .         .         .     ,  .     529 
Room    of    a    House    in    Fulwood's     Rents,     after 

Archer        . 534 

Drawing  the  State  Lottery  at  Guildhall,  from  a  Print 

of  about  1750 S3S 

Old  Houses  in  Holbom,  near  Middle  Row.         .         .     540 
Bleeding  Heart  Yard .......     541 

Leather  Lane .     546 

Chatterton's  House  in  Brooke  Street ....     547 

The  Hall  of  Gray's  Inn 553 

Gray's  Inn  Gardens   .        ,         .         .         .         .         •     S58 
Barnard's  Inn    ........     559 

Staple's  Inn 564 

Doorway  in  Staple's  Inn 565 

Exterior  of  Furnival's  Inn  (1754)         .         .         .         .570 
Interior  of  Fumival's  Inn  (after  NichoUs,  1 750)  .         .     571 


;  First  Fishmongers'  Hall— William  Waluorth— The  Wealth  and  Power  of  the  Old 
Fishmongers — Their  Qnarrels — Their  Recortis — The  present  Hall — Walworth's 
Dagger — Walworth's  Pall — Fish  Street  Hill — The  Chnrch>'ard  of  St  Leonard's  — 
Goldsmith  and  JMonument  \'ard. 

HERE  Fishmongers'  Hall,  that  handsome  Anglo-Greek  build- 
ing at  the  west  side  of  the  foot  of  London  Bridge,  still  stands 
this  rich  semi-marine  Company  have  had  a  stronghold  e\er 
since  the  reign  of  Edward  III.  It  was  in  this  convenient 
spot,  also,  that  that  most  warlike  and  eminent  of  Fishmongers, 
Sir  William  Walworth,  himself  resided  during  the  reign  of 
Richard  II.,  the  monarch  whose  crown  he  saved  by  a  single 
blow  of  his  prompt  sword. 

Mr.  Herbert,  who  took  great  pains  about  this  question, 
says  that  there  were  originally  five  tenements  on  the  site  of 
Fishmongers'  Hall.  The  frontage  towards  Thames  Street  was 
1 20  feet,  and  the  depth  to  the  river  about  200  feet.  The 
plot  of  ground  stood  in  Upper  Thames  Street,  between  the 
Water  Gate  and  Old  Swan  Lane,  and  lay  in  three  parishes. 
It  was  parted  into  six  great  slips  by  five  stairs  to  the  Thames, 
as  seen  in  "  The  Exact  Survey  of  the  Ruins  of  London  after 
the  Fire  of  1666."  The  stairs  were — Water  Gate  (originally 
called  Oyster  Hill,  and  afterwards  the  Gully  Hole),  the  site  of 
the  old  water  works,  Churchyard  Alley,  Fleur  de  Luce  Alley, 


49__.VoL.  11. 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Fishmong;ers'  Hall. 


Black  Raven  Alley,  and  Ebgate  (Old  Swan  Lane), 
and  after  the  Fire,  Wheatsheaf  Alley. 

Henry  III.,  in  order  to  increase  his  queen's 
customs  at  Queenhithe  (Thames  Street),  prohibited 
any  fish  being  landed  from  fishing-vessels  except 
at  that  port.  This  led  to  a  great  London  fish- 
market  being  established  in  Old  Fish  Street  (near 
Doctors'  Commons),  and  Knightrider  Street  soon 
became  famous,  as  Stow  tells  us,  for  fish  dinners. 
The  stalls  soon  grew  into  houses,  and  this  is  why 
St.  Nicholas  Coleabbey  contained  the  tombs  of  so 
many  celebrated  Fishmongers. 

Edward  I.,  finding  the  old  restrictions  work  badly, 
restored  the  Fishmongers  to  their  ancient  liberty, 
and  in  the  next  reign  they  removed  to  Bridge 
Street,  thenceforward  sailed  New  Fish  Street. 
Here  the  Fishmongers  could  correspond  with  Bil- 
lingsgate, and  their  other  colonies  at  Fish  Wharf, 
Oyster  Gate,  and  Eastcheap.  "  The  topping  men," 
says  Stow,  "lived  in  Bridge  Street."  The  Stock 
Market  was  also  an  early  fish-market ;  in  1545  there 
were  25  fishmongers  there,  and  only  18  butchers. 
After  the  change  of  market  all  the  great  Fish- 
monger mayors  and  aldermen  were  buried  at  St. 
Magnus'  and  St.  Botolph's,  while  the  Stock  Fish- 
mongers took  a  fancy  to  the  cool  vaults  of  St. 
Michael's,  Crooked  Lane. 

Herrings,  says  Herbert,  are  mentioned  soon  after 
the  Conquest,  and  in  the  3  ist  of  Edward  III.  they 
had  become  fish  of  such  importance,  that  a  special 
Act  of  Parliament  was  passe^  relating  to  them. 
Whales  accidentally  stranded  on  our  inhospitable 
coasts  in  that  reign  were  instantly  salted  down  and 
sent  to  the  king  for  his  consumption.  As  for 
porpoises,  they  were  favourites  with  English  cooks 
till  after  Elizabeth's  reign. 

Edward  I.  seems  to  have  been  a  fish-loving  king, 
for  he  fixed  a  tariff  of  prices.  The  edict  hmits  the 
best  soles  to  3d.  a  dozen ;  the  best  turbot  to  6d. ; 
the  best  mackerel,  in  Lent,  to  id.  each ;  the 
best  pickled  herrings  to  twenty  the  penny;  fresh 
oysters  to  2d.  per  gallon ;  a  quarter  of  a  hundred 
of  the  best  eels  to  2d. ;  and  other  fish  in  propor- 
tion. "  Congers,  lampreys,  and  sea-hogs  "  are  enu- 
merated. 

The  same  King  Edward,  the  bom  plague  of  fish- 
mongers and  Scotchmen,  forbade  all  partnerships 
with  foreign  fishmongers,  and  all  storing  fish  in 
cellars  to  retail  afterwards  at  exorbitant  rates. 
No  fishmonger  was  to  buy  before  the  king's  pur- 
veyors, and  no  fish  (unless  salted)  was  to  be  kept 
in  London  beyond  the  second  day.  The  City  had 
limited  the  profit  of  the  London  fishmonger  to  a 
penny  in  the  shilling ;  moreover,  no  one.  was  to 
sell  fish  except  in  the  open  market-place,  and  no 


one  was  permitted  to  water  fish  more  than  twice, 
under  pain  of  fines  and  the  market-place  stocks. 

In  the  reign  of  Edward  II.  all  the  London  fish- 
mongers had  their  stalls  in  Bridge  Street,  a  market 
of  a  later  date  than  Billingsgate  and  Old  Fish 
Street.  In  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  the  Stock  Fish- 
mongers formed  a  new  company,  and  had  a  hall  of 
their  own  to  the  east  of  the  Fishmongers'.  The 
two  companies  united  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI., 
and  held  their  meetings  at  Lord  Fairhope's  house 
in  Thames  Street.  The  resdess  Stock  Fishmongers 
again  seceded  in  the  reign -of  Henry  VII. ;  but  in 
the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  the  two  companies  were 
again  finally  fused  together,  and  on  this  occasion 
Lord  Fairhope's  hall  saw  cups  of  wine  drained  to 
the  happy  union. 

The  great  tenant  of  Fishmongers'  Hall  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  III.  was  John  Lovekyn,  who  was 
several  times  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  At  the 
death  of  Lovekyn's  wife  the  celebrated  William 
Walworth  lived  there,  and  carried  on  his  honest 
but  unheroic  business  of  stock  fishmonger,  a  great 
trade  in  Catholic  times,,  when  fish  was  in  demand 
for  frequent  fast-days.  To  Walworth  succeeded 
WilUam  Askha>m,  one  of  his  apprentices,  and  twice 
Mayor  of  London.  The  building  is  then  spoken 
of  as  having  a  wharf,  a  loft,  and  a  tower  which 
Walworth  had  built. 

The  Fishmongers  must  have  been  wealthy  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  III.,  when  they  contributed  ^40 
towards  the  expenses  of  the  French  wars — only 
one  pound  less  than  the  Mercers,  the  grandest 
Company;  and  two  years  later  they  again  con- 
tributed the  same  sum.  In  the  50th  Edward  III. 
the  Fishmongers  ranked  the  fourth  Company,  as  at 
present,  and  returned  six  members  to  the  common 
council,  the  greatest  number  any  guild  sent. 

In  spite  of  Walworth's  "  swashing  blow"  and 
loyal  service,  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  proved  a 
vexatious  one  to  the  Fishmongers.  John  de 
Northampton,  Mayor  in  1380,  obtained  an  Act  of 
Parliament  to  entirely  throw  open  the  trade,  and 
compelled  the  Fishmongers  to  admit  that  their  occu- 
pation was  no  craft,  and  unworthy  to  be  reckoned 
among  the  mysteries.  He  also  went  further,  for 
in  the  year  1382  Parliament,  indignant  at  the 
frauds  of  Billingsgate,  enacted  that  in  future  no 
Fishmonger  should  be  admitted  Mayor  of  London. 
This  prohibition  was  removed  next  year,  when  the 
Fishmongers  pleaded  their  own  cause  in  Parlia- 
ment. During  this  discussion  the  Fishmongers 
prayed  for  the  king's  protection  from  "corporal 
hurt,"  and  pleaded  malice  in  their  accusers.  Upon 
which  John  Moore,  a  Mercer,  angrily  charged 
Walter  Sybell,  a  spokesman  of  the  Fishmongers 


Fishmoneers'  Hall.] 


LAWS  ABOUT  FISH. 


with  having  let  the  rebels  of  Kent  and  Essex,  Wat 
Tyler's  followers,  into  the  City.  This  same  Walter, 
a  violent  and  rash  man,  was,  by-the-bye,  afterwards 
fined  500  marks  for  slandering  Robert  de  Vere, 
Earl  of  Oxford.  Even  in  1383  the  anti-Fishmonger 
agitation  still  continued,  for  we  find  John  Cavendish, 
a  Fishmonger,  challenging  the  Chancellor  for  taking 
a  bribe  of  ;^io  in  the  fore-named  case.  The 
Chancellor  freed  himself  by  oath  on  the  Sacra- 
ment, and  John  Cavendish,  being  found  guilty,  was 


appointed — namely,  the  chapel  on  London  Bridge, 
Baynard's  Castle,  and  Jordan's  Key."  This  was  to 
prevent  their  going  and  meeting  the  boats  before 
their  arrival  at  London.  "No  fish  were  to  be 
brought  in  any  boat  without  first  being  landed  at 
the  chapel  on  the  bridge ;  fresh'  fish  was  only  to 
be  sold  after  mass,  and  salt  fish  after  prime." 
Eight  j'ears  later — viz.,  in  1298 — the  Company  dis- 
played their  great  wealth  by  meeting  the  brave 
king,  Edward  I.,  on  his  return  from  Scotland,  with 


THE  NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  LONDON  BRIDGE.     From  Hollar's  View.     (Seepage/^) 


sentenced  to  pay  the  Chancellor  1,000  marks,  and 
was  also  sent  to  prison. 

Herbert  says  that  the  Fishmongers  were  amongst 
the  earUest  of  the  metropolitan  guilds.  They  were 
one  of  those  amerced  in  the  reign  of  Henry  H.  j 
and  we  have  seen  that  charters  were  granted  to 
them  not  only  by  Edward  II.,  Edward  III.,  and 
Richard  II.,  but  by  Edward  I.  They  were  fined 
500  marks  as  a  guild,  in  the  i8th  of  the  latter 
prince,  for  forestalling,  contrary  to  the  laws  and 
constitutions  of  the  City,  and  it  was  soon  after- 
wards found  necessary  to  make  fresh  regulations 
for  them,  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  "Liber 
Horn."  These,  amongst  other  things,  ordain  "that 
no  fislimonger  S'hall  buy  fish  beyond  the  bounds 


very  splendid  retinue  and  costly  trappings.  We 
have  already  (Vol.  I.,  p.  305)  noticed  a  great  affray 
which  took  place  between  the  Fishmongers  and 
the  Skinners,  in  the  midst  of  Cheapside,  in  1340, 
which  ended  in  the  apprehension  and  execution,  by 
the  mayor,  of  several  of  the  ringleaders.  These 
quarrels  were  common  amongst  the  great  com- 
panies in  early  times  ;  and  in  the  above,  and  most 
other  instances,  aroge  from  disputed  claims  about 
precedency,  which  were  uniformly  settled  by  the 
Court  of  Aldermen.  Stow's  allusion  to  the  ancient 
amity  between  the  Fishmongers  and  Goldsmiths, 
which  he  charges  the  former  with  ignorance  for  not 
knowing,  but  which  he  himself  has  not  explained, 
was  the  consequence  of  one  of  these  decisions, 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Fishmongers'  Hall. 


which  were  always  accompanied  by  arders  for  them 
to  alternately  take  precedence,  dine  together,  ex- 
change livery  hoods,  and  other  methods  calculated 
to  make  them  friends,  as  will  be  shown  to  have 
been  the  case  in  both  instances.  The  Fishmongers 
and  Goldsmiths  have  no  commemoration  of  this 
amity  at  present ;  but  the  Skinners  (who  were  simi- 
larly reconciled  after  the  above  affray,  of  which  a 
notice  will  also  be  seen  in  the  account  of  that  Com- 
pany), when  members  of  their  courts  dine  with  each 
other,  drink  as  toasts  the  "  Merchant  Taylors  and 
Skinners,"  and  "  Skinners  and  Merchant  Taylors." 

When  Alderman  Wood,  as  prime  warden  of  the 
Company,  was  examined  before  the  Commissioners 
of  Municipal  Inquiry,  he  stated  that  till  the  year 
1830  only  eight  liverymen  were  made  a  year,  but 
that  year  (for  election  purposes)  400  liverymen  had 
been  elected,  on  signing  a  declaration  foregoing 
all  rights  to  dine  in  hall.  The  fee  for  coming  on 
the  livery  was  then  ^^25,  the  purchase-money  of 
the  freedom  ;£io5  ;  and  for  translation  from 
another  Company  double  that  sum. 

The  Fishmongers'  books  do  not  extend  far 
enough  back  to  give  any  account  of  their  ancient 
livery.  For  many  years  the  Goldsmiths  and  Fish- 
mongers, as  proof  of  amity,  exchanged  each  others' 
liveries. 

Every  year,  on  the  festival  of  their  patron  saint, 
St.  Peter,  all  the  brethren  and  "sustern"  of  the 
fraternity  went  in  their  new  livery  to  St.  Peter's 
Church,  Cornhill,  and  there  heard  a  solemn  mass 
in  the  worship  of  God  and  St.  Peter,  and  offered  at 
offering-time  whatever  their  devotion  prompted 
them.  They  kept  three  priests  to  celebrate -obits, 
which  was  one  more  than  is  mentioned  in  any  other 
Company.  The  ancient  custom  of  electing  wardens 
is. still  retained  by  this  Company.  A  sort  of  cap, 
fronted  with  a  metal  plate,  is  placed  successively 
on  the  head  of  each  new  warden. 

The  second  Fishmongers'  Hall,  though  usually 
ascribed  to  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  was  built  by  a 
Mr.  Jerman,  who  was  also  the  architect  of  Drapers' 
Hall  and  the  second  Royal  Exchange.  Old  Fish- 
mongers' Hall  was  a  stately  structure,  particularly 
the  front  towards  the  river,  of  which  it  commanded 
a  very  fine  view.  The  Thames  Street  front  was  a 
mere  cluster  of  houses;  the  entrance,  however, 
was  pleasing.  It  was  ornamented  with  sculptured 
pilasters,  sustaining  an  open  pediment,  which 
had  the  Company's  arms  carved  in  bold  relief. 
The  buildings  environed  a  square  court,  hand- 
somely paved.  The  dining-hall  formed  the  south 
side  of  the  court,  and  was  a  spacious  and  lofty 
apartment,  having,  besides  the  usual  accompani- 
ment of  a  screen  of  Grecian  architecture,  a  capa- 


cious gallery  running  round  the  whole  interior,  and 
a  statue  of  Sir  William  Walworth,  said  by  Walpole 
to  have  been  carved  by  an  artist  named  Pierce. 
The  rooms  for  business  lay  on  the  west  side  of  the 
court,  and  those  for  courts  and  withdrawing  at 
entertainments  on  the  east,  which  were  ornamented 
with  many  rich  decorations,  and  paintings  of  a 
great  variety  of  fish,  not  easy  to  be  described. 

In  Hollar's  large  four-sheet  view  of  London, 
1647,  we  perceive  two  courtyards,  evidently  formed 
by  running  a  dining-hall,  or  refectory — high-roofed 
and  turreted,  like  that  of  Westminster — across 
the  original  quadrangle.  This  view  also  affords 
a  good  representation  of  the  Thames  front,  which 
appears  of  an  irregular  form  and  unomamental, 
but  to  have  been  at  one  time  regular  and  hand- 
some. It  consists  of  two  wings  and  a  receding 
centre,  the  latter  having  a  balcony  at  the  first  floor, 
double  rows  of  windows,  a  lofty  octagonal  tower 
or  staircase  rising  above  the  roof,  and  crowned  with 
a  sort  of  cupola;  there  was  also  a  large  arched 
doonvay  leading  to  a  small  terrace  on  the  Thames, 
similar  to  the  present  house.  The  wings  were 
evidently,  when  perfect,  uniform  square  to^vers, 
harmonising  with  the  centre  ;  but  only  the  western 
one  here  remains  in  its  original  state,  the  eastern 
one  being  modernised  and  roofed  like  a  common 
house. 

In  De  Hogenberg's  earlier  plan  of  London,  Fish- 
mongers' Hall  appears  as  a  square  pile  of  masonry, 
with  embatded  parapets,  towers  at  the  angles,  a 
central  gateway,  and  steps  leading  from  the  river 
to  one  of  the  side  towers. 

In  no  worse  spot  in  all  London  could  the  Great 
Fire  have  broken  out  than  Pudding  Lane.  It 
found  there  stores  of  oil,  hemp,  flax,  pitch,  tar, 
cordage,  hops,  wines,  brandies,  and  wharves  for 
coal  and  timber.  Fishmongers'  Hall  was  the  first 
great  building  consumed  when,  as  Dry  den  says,  in 
two  splendid  lines, 

"A  key  of  fire  ran  all  along  the  shore, 
And  frightened  all  the  river  with  a  blaze." 

The  building  on  the  river-side  was  reduced  to  a 
shell.  Even  the  hall  itself,  which  was  at  the  back, 
with  a  high  roof  and  turret,  was  entirely  destroyed, 
as  well  as  two  sets  of  stairs,  and  the  houses  round 
the  Old  Swan  and  Black  Raven  Alley.  After  the 
Fire,  the  building  committee  met  at  Bethlehem 
Hospital.  Sir  WilHam  Davenant  (Shakespeare's 
supposed  son),  describing  this  part  of  London 
before  the  Great  Fire,  says  :  "  Here  a  palace,  there 
a  wood-yard ;  here  a  garden,  there  a  brewhouse  • 
here  dwelt  a  lord,  there  a  dyer ;  and  between 
both  duPTOO  commune,"     A   strange,  picturesque 


fishmongers*  Hall.] 


WALWORTH'S  .DAGGER, 


spot,  half  Dutch,  half  Venetian,  this   part  of  the 
river-side  must  have  been  before  the  Great  Fire. 

The  present  Fishmongers'  JHall,  at  the  north- 
west foot  of  London  Bridge  (says  Timbs),  was  re- 
built by  Roberts  in  1830-33,  and  is  the  third  of 
the  Company's  halls  nearly  on  this  site.  It  is 
raised  upon  a  lofty  basement  cased  with  granite, 
and  contains  fire-proof  warehouses,  which  yield 
a  large  rental.  The  river  front  has  a  balustraded 
terrace,  and  a  Grecian-Ionic  hexastyle  and  pedi- 
ment. The  east  or  entrance  front  is  enriched  by 
pilasters  and  columns,  and  the  arms  of  the  Company 
and  crest.  The  entrance-hall  is  separated  from  the 
great  staircase  by  a  screen  of  polished  Aberdeen 
granite  columns ;  and  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  is 
Pierce's  statue  of  Sir  William  Walworth  a  Fish- 
monger, who  carries  a  dagger.  In  his  hand  was 
formerly  a  real  dagger,  said  to  be  the  identical 
weapon  with  which  he  stabbed  Wat  Tyler ;  though, 
in  1 73 1,  a  publican  of  Islington  pretended  to 
possess  the  actual  poniard.  Beneath  the  statue  is 
this  inscription  : — 

"  Brave  Walworth,  Knight,  Lord  Mayor,  yt  sl^w 
Rebellious  Tyler  in  his  alarmes  j 
The  King,  therefore,  did  give  in  liew 
The  dagger  to  the  City  armes, 
In  the  4th  year  of  Richard  II.,  Anno  Domini  1381." 

A  common  but  erroneous  belief  was  thus  propa- 
gated ;  for  the  dagger  was, in  the  City  arms  long 
before  the  time  of  Sir  William  Walworth,  and  was 
intended  to  represent  the  sword  of  St.  Paul,  the 
pati-on  saint  of  the  Corporation.  The  reputed 
dagger  of  Walworth,  which  has  lost  its  guard,  is 
preserved  by  the  Company.  The  workmanship  is 
no  doubt  that  of  Walworth's  period.  The  weapon 
now  in  the  hand  of  the  statue  (which  is  somewhat 
picturesque,  and  within  recollection  was  coloured 
en  costicme)  is  modern. 

Amongst  celebrated  Fishmongers  and  their 
friends  we  must  mention  Isaac  Pennington,  the 
turbulent  Lord  Mayor  of  the  Civil  War  under 
Charles  I. ;  and  Dogget,  the  comedian  and  Whig, 
who  bequeathed  a  sum  of  money  for  the  purchase 
of  a  "  coat  and  badge,"  to  be  rowed  for  every  ist 
of  August  from  the  "Swan"  at  London  Bridge 
to  the  "  Swan "  at  Battersea,  in  remembrance  of 
George  I.'s  accession  to  the  throne. 

In  Fishmongers'  Hall  there  is  an  original  drawing 
of  a  portion  of  the  pageant  exhibited  by  the  Fish- 
mongers' Company  on  the  29th  of  October,  1616, 
on  the  occasion  of  Sir  John  Leman,  a  member  of 
the  Company,  entering  on  the  office  of  Lord  Mayor 
of  the  City  of  London,  and  the  following  portraits  : 
William  III.  and  queen,  by  Murray;  George  II. 
and  queen,  by  Schakleton ;  Dukes  of  Kent  and 


Sussex,  by  Beechey;  Earl  St.  Vincent  (the  admiral), 
by  Beechey ;  Queen  Victoria,  by  Herbert  Smith  ; 
the  Margrave  of  Anspach  and  Margravine,  by  G. 
Rowney ;  the  late  Lord  Chancellor  Hatherley,  by 
Wells. 

"The  Fishmongers,"  says  Herbert,  "have  no 
wardens'  accounts  or  minutes  of  an  earlier  date 
than  1592,  their  more  ancient  ones  having  been 
either  destroyed  in  the  Fire  of  London  or  other- 
wise lost.  The  title-deeds  of  their  various  estates 
commence  as  far  back  as  9  Edwar-d  III.,  and  are 
finely  preserved,  as  are  also  their  Book  of  Ordi- 
nances and  some  other  ancient  documents  relating 
to  the  Company.  The  minutes  remaining — or,  as 
they  are  termed  in  this  Company,  '  court  ledgers ' 
— consist  of  eight  folio  volumes,  separately  dated." 

The  Fishmongers'  greatest  curiosity  is  their 
pall,  commonly  although  erroneously  described  as 
"Walworth's  pall;"  it  is  in  three  pieces,  Hke  the 
famous  pall  of  the  Merchant  Taylors,  and  exactly 
resembles  in  shape  one  belonging  to  the  Saddlers' 
—namely,  that  of  a  cross.  It  consists  of  a  centre 
slip,  about  12  feet  long  and  2  J  feet  wide,  and  two 
shorter  sides,  each  8  feet  1 1  inches  long  by  i  foot 
4  inches  wide,  and  when  laid  over  a  corpse  must 
have  totally  enveloped  the  coffin,  but  without  corner 
falls,  like  our  modern  palls.  In  the  style  of  orna- 
ment, workmanship,  and  materials,  this  is  one  of 
the  most  superb  works  of  its  kind  of  ancient  art, 
and  in  this  country,  as  a  relic  of  the  old  Catholic 
faith," has  probably  no  parallel.  The  pattern  of  the 
central  part  is  a  sprig,  or  running  flower,  which  is 
composed  of  gold  network,  bordered  with  red,  and 
the  whole  of  whicH  reposes  on  a  smooth,  solid 
ground  of  cloth  of  gold.  The  end  pieces  and  side 
borders  to  this  middle  slip  are  worked  in  different 
pictures  and  representations.  The  end  pieces  con- 
sist of  a  very  rich  and  massy  wrought  picture,  in  gold 
and  silk,  of  the  patron,  St.  Peter,  in  fontificalibiis. 
He  is  seated  on  a  superb  throne,  his  head  crowned 
with  the  sacred  tiara.  One  hand  holds  the  keys ; 
the  other  is  in  the  position  of  giving  the  bene- 
diction. On  each  side  of  the  saint  is  a  kneeling 
angel,  censing  him  with  one  hand,  and  holding  a 
sort  of  golden  vase  with  the  other.  Each  of  these 
end  pieces  is  perfectly  similar ;  and  the  materials, 
which  are  beautifully  worked,  are  of  gold  and  silk. 
The  aiigels'  wings,  according  to  the  old  custom  in 
such  representations,  are  composed  of  pea;cocks' 
feathers,  in  all  their  natural  vivid  colours.  The 
outer  robes  are  gold,  raised  with  crimson;  their 
under-vests  white,  shaded  with  sky-blue.  The 
faces  are  finely  worked  in  satin,  after  nature ; 
and  they  have  long  yellow  hair.  St.  Peter's  vest, 
or  under-robe,  is  crimson,  raised  with  gold ;  the 


OLB   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


ti'ishmongers'  Hall. 


inside  of  the  hanging  sleeve  of  his  outer  robe,  or 
coat,  azure,  powdered  with  gold  stars.  A  golden 
nimbus,  or  rather  glory,  encircles  his  head ;  and 
in  his  lap  is  placed  an  open  book,  having  the 
following  inscription  in  old  English  black-letter  on 
a  silver  ground  :  "  Credo  in  Deum  Patrern,  Omni- 
potentem,''  at  the  one  end  piece  ;  and  at  the  other 
siniilarly,  "Credo  in- Deum  Patrem,  omnium."  The 
pictures  of  the  side  pieces  are  divided  into  three 
compartments.    The  centre  is  Christ  delivering  the 


Claves  Regum  Coelo'm.''  Both  figures  stand  in 
a  beautiful  arched  recess,  within  Gothic-pinnacled 
buildings  and  ornaments.  On  each  side  of  this 
middle  picture  (which  is  the  same  on  both  sides) 
the  decorations  are  made  up  of  the  Fishmongers' 
arms,  richly  and  properly  emblazoned.  The  sup- 
porters (merman  and  mermaid)  are  worked  in  their 
natural  colours.  The  merman  wears  gold  armour. 
The  mermaid's  body  is.  of  white  silk  thread,  beauti- 
fully worked  ;  her  long  tresses  of  golden  thread. 


THE   SECOND    FISH.MONGEKS'    HALL   {sec  page  ^). 


keys  to  Peter,  the  latter  of  whom  is  kneeling,  and 
habited  as  in  the  end  pieces,  but  with  only  a  glory 
encircUng  the  head,  and  no  crown  (he  not  being 
crowned  Prince  of  the  Apostles).  The  Saviour  is 
habited  agreeably  to  the  usual  representations  of 
him  ■  as  regards  costume.  His  robe  is  crimson, 
raised  with  gold ;  the  inner  vesture  purple,  and 
very  rich.  Around  the  head  is  a  superb  circular 
glory,  jewelled  and  coronetted.  He  graciously 
stoops  to  deliver  the  two  golden  keys  of  heaven 
and  hell  with  one  hand ;  while  with  the  other 
he  poises  the  golden  orb  of  sovereignty,  sur- 
mounted with  the  cross.  A  label  proceeding 
from  the  mouth '  has  inscribed,  in  black-letter 
and  on  a  silver  ground,  as  before :  "  Tibi  dabo 


A  superb  jewel  hangs  by  a  gold  chain  from  her 
neck.  Her  mirror  reflects  a  head  like  that  oi 
Christ  or  St.  Peter.  The  entire  pall  has  a  fringe 
two  inches  deep  of  gold  and  purple  silk  threads, 
and  is  lined  inside  with  Hack  silk.  The  weight  of 
the  whole,  owing  to  the  quantity  of  gold  and  silver 
worked  into  it,  is  very  considerable  j  and  it  is  in 
the  finest  preservation. 

The  Saddlers'  Company  also  still  have  a  valuable 
pall,  though  not  so  costly.  It  is  of  crimson  velvet. 
The  centre  is  of  yellow  silk,  forming  an  elegant 
sprig  pattern.  On  one  side  of  the  pall  there  is 
embroidered  in  raised  work  of  gold  thread,  in  the 
old  English  character,  the  words,  "  In  te  Domine 
speravi'j''  and  on  the  other  side,  worked  in  like 


Fishmongers'  Hall.] 


'IHE  WALWORTH  PALL. 


iil,:,,;;Jillhi'jiiUlilil:i!'lilfeliy3!illiH;iilii:lil'Bl^ 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


fFish  Street  Hill. 


manner,  the  words,  "Ne  me  confunde  in  aeter- 
nam."  The  head  and 'foot  of  the  pall  have  em- 
broidered on  them  the  arms  of  the  Company,  and 
four  kneeling  angels  surrounding  the  letters  I.H.S. 
encircled  by  a  glory.  The  whole  is  bordered  with 
a  broad  gold  fringe. 

"A  curious  relic  of  the  old   shows,"  says  Mr. 
Herbert,  "  is  kept  by  the  Fishmongers.     It  is  the 
original  drawing  for  the  mayoralty  procession  of 
their  member.  Sir  John  Leman,  in  1616,  and  which, 
from  containing  allusions  in  it  to  the  story  of  Wal- 
worth and  Wat  Tyler,  has  been  called,  in  the  most 
modern  accounts  of  London,  'The  Procession  of 
Sir  William  Walworth  in  1380.'     The  representa- 
tion occupies  a  roll  of  strong  paper  several  feet  in 
length,  filled  with   characters   and  objects  six  or 
seven  inches  high,  well  drawn,  and   all  properly 
coloured,   emblazoned,    and  gilt.      The   pageants 
have  inscriptions  over  them  in  the  handwriting  of 
the  time,  from  which  we  learn    that    it  was   the 
custom  to  suspend  them  from  the  roof  of  the  hall 
when  done  with,  for  future  solemnities.      Several 
of  the  Companies  still  possess  remains  of  their  old 
shows,   in    particular    the    Grocers.     The    scenes 
were  painted   like   those   of  the  theatres,  in   dis- 
temper, and  the  animals,   or  'beasts  which  drew 
the    pageants,'  were  'fabricated  so  like  what   are 
used    there,   that   there    seems   Uttle   doubt    that 
the  latter  specimens,    at  least,  were  the  work  of 
theatrical  artists.      Those  who   had  no  pageants 
(which  were  confined  to  the  twelve)  have  many  of 
them  other  articles  which  were  used  in  their  pro- 
cessions.    We  saw  in  the  old  pageant-chamber  at 
Brewers'  Hall  the  fittings-up  of  their  state  barge^ 
with  various  other  relics ;  and  in  a  corner  of  the 
room   stood  silk  banners  and  streamers,  covered 
with  dust  and  dropping  from  their  staves — a  melan- 
choly memento  of  former  splendour." 

Fish  Street  Hill  was  formerly  called  New  Fish 
Street.  The  Black  Prince  once  lived  there';  accord- 
ing to  Stow.  "  Above  Crooked  Lane  end,  upon 
Fish  Street  Hill,"  he  says,  "  is  one  great  house, 
for  the  most  part  built  of  stone,  which  pertained 
some  time  to  Edward  the  Black  PrinCe,  son  of 
Edward  IH.,  who  was  in  his  lifetime  lodged  there. 
It  is  now  altered  to  a  common  hostelry,  having  the 
'  Black  Beir  for  a  sign."  Here,  too,  was  the  scene 
of  Jack  Cade's  utmost  fury,  when  he  let  slip  the 
dogs  of  war,  and,  according  to  Shakespeare,  shouted 
out  his  cruel  commands  of  "  Up  Fish  Street ! 
Down  St.  Magnus'  corner  !  Kill  and  knock  down ! 
Throw  them  into  Thames  ! " 

The  churchyard  of  St.  Leonard  marks  the  site 
of  a  church  of  no  interest  destroyed  by  the  .Great 
Fire.      Many  of  the  Doggets  were  buried  there. 


In  Ben  Jonson's  time  King's  Head  Court,  near 
the  Monument,  was  a  tavern,  celebrated  for  its 
wine,  and  much  resorted  to  by  roysterers.  He 
mentions  it  in  that  wretched  play  of  his  paralytic 
old  age,  The  Magnetic  Lady;  and  "  Fisfe  Street 
dinners"  are  especially  noted  as  luxurious  things 
in  one  of  the  Roxburghe  ballads. 

Any  spot  in  London  that  can  be  connected  with 
the  name  of  Goldsmith  becomes  at  once  ennobled. 
It  was  in  Monument  Yard  that  the  poor  poet,  on  his 
return  from  his  foreign  tour,  served  as  shopman  to 
a  chemist.     "  He  went  among  the  London  apothe- 
caries," says  Mr.  Forster,  "  and  asked  them  to  let 
him  spread  plaisters  for  them,  pound  in  their  mor- 
tars, run  with  their  medicines  ;  but  they  asked  him 
for  a  character,  and  he  had  none  to  give.     'His 
threadbare    coat,'    says  the    'Percy  Memoir,'  'his 
uncouth  figure,  and  Hibernian  dialect,  caused  him 
to  meet  with  repeated  refusals.'     At  last  a  chemist 
of  the  name  of  Jacob  took  compassion  upon  him ; 
and  the  late  Conversation  Sharp  used  to  point  out 
a  shop  at  the  corner  of  Monument  Yard,  on  Fish 
Street  Hill,  shown  to  him  in  his  youth  as  this  bene- 
volent  Mr.   Jacob's."      Of  his    struggles    at   this 
time  Goldsmith  himself  tells  us,  in  his  "Vicar  of 
Wakefield."     "Upon  my  arrival  in  town,  sir,"  he 
says,  in  his  delightful  novel,    "my  first  care  was 
to  deliver  your  letter   of  recommendation   to  our 
cousin,   who   was   himself  in  little  better  circum- 
stances than  I.     My  first  scheme,  you  know,  sir, 
was  to  be  usher  at  an  academy,  and  I  asked  his 
advice  on  the  affair.     Our  cousin  received  the  pro- 
posal with  a  true  sardonic  grin.    '  Ay,'  cried  he,  '  this 
is  indeed  a  very  pretty  career  that  has  been  chalked 
out  for  you.     I  have  been  an  usher  at  a  boarding- 
school  myself;    and   may  I   die   by  an    anodyne 
necklace,    but   I   had  rather  be  under-turnkey  in 
Newgate.     I  was  up  early  and  late;  I  was  brow- 
beat by  the  master,  hated  for  my  ugly  face  by  the 
mistress,  worried  by   the  boys  within,   and  never 
permitted    to   stir   out  to  receive  civility  abroad. 
But  are  you  sure  you  are  fit  for  a  school  ?    Let  me 
examine  you   a  little.     Have   you  been  bred  ap- 
prentice to  the  business?'      'No.'      'Then  you 
won't  do  for  a  school.     Can  you  dress  the  boys' 
hair?'     'No.'     'Then  you  won't  do  for  a  school. 
Have  you  had  the  smallpox?'     •  Nq.'    'Then  you 
won't   do   for  a  school.     Can  you  lie  three  in  a 
bed?'      'No.'      'Then  you  will  never  do  for  a 
school.     Have  you  got  a  good  stomach?'     'Yes.' 
'  Then  you  will  by  no  means  do  for  a  school.' " 

It  was  from  his  rough  training  here  that  Gold- 
smith was  afterwards  enabled  to  start  as  a  humble 
physician,  taking  care  to  hide  the  holes  in  the  front 
of  his  coat  with  his  hat  when  he  paid  his  visits. 


London  Bridge.] 


ST.  MARY  OVERIE. 


CHAPTER  II. 
LONDON    BRIDGE. 

'  Old  Moll"— Legend  of  John  Overy— The  Old  Wooden  Bridge— The  First  Stone  Bridge— Insults  to  Queen  Eleanor— The  Head  of  Wallace- 
Tournament  on  London  Bridge— Welcome  to  Richard  II. — Murderers'  Heads— Return  of  Henry  V.— The  Poet  Lydgate— Funeral  of  Henry  V. 
—Brawls  on  London  Bridge — Accident  to  a  Ducal  Barge— Lollards'  Heads  on  the  Bridge — Entry  of  Henry  VI. — Fall  of  the  End  Tower — 
Margaret  of  Anjou — Jack  Cade  and  his  Ruffianly  Crew— Falconbridge— Other  Heads  on  the  Bridge— Bishop  Fisher— Sir  Thomas  More— 
Wyatt's  Rebellion — Restoration  in  Elizabeth's  Reign — Fire  on  the  Bridge — Removal  of  the  Houses — Temporary  Wooden  Bridge — Smeaton's 
Repairs— Ronnie's  New  Bridge— Laying  the  First  Stone— Celebrated  Dwellers  on  the  Old  Bridge— The  Force  of  Habit— Jewish  Tradition 
about  London  Bridge — Average  Number  of  Fassiengers  over  the  Bridge. 


There  are  few  spots  in  London  where,  within  a  I 
very  limited  and  strictly-defined  space,  so  many  his- 
torical events  have  happened,  as  on  Old  London 
Bridge.  It  was  a  battle-field  and  a  place  of  reli- 
gious worship,  a  resort  of  traders  and  a  show-place 
for  traitors'  heads.  Its  Nonsuch  House  was  one 
of  the  sights  of  London  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth ; 
and  the  passage  between  its  arches  was  one  of  the 

;  exploits  of  venturous  youth,  down  to  the  very  time 
of  its  removal.     Though  never  beautiful  or  stately, 

,   London  Bridge  was  one  of  those  sights  that  visitors 
to  the  metropolis  never  forgot. 

There  is  no  certain  record  of  when  the  first 
London  Bridge  was  built.  It  is  true  that  Dion 
Cassiiis,  writing  nearly  two  hundred  years  after  the 
invasion  of  Britain  by  Claudius, .  speaks  vaguely  of 
a  bridge  across  the  Thames  in  the  reign  of  that 
emperor ;  but  it  is  more  probable  that  no  bridge 
really  existed  till  the  year  994,  the  year  after  the 
invasion  of  Olaf  the  Dane,  in  the  reign  of  King 
Ethelred.  It  is  at  least  certain  that  in  the  year  1008, 
in  the  reign  of  Ethelred  II.,  the  Unready,  there 
was  a  bridge,  for,  according  to  Snorro  Sturlesonius, 
an  Icelandic  historian,  Olaf  the  Norwegian,  an  ally 
of  Ethelred,  attacking  the  Danes  who  had  fortified 
themselves  in  Southwark,  fastened  his  vessels,  to 
the  piles  of  London  Bridge,  which  the  Danes  held, 
and  dragged  down  the  whole  structure.  This  Olaf, 
afterwards  a  martyr,  is  the  patron  saint  from  whom 
the  church  now  standing  at  the  south-east  corner  of 
London  Bridge,  derived  its  Christian  name.  Tooley 
Street  below,  a  word  corrupted  from  Saint  Olave, 
also  preserves  the  memory  of  the  Norwegian  king, 
eventually  slain  near  Drontheim  by  Knut,.  King  of 
Denmark. 

Still,  whenever  the  churchwardens  and  vestry  of 
St.  Mary  Overie's,  Bankside,  meet  over  their  cups, 
the  first  toast,  says  an  antiquary  who  has  written 
an  exhaustive  history  of  London  Bridge,  is  to  their 
church's  patron  saint,  "Old  Moll."  This  Old 
Moll  was,  according  to  Stow,  Mary,  the  daughter 
of  a  ferryman  at  this  part  of  the  river,  who  left  all 
her  money  to  build  a  house  of  sisters,  where  the  j 
east  part  of  St.  Mary  Overie's  now  stands.  In  time  | 
the  nunnery  became  a  house  of  priests,  who  erected  ; 


the  first  wooden  bridge  over  the  Thames.  There 
is  still  existing  at  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  Overie's 
a  skeleton  effigy,  which  some  declare  to  be  that 
of  Audery,  the  ferryman,  father  of  the  immortal  ~ 
Moll.  The  legend  was  that  this  John  Overy,  or 
Audery,  was  a  rich  and  covetous  man,  penurious, 
and  insanely  fond  of  hoarding  his  hard-earned 
fees.  He  had  a  pious  and  beautiful  daughter, 
who,  though  kept  in  seclusion  by  her  father,  was 
loved  by  a  young  gallant,  who  secretly  wooed 
and  won  her.  One  day  the  old  hunks,  to  save  a 
day's  food,  resolved  to  feign  himself  dead  for 
twenty-four  hours,  vainly  expecting  that  his  servants, 
from  common  decency,  would  fast  till  his  funeral. 
With  his  daughter's  help  he  therefore  laid  himself 
out,  wrapped  in  a  sheet,  with  one  taper  burning  at 
his  feet,  and  another  at  his  head.  The  lean,  half- 
starved  servants,  however,  instead  of  lamenting 
their  master's  decease,  leaped  up  overjoyed,  danced 
round  the  body,  broke  open  the  larder,  and  fell  to 
feasting.  The  old  ferryman  bore  all  this  as  long 
as  flesh  and  blood  could  bear  it,  but  at  last  he 
scrambled  up  in  his  sheet,  a  candle  in  each  hand, 
to  scold  and  chase  the  rascals  from  the  house ; 
when  one  of  the  boldest  of  them,  thinking  it  was 
the  devil  himself,  snatched  up  the  butt-end  of  a 
broken  oar,  and  struck  out  his  master's  brains. 
On  hearing  of  this  unintentional  homicide,  the  lover 
came  posting  up  to  London  so  fast  that  his  horse 
stumbled,  and  the  eager  lover,  alas  !  breke  his 
neck.  On  this  second  misfortune,  Mary  Overy, 
shrouding  her  beauty  in  a  cowl,  retired  into  a  cloister 
for  life.  The  corpse  of  the  old  miser  was  refused 
Christian  burial,  he  being  deemed^ by  the  clergy 
a  wicked  and  excommunicated  man ;  the  friars  of 
Bermondsey  Abbey,  however,  in  the  absence  of 
their  father  abbot,  were  bribed  to  give  the  body  "  a 
little  earth,  for  ■  charity."  The  abbot  on  his  return, 
enraged  at  the  friars'  cupidity,  had  the  corpse  dug 
up  and  thrown  on  the  back  of  an  ass,  that  was 
then  turned,  out  of  the  abbey  gates.  The  patient 
beast  carried  the  corpse  up  Kent  Street,  and 
shook  it  off  under  the  gibbet  near  the  small  pond 
once  called  St.  Thomas  k  Waterings,  where  it  was 
roughly  interred.     The  ferryman's  effigy  referred  to 


10 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[London  Bridge. 


before  is  really,  as  Gough,  in  his  "Sepulchral 
Monuments,"  says  most  of  such  figures  are,  the 
work  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Now  the  real 
.\udery,  if  he  lived  at  all,  lived  long  before  the 
Conquest;  for  the  first  wooden  bridge  was,  it  is 
thought,  probably  built  to  stop  the  Danish  pirate- 
vessels. 

The  old  wooden  bridge  was  destroyed  by  a  ter- 
rific flood  and  storm,  mentioned  in  the  "  Chronicle 
of  Florence  of  Worcester,"  which,  in  the  year  1090, 
blew  down  six  hundred  London  houses,  and  lifted 
the  roof  off  Bow  Church.  In  the  second  year  of 
Stephen  a  fire,  that  swept  away  all  the  wooden 
houses  of  London  from  Aldgate  to  St.  Paul's,  de- 
stroyed the  second  wooden  bridge. 

The  first  stone  London  Bridge  was  begun  in 
1 176,  by  Peter,  a  priest  and  chaplain  of  St.  Mary 
Colechurch,  a  building  which,  till  the  Great  Fire 
made  short  work  of  it,  stood  in  Conyhoop  Lane, 
on  the  north  side  of  the  Poultry.  There  long 
existed  a  senseless  tradition  that  pious  Peter  of  the 
Poultry  reared  the  arches  of  his  bridge  upon  wool- 
paeks ;  the  fact,  perhaps,  being  that  Henry  II. 
generously  gave  towards  the  building  a  new  tax 
levied  upon  his  subjects'  wool.  Peter's  bridgcj 
which  occupied  thirty-three  years  in  its  construc- 
tion, boasted  nineteen  pointed  stone  aVches,  and 
was  926  feet  long,  and  40  feet  wide.  It  included 
a  wooden  drawbridge,  and  the  piers  were  raised 
upon  platforms  (called  starlings)  of  strong  elm  piles, 
covered  by  thick  planks  bolted  together,  that  im- 
peded the  passage  of  barges.  On  one  of  the  piers 
was  erected  a  two-storeyed  chapel,-  forty  feet  high 
and  sixty  feet  long,  to  St.  Thomas  k  Becket.  The 
lower  chapel  could  be  entered  either  from  the 
chapel  above  or  from  the  river,  by  a  flight  of  stone 
stairs.  The  founder  himself  was  buried  under  the 
chapel  staircase.  Peter's  bridge  was  partly  de- 
stroyed by  a  great  fire  in  12 12,  four  years  after  -it 
was  finished,  and  while  its  stones  were  still  sharp 
and  white.  There  were  even  then  houses  upon  it, 
and  gate-towers ;  and  many  people  crowding  to 
help,  or  to  see  the  sight,  got  wedged  in  between 
two  fires  by  a  shifting  of  the  wind,  and  being 
unable  to  escape,  some  three  thousand  were  either 
burnt  or  drowned. 

King  John,  after  this,  granted  certain  tolls,  levied 
on  foreign  merchants,  towards  the  bridge  repairs. 
Henry  III.,  according  to  a  patent-roll  dated  from 
Portsmouth,  1252,  permitted  certain  monks,  called 
the  Brethren  of  London  Bridge,  with  his  especial 
sanction,  to  travel  over  England  and  collect  alms. 
In  this  same  reign  (1263)  the  bridge  became  the 
scene  of  great  scorn  and  insult,  shown  by  the 
turbulent   citizens  to    Henry's   queen,   Eleanor  of 


Provence,  who  was  opposed  to  the  people's  friends, 
the  barons,  who  were  still  contending  for  the 
final  settlement  of  Magna  Charta.  As  the  queen 
and  her  ladies,  in  their  gilded  barge,  were  on 
their  way  to  Windsor,  and  preparing  to  shoot  the 
dangerous  bridge,  the  rabble  above  assailed  her 
with  shouts  and  reproaches,  and  casting  heavy 
stones,  and  mud  into  her  boat,  at  her  and  her 
bright-clothed  maidens,  drove  them,  back  to  the. 
Tower,  where  the  king  was  garrisoned.  Towards 
the  end  of  the  same  year,  when  Simon  de  Mont- 
fort,  Earl  of  Leicester,  marched  on  London,  the 
king  and  his  forces  occupied  Southwark,  and,  to 
thwart  the  citizens,  locked  up  the  bridge-gates,  and 
threw  the  ponderous  keys  into  the  Thames.  But 
no  locks  can  bar  out  Fate.  The  gates  were  broken 
open  by  a  flood  of  citizens,  the  king  was  driven 
back,  and  Simon  entered  London.  After  the  battle 
of  Evesham,  where  the  great  earl  fell,  the  king, 
perhaps  remembering  old  grudges,  took  the  half- 
ruinous  bridge  into  his  own  hands  and  delivered 
it  over  to  the  queen,  who  sadly  neglected  it.  There 
were  great  complaints  of  this  neglect  in  the  reign 
of  Edward  I.,  and  again  the  Holy  Brothers  went 
forth  to  collect  alms  throughout  the  land.  The 
king  gave  lands  also  for  the  support  of  the  bridge — 
namely,  -near  the  Mansion  House,  Old  Change, 
and  Ivy  Lane.  He  also  appointed  tolls — every 
man  on  foot,  with  merchandise,  to  pay  one  farthing ; 
every  horseman,  one  penny  ;  every  pack  carried  on 
horseback,  one  halfpenny.  This  same  year  (r28i) 
four  arches  of  London  Bridge  were  carried  away 
by  the  same  thaw-flood  that  destroyed  Rochester 
Bridge. 

The  reign  of  Edward  I.  was  disgraced  by  the  cruel 
revenge  taken  by  the  warlike  monarch  on  William 
Wallace.  In  August,  1305,  on  Edward's  return 
from  the  fourth  invasion  of  Scotland,  "  this  man  of 
Behal,"  as  Matthew  of  Westminster  calls  Wallace, 
was  drawn  on  a  sledge  to  Smithfield,  there  hanged, 
embowelled,  beheaded,  quartered,  and  his  head  set 
on  a  pole  on  London  Bridge.  An  old  ballad  in 
the  Harleian  Collection,  describing  the  execution  of 
Simon  Fraser,  another  Scotch  guerilla  leader,  in  the 
following  year,  concludes  thus — 

"  Many  was  the  wives-chil'   that  looked  on  him  that  day, 
And  said,  Alas  !  that  he  was  bom,  and  so  vilely  forlorn, 
So  fierce  man  as  he  was. 
Now  stands  the  head  above  the  town  bridge, 
Fast  by  \Vallace,  sooth  for  to  say, " 

The  heads  of  these  two  Scotch  patriots  were 
no  doubt,  placed  side  by  side  on  the  gate  at  the 
north  or  London  end  of  the  bridge. 

The  troublous  reign  of  the  young  profligate 
Rjcliard  II.,  brought  more  fighting  to  the  bridge,  for 


Loudon  Bridge.] 


THE  TOURNAMENT  ON   THE   BRIDGE. 


Wat  Tyler  and  his  fierce  Kentish  and  Surrey  men 
then  came  chafing  to  the  gates,  which  the  Lord 
Mayor,  WiUiam  Walworth,  had  chained  and  barred, 
puUing  up  the  drawbridge.  Upon  this  the  wild  men 
shouted  across  to  the  wardens  of  the  bridge  to  let 
it  down,  or  they  would  destroy  them  all,  and  from 
sheer  fear  the  wardens  yielded.  Through  that 
savage  crowd  the  Brethren  of  the  Bridge,  as  Thomas 
of  Walsingham  says,  came  passing  with  processions 
and  prayers  for  peace. 

In  1390  fighting  of  a  gayer  and"  less  bloodthirsty 
kind  took  place  on  the  bridge.  No  dandy  Eglinton 
tournament  this,  but  a  genuine  grapple  with  spear, 
sword,  and  dagger.  Sir  David  Lindsay,  of  Glenesk, 
who  had  married  a  daughter  of  Robert  II.,  King  of 
Scotland,  challenged  to  the  joust  Lord  Wells,  our  am- 
bassador in  Scotland,  a  man  described  by  Andrew 
of  Wyntoun,  a  poetical  Scotch  chronicler,  as  being 

"  Manful,  stout,  and  of  good  pith, 
And  high  of  Iieart  he  was  therewith. " 

Sir  David  arrived  from  Scotland  with  twenty- 
nine  attendants  and  thirty  horses.  The  king  pre- 
sided at  the  tournament.  The  arms  Lindsay  bore 
on  his  shield,  banner,  and  trappings  were  gules,  a 
fesse  cheque  argent  and  azure ;  those  of  Wells,  or, 
a  lion  rampant,  double  queue,  sable.  ■  At  the  first 
shock  the  spears  broke,  and  the  crowd  shouted 
that  Lindsay  was  tied  to  his  saddle.  The  earl 
at  that  leaped  off  his  charger,  vaulted  back,  and 
dashed  on  to  the  collision.  At  the  third  crash 
Wells  fell  heavily,  as  if  dead.  In  the  final  grapple 
Lindsay,  fastening  his  dagger  into  the  armour  of 
the  English  knight,  lifted  him  from  the  ground 
and  dashed  him,  finally  vanquished,  to  the  earth. 
According  to  Andrew  of  Wyntoun,  the  king  called 
out  from  his  "  summer  castle,"  "  Good  cousin 
Lindsay;  do  forth  that  thou  should  do  this  day," 
but  the  generous  Scotchman  threw  himself  on 
Wells  and  embraced  him  till  he  revived.  Nor  did 
he  stop  there ;  during  Wells's  sickness  of  three 
months  Lindsay  visited  him  in  the  gentlest  manner, 
even  like  the  most  courteous  companion,  and  did 
not  omit  one  day.  "  For  he  had  fought,"  says 
Boethius,  "without  anger,  and  but  for  glory."  And 
to  commemorate  that  glorious  St.  George's  day,  the 
Scotch  knight  founded  a  chantry  at  Dundee,  with 
a  gift  of  forty-eight  marks  (^32)  yearly,  for"  seven 
priests  and  divers  virgins  to  sing  anthems  to  the 
patron  saint  of  England.* 

.  In  1392,  when  Richard  II.  returned  to  London, 
reconciled  to  the  citizens,  who  had  resented  his 
reckless  extravagaiace,  London  Bridge  was  the 
centre  of  splendid  pageants.  At  the  bridge-gate 
the  citizens  presented  the  handsome  young  scape- 
grace with  a  milk-white  charger,  caparisoned  in 


cloth  of  gold  and  hung  with  silver  bells,  and  gave 
the  queen  a  white  palfrey,  caparisoned  in  white 
and  red;  while  from  every  window  hung  cloths 
of  gold  and  silver.  I'he  citizens  ended  by  redeem- 
ing their  forfeited  charter  by  the  outrageous  payment 

of  ;^IO,OOCf. 

In  1396,  when  Richard  had  lost  his  first  queen, 
Anne  of  Bohemia,  and  married  the  child-daughter 
of  Charles  VI.  of  France,  the  crowd  was  so  great 
to  welcome  the  young  queen,  that  at  London 
Bridge  nine  persons  were  crushed  to  death  in  the 
crowd.  The  rfeign  of  Richard  II.  Avas  indeed  a 
memorable  one  for  London  Bridge. 

The  year  Richard  II.  was  deposed,  Henry  of 
Lancaster  laid  rough  hands  on  four  knights  who 
had  three  years  before  smothered  the  old  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  by  the  Mng  his  nephew's  commands. 
The  murderers  wereVdragged  to  Cheapside,  and 
there  had  their  hands  lopped  off  at  a  fishmonger's 
stall.  The  heads  were!  then  spiked  over  the  gate  of 
London  Bridge,  and  tpe  bodies  strung  together  on 
a  gibbet.  Nor  did  these  heads  long  remain  unac- 
companied, for  in  1^07-8  Henry  Percy,  Earl  of 
Northumberland,  wa^  beheaded,  while  Lord  Bar- 
dolf,  one  of  his '  ad^ierents  who  had  joined  in  a 
northern  insurrectioli,  was  quartered,  and  the  earl's 
head  and  a  flitch  of  unfortunate  Bardolf  were  set 
up  on  London  Bridge. 

There  was  a  great  rejoicing  on  London  Bridge 
when  Henry  V.  returned  with  his  long  train  of 
French  captives  from  the  red  field  of  Agincourt,  in 
November,  1415.  The  Mayor  of  London,  with  all 
the  aldermen  and  crafts,  in  scarlet  gowns  a.nd  red 
and  white  hoods,  welcomed  him  back  to  his  capital ; 
and  on  the  gate-tower  stood  a  male  and  a  female 
giant,  the  former  having  the  keys  of  the  City 
hanging  from  a  staff,  while  trumpeters  with  horns 
and  clarions  sounded  welcome  to  the  conqueror  of 
the  French.  In  front  of  the  gate  was  written, 
"  The  King's  City  of  Justice."  On  a  column  on 
one  side  was  ,  an  antelope,  with  a  shield  of  the 
royal  arms  hanging  round  his  neck,  and  holding  a 
sceptre,  which  he  offered  to  the  king,  in  his  right 
foot.  On  the  Opposite  column  stood  a  lion  rampant, 
with  the  king's  banner  in  his  dexter  claw.  At  the 
foot  of  the  bridge  rose  a  painted  tower,  with  an 
effigy  of  St.  George  in  complete  armour  in  the 
midst,  under  a  tabernacle.  The  saint's  head  was 
crowned  with  laurel  interwoven  with  gems,  and 
behind  him  spread  a  tapestry  emblazoned  with 
escutcheons.  The  turrets,  embossed  with  the  royal 
arms,  were  plumed  with  banners.  Across  the  tower 
ran  two  scrolls,  with  the  mottoes,  "To  God  only 
be  honour  and  glory,"  and  "  The  streams  of  the 
river  make  glad  the  city  of  God,"    In  the  house 


12 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[London  Bridge. 


adjoining  stood  bright-faced  children  singing  wel- 
come to  the  king,  accompanied  by  the  melody  of 
organs.  The  hero  of  Agincourt  rode  conspicuous 
above  all  on  a  courser  trapped  with  parti-colours, 
one-half  jjjue  velvet  embroidered  with  antelopes  (the 
arms  of  the  De  Bohun  family)  having  large  flowers 
springing  between  their  horns.  These  trappings 
were  afterwards  utilised  as  copes  for  Westminster 
Abbey. 

Lydgate,   that    Suffolk    monk    who    succeeded 


Seven  years  after  this  rejoicing  day,  the  corpse 
of  the  young  hero  (only  thirty-four)  was  borne  over 
the  bridge  on  its  way  from  Viucennes  to  West- 
minster Abbey.  On  a  bier  covered  with  red  silk 
and  beaten  gold  lay  a  painted  effigy  of  the  king, 
robed  and  crowned,  and  holding  sceptre,  ball, 
and  cross.  Six  richly-harnessed  horses  drew  the 
chariot,  the  hangings  blazoned  with  the  arms  of 
St.  George,  Normandy,  King  Arthur,  St.  Edward 
the  Confessor,  France,  and  France  and  England 


REMAINS  OF  THE  CHAPEL  OF  ST.  THOMAS,  OLD  LONDON  BRIDGE  (fage  lo).      From  a  View  taken  during  its  demolition. 


Chaucer,  in  the  bead-roll  of  Enghsh  poets,  wrote  a 
poem  on  this  day's  celebrations.  "  Hail,  London  !" 
he  makes  the  king  exclaim  at  the  first  sight  of  the 
red  roofs;  "Christ  you  keep  from  every  care." 
The  last  verse  of  the  quaint  poem  runs  thus  ; — 

"And  at  the  drawbridge  that  is  fast  by 
Two  towers  there  were  up  pight ; 
An  antelope  and  a  lion  standing  hym  by, 
Above  them  Saint  George  our  lady's  knight, 
Beside  him  many  an  angel  brighf ; 
'  Benedictus,'  they  gan  sing, 
'  Qui  venit  in  nomine  Domini,  Godde's  knight. 
Gracia  Dei  with  you  doth  spring.' 
Wot  we  right  well  that  thus  it  was — ■ 

Gloria  tibi  Trinitas. "  i^ 


quarterly.  A  costly  canopy  was  held  over  the 
royal  bier;  and  ten  bishops,  in  their  pontificals, 
with  mitred  abbots,  priests,  and  innumerable 
citizens,  met  the  corpse  and  received  it  with 
due  honour,  the  priests  singing  a  dirge.  Three 
hundred  torch-bearers,  habited  in  white,  sur- 
rounded the  bier.  "  After  them  came  5,000 
mounted  men-at-arms,  in  black  armour,  holding 
their  spears  reversed  ;  and* nobles  followed,  bearing 
pennons,  banners,  and  bannerolls ;  while  twelve 
captains  preceded,  carrying  the  king's  heraldic 
achievement.  After  the  body  came  all  the  servants 
of  the  household,  in  black,  James  I.  of  Scotland 
as  chief  mourner,  with  the  princes  and  lords  of  the 


London  Bridge.  ] 


"SHOOTING"   OLD   LONDON   BRIDGE. 


13 


royal  blood  clad  in  sable ;  while  at  the  distance  of 
two  miles  followed  Queen  Katherine  and  her  long 
train  of  ladies. 

Readers  of  Shakespeare  will  remember,  in  the 
first  part  of  Henry  VI.,  how  he  makes  the  serving- 
men  of  the  Protector  Gloucester  wrangle  with  the 
retainers  of  Cardinal  Beaufort,  till  tawny  coat  beats 
blue,  and  blue  pommels  tawny.  Brawls  like  this 
took  place  twice  on  London  Bridge,  and  the  proud 
and  ambitious  cardinal  on  one  occasion  assembled 


a  weaver  of  Abingdon,  who  had  threatened  to 
make  priests'  heads  "  as  plentiful  as  sheep's  heads," 
was  spiked  upon  the  battlements.  The  very  next 
year  the  child-king,  Henry  VI.,  who  had  been 
crowned  at  Notre  Dame  in  1431,' entered  London 
over  this  bridge.  Lydgate,  like  a  true  laureate, 
careless  who  or  what  the  new  king  might  be, 
nibbed  his  ready  pen,  and  was  at  it  again  with 
ready  verse.  At  the  drawbridge  there  was  a 
tower,  he   says,  hung  with   sUk  and   arras,  from 


LONDON  BRIDGE.     (From  a  Print  dated  l^<)6.) 


his  archers  at  his  Bankside  palace,  and  attempted 
to  storm  the  bridge. 

The  dangers  of  "  shooting  "  London  Bridge  were 
exemplified  as  early  as  1428  (in  the  same  reign — 
Henry  VI.).  "  The  barge  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
starting  from  St.  Mary  Overie's,  with  many  a  gentle- 
man, squire,  and  yeoman,  about  half-past  four  of 
the  clock  on  a  November  afternoon,  struck  (through 
bad  steering)  on  a  starling  of  London  Bridge,  and 
sank."  The  duke  and  two  or  three  other  gentlemen 
fortunately  leaped  on  the  piles,  and  so  were  saved 
by  ropes  cast  down  from  the  parapet  above ;  the 
rest  perished. 

Several  Lollards'  heads  had  already  adorned  the 
bridge  ;  and  in  1431  the  skull  of  a  rough  reformer, 
50— Vol.  II. 


which  issued  three  empresses — Nature,  Grace, 
and  Fortune. 

"And  at  his  coming,  of  excellent  beauty. 
Benign  of  part,  most  womanly  of  cheer, 
There  issued  out  empresses  three. 
Their  hair  displayed,  as  Phoebus  in  his  sphere, 
With  crownets  of  gold  and  stones  clear. 
At  whose  outcoming  they  gave  such  a  light 
That  the  beholders  were  stonied  in  their  sight." 

With  these  empresses  came  fourteen  maidens,  all 
clad  in  white,  who  presented  the  king  with  gifts, 
and  sang  a  roundel  of  welcome. 

If  Old  London  Bridge  had  a  fault,  it  was,  perhaps, 
its  habit  of  occasionally  partly  falling  down.  This 
it  did  as  earlv  as  1437,  when  the  great  stone  gate 


14 


OLD    AND    NEW    LONDON. 


[London  Bridge. 


and  tower  on  the  South wark  end,  with  two  arches, 
subsided  into  the  Thames. 

There  was  another  gala  day  for  the  bridge  in 
144s,  when  the  proud  and  impetuous  WilUam  de 
la  Pole  (afterwards  Duke  of  Suffolk)  brought  over 
Margaret,  daughter  of  Ren^  (that  weak,  poetical 
monarch,  immortalised  in  "Anne  of  Geierstein"), 
as  a  bride  for  the  young  King  of  England,  and  the 
City  welcomed  her  on  their  river  threshold.  The 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  had  opposed  the  match, 
preceded  her,  with  500  men  clad  in  his  ducal 
livery,  and  with  gilt  badges  on  their  arms  ;  and  the 
mayor  and  aldermen  rode  on  in  scarlet,  followed 
by  the  City  companies  in  blue  gowns  and  red 
hoods.  Again  Lydgate  tuned  liis  ready  harp,  and 
prodHced  some  certainly  most  unprophetic  verses, 
in  which  he  called  the  savage  Margaret — 

"  The  dove  fhat  brought  the  branch  of  peace, 
Resembling  your  simpleness,  Cohimbyne." 

In  1450,  and  the  very  month  after  Margaret's 
favourite,  De  la  Pole,  had  been  seized  in  Dover 
Roads,  and  his  head  brutally  chopped  off  on.  the 
side  of  a  boat,  the  great  insurrection  under  Jack 
Cade  broke  out  in  Kent.  After  routing  a  detach- 
ment of  the  royal  troops  at  Sevenoaks,  Cade 
marched  towards  London,  and  the  commons  of 
Essex  mustering  threateningly  at  Mile  End,  the 
City,  after  some  debate,  admitted  Cade  over 
London  Bridge.  As  the  rebel  passed  over  the 
echoing  drawbridge,  he  slashed  in  two  the  ropes 
that  supported  it.  Three  days^after,  the  citizens, 
irritated  at  his  robberies,  barred  up  the  bridge  at 
night,  and  penned  him  close  in  his  head-quasters 
at  Southwark,  The  rebels  then  flew  to  arms,  and 
tried  to  force  a  passage,  eventually  winning  the 
drawbridge,  and  burning  many  of  the  houses  which 
stood  in  close  rows  near  it.  Now  the  battle  raged 
by  St.  Magnus's  comer,  now  at  the  bridge-foot, 
Southwark  side,  and  all  the  while  the  Tower  guns 
thundered  at  the  swarming,  maddened  men  of  Kent. 
At  nine  the  next  morning  both  sides,  faint  and 
wear)',  retired  to  their  respective  quarters.  Soon 
afterwards  Cade's  army  melted  away;  Cade,  him- 
self a  fugitive,  was  slain  in  a  Kentish  garden  where 
he  had  hid  himself;  and  his  grim,  defaced  head 
was  placed  on  the  very  bridge-gate  on  which  he 
had  himself  but  recently,  in  scorn  and  triumph, 
placed  the  ghastly  head  of  Lord  Say,  the  murdered 
Treasurer  of  England.  Round  Cade's  head,  when 
the  king  re-entered  London,  were  placed  the  heads 
of  nine  of  his  captains. 

At  the  entry  of  Edward  IV.  into  London,  in 
1 46 1,  before  his  coronation,  he  passed  over 
London  Bridge,  escorted  by  the  mayor  and  his 


'  well 


fellows,   in    scarlet,   and  400   commoners, 
horsed  and  clad  in  green." 

In  147 1,  when  Henry  was  a  prisoner  in  the 
Tower,  the  Bastard  of  Falconbridge,  one  of  the 
deposed  king's  piratical  partisans,  made  a  dash 
to  plunder  London.  While  3,000  of  his  men 
attacked  Aldgate  and  Bishopsgate,  the  rest  set  fire 
to  London  Bridge,  and  burnt  thirteen  houses.  But 
the  citizens,  led  by  Ralph  Jocelyn,  a  brave  Draper, 
made  a  gallant  defence,  drove  off  the  filibusters, 
and  chased  them  to  Blackwall. 

In  1 48 1  another  house  on  the  bridge  fell  down, 
drowning  five  of  its  inhabitants. 

The  reign  of  Henry  VII.  brought  more  terrible 
trophies  to  London  Bridge ;  for  in  1496  Flamock, 
a  lawyer,  and  Joseph,  a  farrier  of  Bodmin,  leaders 
of  a  great  Cornish  insurrection,  contributed  their 
heads  to  this  decorative  object.  But  Henry  VII. 
was  not  half  such  a  mower  off  of  heads  as  that 
enormous  Turk  his  son.  Henry  VIII. ,  what  with 
the  wives  he  grew  tired  of,  and  what  with  the  dis- 
believers in  his  ecclesiastical  supremacy,  kept  the 
headsman's  axe  very  fairly  busy.  First  came  the 
prior  and  several  unfortunate  Charter  House  monks, 
and  then  the  good  old  Bishop  of  Rochester, 
John  Fisher.  The  parboiled  head  of  the  good  old 
man  who  would  not  bow  the  knee  to  Rimmon 
was  kept,  that  Queen  Anne  Boleyn  might  enjoy  the 
grateful  sight.  The  face  for  a  fortnight  remained 
so  ruddy  and  hfe-like,  and  such  crowds  collected 
to  see  the  so-called  miracle,  that  the  king,  in  a 
rage,  at  last  ordered  the  head  to  be  thrown  down 
into  the  river.  The  next  month  came  the  head 
of  a  far  greater  and  wiser  man.  Sir  Thomas  More. 
This  sacred  relic  More's  daughter,  Margaret  Roper, 
bribed  a  man  to  remove,  and  drop  into  a  boat  in 
which  she  sat ;  and  the  head  was,  long  after,  buried 
with  her,  under  a  chapel  adjoining  St.  Dunstan's, 
Canterbury. 

In  Queen  Mary's  reign  there  was  again  fighting 
on  London  Bridge.  In  the  year  1554,  when  rash 
Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  led  his  4,000  Kentish  men  to 
London,  to  stop  the  impending  Spanish  marriage, 
the  rebel  found  the  drawbridge  cut  away,  the  gates 
of  London  Bridge  barred,  and  guns  planted  ready 
to  receive  him.  Wyatt  and  his  men  dug  a  trench 
at  the  bridge-foot,  and  laid  two  guns.  The  night 
before  Wyatt  retreated  to  Kingston,  to  cross  the 
Thames  there,  seven  of  his  arquebusiers  fired  at  a 
boat  from  the  Tower,  and  killed  a  waterman  on 
board.  The  next  morning,  the  Lieutenant  of  the 
Tower  turning  seven  cannon  on  the  steeples  of 
St.  Olave's  and  St.  Mary  Overie's,  the  people  of 
Southwark  begged  Wyatt  to  withdraw,  which  he 
generously  did. 


London  Bridge.! 


RESIDENTS  ON  LONDON  BRIDGE. 


rS 


In  Elizabeth's  reign  the  bridge  was  restored  with 
great  splendour.  The  City  built  a  new  gate  and 
tower,  three  storeys  high,  at  the  Southwark  end — 
a  huge  pile,  full  of  square  Tudor  windows,  with  a 
covered  way  below.  About  the  same  time  was 
also  reared  that  wonder  of  London,  Nonsuch 
House — a  huge  wooden  pile,  four  storeys  high,  with 
cupolas  and  turrets  at  each  corner,  brought  from 
Holland,  and  erected  with  wooden  pegs  instead  of 
nails.  It  stood  over  the  seventh  and  eighth  arches, 
on  the  north  side  of  the  drawbridge.  There  were 
carved  wooden  galleries  outside  the  long  lines  of 
transom-casements,  and  the  panels  between  were 
richly  carved  and  gilt.  In  the  same  reign,  Peter 
Moris,  a  Dutchman,  established  water-works  at  the 
north  end  of  London  Bridge;  and,  long  before  this, 
corn-mills  had  been  erected  at  the  south  end  of 
the  same  overtaxed  structure.  The  ghastly  custom 
of  displaying  the  heads  of  the  victims  of  the  scaffold 
continued  for  many  years  after,  both  here  and  at 
the  Tower.  In  the  next  reign,  after  the  discovery 
of  the  Gunpowder  Plot,  the  head  of  Father  Garnet 
(the  account  of  whose  execution  in  St.  Paul's 
Churchyard  we  gave  in  a  previous  chapter)  was 
added  to  the  horrible  collection  on  the  bridge. 

In  1632  forty-two  houses  on  the  north  side  of 
the  bridge  were  destroyed  by  a  fire,  occasioned  by 
a  careless  servant  setting  a  tub  of  hot  ashes  under 
a  staircase;  and  the  Great  Fire  of  1666  laid  low 
several  houses  on  the  same  side  of  the  bridge. 

There  are  several  old  proverbs  about  London 
Bridge  still  extant.  Two  of  these — "If  London 
Bridge  had  fewer  eyes  it  would  see  better,"  and 
"London  Bridge  was  made  for  wise  men  to  go 
over  and  fools  to  go  under  " — ^point  to  the  danger 
of  the  old  passage  past  the  starlings. 

The  old  bridge  had  by  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century  become  perilously  ruinous. 
Pennant  speaks  of  remembering  the  street  as  dark, 
narrow,  and  dangerous;  the  houses  overhung  the 
road  in  such  a  terrific  manner  as  almost  to  shut  out 
the  daylight,  and  arches  of  timber  crossed  the  street 
to  keep  the  shaky  old  tenements  from  falling  on  each 
other.  Indeed,  Providence  alone  kept  together 
the  long-topphng,  dilapidated  structure,  that  was 
perilous  above  and  dangerous  below.  "Nothing 
but  use,''  says  that  agreeable  and  vivacious  writer. 
Pennant,  "  could  preserve  the  repose  of  the  inmates, 
who  soon  grew  deaf  to  the  noise  of  the  falling 
waters,  the  clamour  of  watermen,  and  the  frequent 
shrieks  of  drowning  wretches."  Though  many 
booksellers  and  other  tradesmen  affected  the  great 
thoroughfare  between  Kent,  Surrey,  and  Middlesex, 
the  bridge  houses  were,  in  the  reign  of  George  II., 
chiefly  tenanted  by  pin  and  needld  makers;  and 


economical  ladies  were  accustomed  to  drive  there 
from  the  west  end  of  the  town  to  make  cheap 
purchases. 

Although  the  roadway  had  been  widened  in  the 
reigns  of  James  II.  and  William,  the  double  lines  of 
rickety  houses  were  not  removed  till  1757-60 
(George  II.).  During  their  removal  three  pots  of 
Elizabethan  money  were  dug  up  among  the 
ruins. 

In  r758,  a  temporary  wooden  bridge,  built  over 
the  Thames  while  repairs  of  the  old  bridge  were 
going  on,  was  destroyed  by  fire,  it  was  supposed  by 
some  footman  in  passing  dropping  his  link  among 
the  woodwork.      Messrs.  Taylor  and  Dance,  the 
repairers,  chopped  the  old  bridge  in  two,  and  built 
a  new  centre  arch;  but  the  join  became  so  insecure 
that   few  persons    would   venture   over   it.      The 
celebrated  Smeaton  was  called  in,  in  i76r,  and  he 
advised  the  Corporation  to  buy  back  the  stone  oi 
the  old  City  gates,  pulled  down  and  sold  the  year 
before,  to  at  once  strengthen  the  shaky  starlings. 
This  was  done,  but  proved  a  mere  makeshift,  and 
in  1768  the  stariings  again  became  loose,  and  an 
incessant  wail  of  fresh  complaints  arose.     The  re- 
pairs were  calculated  at  ;^2,5oo  yearly;  and  it  was 
rather  unfeelingly  computed  that  fifty  watermen, 
bargemen,  or  seamen,  valued   at  ;^2o,ooo,  were 
annually  drowned  in  passing  the  dangerous  bridge. 
In  1823,  the  City,  in  sheer  desperation,  resolved  on 
a  new  bridge,  100  feet  westward  of  the  old,  and  in 
1824  Mr.  Rennie  began  the  work  by  removing  182 
houses.     The  earlier  bridges  had  been  eastward, 
and  facing  St.  Botolph's.     During  the  excavations 
coins  were  discovered  of  Augustus,  Vespasian,  and 
later  Roman  e.mperors,  besides  many  Nuremberg 
and  tradesmen's  tokens.     There  were  also  dredged 
up  brass  rings,  buckles,  iron  keys,  silver  spoons,  a 
gilt  dagger,  an  iron  spear-head,  some  carved  stones, 
a  bronze  lamp,  with  a  head  of  Bacchus,  and  a 
silver  effigy  of  Harpocrates,  the  god  of  silence. 
This  figure  having  attached  to  it  a  large  gold  ring, 
and  a  chain  of  pure  gold,  is  supposed  to  have  been 
a  priest's  amulet,  to  be  worn  at  religious  ceremonies. 
The  bridge  cost  ;^5o6,ooo.    The  first  stone  was 
laid  in  June,  1825,  by  the  Right  Honourable  John 
Garratt,   Lord   Mayor,  the  Duke  of  York   being 
present. 

Among  the  celebrated  persons  who  have  resided 
on  London  Bridge  there  may  be  mentioned,  among 
the  most  eminent,  Hans  Holbein,  the  great  painter 
of  Henry  VIII.'s  court ;  Peter  Monamy,  the  marine 
painter,  apprenticed  to  a  sign-painter  on  the  bridge 
— he  died  in  1749;  Jack  Laguerre,  the  humorist, 
singer,  player,  and  scene-painter,  son  of  the 
Laguerre  satirised  by  Pope;  and  Crispin  Tuckef, 


i'6 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[London  Bridge. 


a  waggish  bookseller  and  author,  who  was  intimate 
with  Pope  and  Swift,  and  who  lived  uiider  the 
southern  gate,  in  a  rickety  bow-windowed  shop, 
where  Hogarth,  when  young,  and  engraving  for  old 
John  Bowles,  of  the  Black  Horse,  Cornhill,  had  once 
resided.  This  Bowles  was  the  generous  man  who 
used  to  buy  Hogarth's  plates  by  weight,  and  who 
once  offered  an  artist,  who  was  going  abroad  on  a 
sketching  tour,  clean  sheets  of  copper  for  all  the 
engravings  he  chose  to  send  over. 

The  second  edition  of  that  curious  anecdotic  old 
book,  "  Cocker's  Dictionary,"  the  compilation  of  the 
celebrated  penman  and  arithmetician,  whose  name 
has  grown  into  a  proverb,  was  "printed  for  T. 
Norris,  at  the  Looking-Glass  on  London  Bridge ; 
C.  Brown,  at  the  Crown  in  Newgate  Street;  and 

A.    Bettes worth,    at  

the    Red    Lyon    in 
Pater-noster-row. 

1715." 
One  anecdote   of 

the  old  bridge  must 

not     be     forgotten. 

Mr.  Baldwin,  haber- 
dasher, living  in  the 

house     over     the 

chapel,  was  ordered, 

when  an  old  man  of 

seventy-one,    to    go 

to    Chislehurst    for 

change  of  air.     But 

the  invalid  found  he 

could  not   sleep  in 

the  country  for  want 

of   the   accustomed 

sound   of   the    roar 

and  rush  of  the  tide  under  the  old  ruinous  arches. 

In  1798  the  chapel  was  a  paper  warehouse.    Within 

legal  memory,  says  the  Morning  Advertiser  of  that 
date,  "service  has  been  performed  there  every 
Sabbath  and  saint's-day." 

The  EngHsh  Jews  still  have  a  very  curious 
tradition  which  associates  London  Bridge  with  the 
story  of  the  expulsion  from  England  of  their  per- 
secuted forefathers  in  the  reign  of  Edward  I. 
Though  few  Jews  have  probably  ever  read  Holin- 
shed,  the  legend  is  there  to  be  found,  and  runs 
thus  :— "A  sort  of  the  richest  of  them,"  says  Holin- 
shed,  "being  shipped  with  their  treasure  in  a 
mighty  tall  ship,  which  they  had  hired,  when  the 
same  was  under  sail  and  got  down  the  Thames, 
towards  the  mouth  of  the  river,  near  Queenborough, 
the  master-mariner  bethought  him  of  a  wile,  and 
caused  his  men  to  cast  anchor,  and  so  rode  at 
the  same,  till  the  ship,  by  ebbing  of  the  stream, 


HEADS  ON  OLD  LONDON  BRIDGE. 


remained  on  the  dry  sands.  The  master  herewith 
enticed  the  Jews  to  walk  out  with  him  on  land  for 
recreation ;  and  at  length,  when  he  understood  the 
tide  to  be  coming  in,  he  got  him  back  to  the  ship, 
whither  he  was  drawn  up  by  a  cord. 

"  The  Jews  made  not  so  much  haste  as  he  did, 
because  they  were  not  aware  of  the  danger;  but 
when  they  perceived  how  the  matter  stood,  they 
cried  to  him  for  help ;  howbeit  he  told  them  that 
they  ought  to  cry  rather  unto  Moses,  by  whose 
conduct  their  fathers  passed  through  the  Red  Sea, 
and  therefore,  if  they  would  call  to  him  for  help, 
he  was  able  enough  to  help  them  out  of  those 
raging  floods,  which  now  came  in  upon  them. 
They  cried,  indeed,  but  no  succour  appeared,  and 
so   they  were   swallowed   up   in  the  water.     The 

master  returned  with 
the  ship,  and  told 
the  king  how  he  had 
used  the  matter,  and 
had  both  thanks  and 
reward,  as  some 
have  written ;  but 
others  affirm  (and 
more  truly,  as  should 
seem)  that  divers  of 
those  mariners, which 
dealt  so  wickedly 
against  the  Jews, 
were  hanged  for 
their  wicked  prac- 
tice, and  so  received 
a  just  reward  of 
their  fraudulent  and 
mischievous  deal- 
ing.'" 


That  this  story  of  Holinshed  is  true  there  seems 
little  doubt,  as  the  modern  English  Jews  have  pre- 
served it  by  tradition,  but  with  an  altered  locality. 
Mr.  Margoliouth,  an  Anglo-Jewish  writer,  says : — 
"  The  spot  in  the  river  Thames,  where  many  of  the 
poor  exiles  were  drowned  by  the  perfidy  of  a  master- 
mariner,  is  under  the  influence  of  ceaseless  rage ; 
and  however  calm  and  serene  the  river  is  elsewhere, 
that  place  is  furiously  boisterous.  It  is,  moreover, 
aflSrmed  that  this  relentless  agitation  is  situated 
under  London  Bridge.  There  are,  even  at  the 
present  day,  some  old-fashioned  Hebrew  families 
who  implicitly  credit  the  outrageous  fury  of  the 
Thames.  A  small  boat  is  now  and  then  observed 
by  a  Hebrew  observer,  filled  with  young  and  old 
credulous  Jews,  steering  towards  the  supposed  .spot, 
in  order  to  see  and  hear  the  noisy  sympathy  of  the 
waters.  There  are  many  traditions  on  the  subject " 
An  average  day   of  four-and-twenty  hours  will 


tJpper  Thames  Street.] 


THAMES  STREET   MANSIONS. 


i!r 


witness  (it  was  computed  some  years  ago)  more 
than  168,000  persons  passing  across  the  bridge 
from  either  side — 107,000  on  foot,  and  61,000 
in  vehicles.  These  vehicles,  during  the  same 
average  day  of  twenty-four  hours,  number  20,498, 
including  fifty-four  horses  that  are  led  or  ridden. 
Every  day  since  then  has  increased  the  vast 


and  tumultuous  procession  of  human  beings  that 
momentarily  pass  in  and  out  of  London.  In  what 
congestion  of  all  traffic  this  will  end,  or  how  soon 
that  congestion  will  come  to  pass,  it  is  quite  impos- 
sible to  say ;  while  by  what  efforts  of  engineering 
genius  London  will  eventually  be  rendered  travers- 
ablCj  we  are  equally  ignorant. 


CHAPTER  III. 
UPPER    THAMES    STREET. 

NQbleraen's  Mansions  in  Thames  Street — Clarence's  House — Queen's  Pin  Money — The  old  Legend  of  Queen  Eleanor — The  "Three  Cranes"  in 
the  Vintry — Cromwell's  Widow — Chaucer's  Patron — Vintners'  Hall — Old  Wines — Wine  Patentees — The  Vintners'  Swans — The  Duke  of 
Buckingham's  House  on  College  Hill — Dryden's  Zimri — George  Villiers— The  Mercers'  School,  College  Hill — St.  Michael's  Oiuroh— 
Cleveland  tiie  Poet. 


Among  the  great  mansions  and  noblemen's  palaces 
that  once  abounded  in  this  narrow  river-side  street, 
we  must  first  of  all  touch  at  Cold  Harbour,  the 
residence  of  many  great  merchants  and  princes  of 
old  time.  It  is  first  mentioned,  as  Stow  tells  us, 
in  the  13th  of  Edward  II.,  when  Sir  John  Abel, 
Knight,  let  it  to  Henry  Stow,  a  draper.  It  was 
then  called  Cold  Harbrough,  in  tiie  parish  of  All 
Saints  ad  Foenum  (All  Hallows  in  the  Hay),  so 
named  from  an  adjoining  hay-wharf.  Bequeathed 
to  the  Bigots,  it  was  sold  by  them,  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  III.,  to  the  well-known  London  merchant. 
Sir  John  Poultney,  Draper,  four  times  Mayor  of 
London,  and  was  then  called  Poultney's  Inn.  Sir 
John  gave  or  let  it  to  Humphrey  de  Bohun,  Earl 
of  Hereford  and  Essex,  for  one  rose  at  Midsummer, 
to  be  given  to  him  and  his  heirs  for  all  services. 
In  1397  Richard  II.  dined  there,  with  his  half- 
brother  John  Holland,  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  who 
then  lodged  in  Poultney's  Inn,  still  accounted,  as 
Stow  says,  "  a  right  fair  and  stately  house."  The 
next  year,  Edmund,  Earl  of  Cambridge,  lodged 
in  it.  It  still  retained  its  old  name  in  141  o,  when 
Henry  IV.  granted  the  house  to  Prince  Hal  for  the 
term  of  his  life,  starting  the  young  reveller  fairly  by 
giving  him  a  generous  order  on  the  collector  of  the 
customs  for  twenty  casks  and  one  pipe  of  red 
Gascony  wine,  free  of  duty.  In  1473  the  river-side 
mansion  belonged  to  Henry  Holland,  Duke  of 
Exeter.  This  duke  was  the  unfortunate  Lancastrian 
(gi'eat-grandson  of  John  of  Ghent)  who,  being 
severely  wounded  in  the  battle  of  Bamet,  tvas  con- 
veyed by  one  of  his  faithful  servants  to  the  Sanc- 
tuary at  Westminster.  He  remained  in  the  custody 
of  Edward  IV.,  with  the  weekly  dole  of  half  a 
mark.  The  duke  hoped  to  have  obtained  a  pardon 
fi'om  the  York  party  through  the  influence  of  his 
wife,  Ann,  who  was  the  king's  eldest  sister.     But 


flight  and  suffering  had  made  both  factions  re- 
morseless. This  faithless  wife  obtaining  a  divorce, 
married  Sir  Thomas  St.  Leger ;  and  not  long  after, 
the  duke's  dead  body  was  found  floating  in  the 
sea  between  Dover  and  Calais.  He  had  either 
been  murdered  or  drowned  in  trying  to  escape 
from  .  England.  Thus  the  Duke  of  Exeter's  Inn 
suffered  from  the  victory  of  Edward,  as  his  neigh- 
bour's, the  great  Earl  of  Worcester,  had  paid  the 
penalties  of  Henry's  temporary  restoration  in  1470. 
Richard  III.,  grateful -to  the  Heralds  for  standing 
up  for  his  strong-handed  usurpation,  gave  Cold 
Harbour  to  the  Heralds,  who,  however,  were  after- 
wards turned  out  by  Cuthbert  Tunstal,  Bishop  of 
Durham,  whom  Henry  VIII.  had  forced  out  of 
Durham  House  in  the  Strand.  In  the  reign  of 
Edward  VI.,  just  before  the  death  of  that  boy  of 
promise,  the  ambitious  Earl  of  Northumberland, 
wishing  to  win  the  chief  nobles  to  his  side,  gave 
Cold  Harbour  to  Francis,  the  fifth  Earl  of  Shrews- 
bury, and  its  name  was  then  changed  to  Shrewsbury 
House  (1553),  six  days  before  the  young  king's 
death.  The  next  earl  (guardian  for  fifteen  years  of 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots)  took  the  house  down,  and 
built  in  its  place  a  number  of  small  tenements,  and 
it  then  became  the  haunt  of  poverty,  as  we  see  by 
the  following  extracts  from  old  writers  : — 

"  Or  thence  thy  starved  brother  live  and  die, 
Within  the  Cold  Coal-harbour  sanctuary." 

BUhop  HalVs  "Satires"  b.  v.,  a.  l. 

"  Morose.  Your  knighthood  itself  shall  come  on  its  knees, 
and  it  shall  be  rejected  ;  .  .  .  or  it  (knighthood)  shall 
do  worse — take  sanctuary  in  Cole-Harbour,  and  fast."^ — Ben 
Jonson,  "  T/ie  Silent  Woman,"  act  ii.,  sc.  I. 

"  Old  Harding.  And  though  the  beggar's  brat — his  wife,  I 
mean — 
Should,  for  the  want  of  lodging,  sleep  on  stalls, 
Or  lodge  in  stocks  or  cages,  would  your  charities 
Take  her  to  better  harbour? 


tS 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


tttpper  Thames  Strecl. 


''John.  Unless  to  Cold  Harbour,  where,  of  twenty  chim- 
neys standing,  you  shall  scarce,  in  a  whole  winter,  see  two 
smoking.  We  harbour  her  ?  Bridewell  shall  first." — Hey- 
■wood and  Rowley,  "Fortune  by  Land  and  Sea,''''  4to,  1655. 

On  the  east  side  of  Dowgate,  near  the  church  of 
St.  Mary  Bothaw,  fonrerly  stood  a  celebrated  old 
house  frequently  mentioned  by  Stow  and  the  old 
chroniclers,  and  called,  we  know  not  why,  the 
Erber.  Edward  III.  is  known  to  have  given  it  to 
one  of  the  Scropes.  The  last  Scrope,  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  IV.,  gave  it  to  his  brother,  Ralph  Neville, 
'Earl  of  Westmoreland,  who  married  Joan,  daughter 
of  the  Duke  of  Lancaster.     This  earl  was  the  son 


Clarence  obtained,  after  the  battle  of  Barnet,  a 
grant  of  the  house  in  right  of  his  wife,  Isabel, 
daughter  of  Warwick.  After  Clarence's  murder 
in  the  Tower,  his  younger  brother,  Richard  of 
Gloucester — the  Crookback  and  monster  usurper  of 
Shakespeare — occupied  the  Thames  Street  house, 
repaired  it,  and  called  it  "  the  King's  Palace." 
Ralph  Darnel,  a  yeoman  of  the  Crown,  kept  the 
building  for  King  Richard  till  that  hot  day  at 
Bosworth  Field  rendered  such  matters  indifferent 
to  him;  and  Henry  VII.  then  gave  it  back  to 
Edward,  son  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  who  kept  it 
till  his  attainder  in  1500.     It  was  rebuilt  in  1584 


NONSUCH  HOUSE.     (^See page  l'-,.) 


of  John,  Lord  Neville  of  Raby,  the  knightly  com- 
panion of  Edward  III.,  and  who  had  shared  with  his 
chivalrous  monarch  the  glory  won  in  France.  From 
the  earl  it  descended  to  the  king-making  Earl  of 
Warwick,  that  great  warrior,  who  looms  like  a 
giant  through  the  red  battle-fields  of  the  Wars  of 
the  Roses,  who  lodged  his  father,  the  Earl  of 
Salisbury,  and  500  men  here  in  the  congress  of 
1458,  when  there  was  a  pretended  reconciliation  of 
the  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster,  to  be  followed 
in  two  years  by  the  battle  of  Northampton  and  the 
deposition  of  the  weak  king.  The  great  earl  him- 
self lived  in  Warwick  Lane,  Newgate  Street.  After 
the  death  of  this  maker  and  unmaker  of  kings, 
the  house  passed  to  the  "false,  fleeting,  perjured 
Clarence,''  who  had  fought  on  both  sides,  and, 
luckily  for  himself,  at  last  on  the  victorious  side. 


by  Sir  Thomas  Pullison  (a  Draper,  ancestor  of  the 
Stanleys),  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  and  was  after- 
wards honoured  by  being  the  residence  of  that  great 
sea-king,  Sir  Francis  Drake,  who  must  have  found 
it  convenient  for  dropping  down  to  Greenwich. 

Mr.  Jesse,  in  writing  of  the  Neville  family,  dwells 
with  much  pathos  on  the  fate  of  the  family  that 
once  held  the  Erber.  "When  the  granddaughter 
of  John  of  Gaunt,"  he  says,  "  sat  in  her  domestic 
circle,  watching  complacently  the  childish  sports 
and  listening  to  the  joyous  laughter  of  her  young 
progeny,  how  little  could  she  have  anticipated  the 
strange  fate  which  awaited  them !  Her  husband 
perished  on  the  bloody  field  of  Wakefield;  her 
first-bom,  afterwards  Edward  IV.,  followed  in  the 
ambitious  footsteps  of  his  father,  and  waded  through 
bloodshed  to  a  throne ;  her  second  son,  Edmund 


Upper  Thames  Street.] 


THE  QUEEN'S  PIN   MONEY. 


i9 


Earl  of  Rutland,  perished  at  the  battle  of  Wakefield; 
her  third  son,  'false,  fleeting,  perjured  Clarence,' 
died  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Tower;  and  her 
youngest  son,  Richard,  succeeded  to  a  throne  and 
a  bloody  death.  The  career  of  her  daughters  was 
also  remarkable.  Ann,  her  eldest  daughter,  married 
Henry  Holland,  Duke  of  Exeter,  whose  splendid 
fortunes  and  mysterious  fate  are  so  well  known. 
Elizabeth,  the  second  daughter,  became  the  wife  of 
John  de  la  Pole,  Duke  of  Suffolk,  and  lived  to  see 


Holy  Trinity  within  Aldgate.  King  Jolin  is  said 
to  have  given  it  to  his  mother,  Eleanor,  queen  of 
Henry  II.  If  two  vessels  came  up  the  river  to- 
gether, one  had  to  discharge  at  Billingsgate  and' 
one  at  Queenhithe ;  if  three,  two  went  to  Queen- 
hithe  and  one  to  Billingsgate.  The  tolls  were,  in 
fact,  the  Queen  of  England's  pin-money.  Vessels 
which  brought  corn  from  the  Cinque  Ports  usually 
discharged  their  cargoes  here.  At  the  end  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  however,  Fabian  says  the  harboui 


THE  "three   CRANES,"   THAMES   STRELT.      (See pcigi!  20.) 


her  son,  the  second  duke,  decapitated  on  Tower 
Hill  for  his  attachment  to  the  House  of  York. 
Lastly,  her  third  daughter,  Margaret,  married 
Charles,  Duke  of  Burgundy.  This  lady's  per- 
severing hostility  to  Henry  VII.,  and  open  support 
of  the  claims  of  Perkin  Warbeck,  believing  him  to 
be  the  last  male  heir  of  the  House  of  Plantagenet, 
have  rendered  her  name  conspicuous  in  history." 

Queenhithe — or  Queenhive,  as  it  was  corruptly 
called  by  the  Ehzabethan  dramatists — was  origi- 
nally, according  to  Stow,  called  "  Edred's  Hythe," 
or  bank,  from  some  Saxon  owner  of  that  part  of 
Thames  Street.  It  was  royal  property  as  early  as 
the  reign  of  King  Stephen,  who  bestowed  it  upon 
William  de  Ypres,  who  left  it  to  the  convent  of  the 


dues  at  Queenhithe  were  worth  only  ^^15  a  year. 
A  century  later  (Stow's  time)  it  was  quite  forsaken. 
In  the  curious  old  ballad  quoted  with  such  naivete 
in  Peele's  chronicle-play  of  Edward  I.,  Queen 
Eleanor  (Eleanor  of  Castile,  wife  of  Edward  I.), 
having  taken  a  false  oath,  sinks  into  the  ground 
at  Charing  Cross  and  rises  again  at  Queenhithe. 
The  ballad-writer  makes  her  say : — 
"  If  that  upon  so  vile  a  thing 

Her  heart  did  ever  think, 
She  vi'ished  the  ground  might  open  wide, 

And  therein  she  might  sink. 

"  With  that  at  Charing  Cross  she  sunk 
Into  the  ground  alive, 
And  after  rose  to  life  again 
In  London  at  Queenhithe." 


20 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tlfpper  Thames  Street. 


It  was  at  Queenhithe  that  the  rash  Essex,  the 
favourite  of  Elizabeth,  took  boat  after  the  affray  in 
the  City,  when  he  was  beginning  to  be  hemmed  in, 
and  he  rowed  back  from  here  to  Essex  House  in 
the  Strand,  where  he  was  soon  after  besieged.  He 
might  as  well,  poor  fellow  !  have  pulled  straight  to 
the  Tower,  and  ordered  the  block  to  be  got  ready. 

St.  Nicholas  Olave's  stood  on  the  west  side  of 
Bread  Street  Hill,  in  the  ward  of  Queenhithe. 
That  it  is  of  great  antiquity  is  evident  by  Gilbert 
FoUot,  Bishop  of  London,  having  given  the  same 
to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's  about  the 
year  1172  ;  and  its  name  is  supposed  to  be  derived 
from  Olave,  or  Olaus,  King  of  Norway.  The 
church  sharing  the  common  fate  in  the  flames  of 
1666,  was  not  rebuilt,  and  the  parish  was  annexed 
to  the  church  of  St.  Nicholas  Cole  Abbey.  The 
following  epitaph  relating  to  Blitheman,  organist  of 
the  Queen's  Chapel,  and  buried  in  St.  Nicholas, 
has  been  preserved : — 

"Here  Blitheman  lies,  a  worthy  wight, 

Who  feared  God  above  ; 
A  friend  to  all,  a  foe  to  none, 

Whom  rich  and  poore  did  love. 
Of  Prince's  Chapel,  gentleman, 

Unto  his  dying  day, 
Whom  all  tooke  great  delight  to  heare 

Him  on  the  organs  play ; 
Whose  passing  skill  in  musicke's  art 

A  scholar  left  behind, 
John  Bull  (by  name),  his  master's  veine 

Expressing  in  each  kind. 
But  nothing  here  continues  long, 

Nor  resting-place  can  have  : 
His  soul  departed  hence  to  heaven, 

His  body  here  in  grave. 
"  He  died  on  Whitsunday,  Anno  Domini  1591." 

The  "Three  Cranes"  was  formerly  a  favourite 
London  sign.  Instead  of  the  three  cranes  which 
in  the  Vintry  used  to  lift  the  barrels  of  wine,  three 
birds  were  represented.  The  "Three  Cranes" 
in  Thames  Street  was  a  famous  tavern  as  early  as 
the  reign  of  James  I.  It  was  one  of  the  taverns 
frequented  by  the  wits  in  Ben  Jonson's  time.  In 
one  of  his  plays  he  says  : — ■ 

"  A  pox  o'  these  pretenders  to  wit !  your  'Three  Cranes,' 
'Mitre,'  and  'Mermaid'  men!  Not  a  corn  of  true  salt,  not 
a  grain  of  right  mustard  amongst  them  all." — Bartholomew 
Fair,  act  i.,  sc.  i. 

And  in  another  of  his  plays  we  have  : — 
"Iniquity.  Nay,  boy,  I  will  bring  thee  to  the  sluts  and 
the  roysters. 
At  Billingsgate,  feasting  with  claret-wine  and  oysters  ; 
From  thence  shoot  the  bridge,  child,  to  the  '  Cranes,'  in  the 

Vintry, 
And  see  there  the  gimblets  how  they  make  their  entry.' 

Ben  Jonson,  "The  Devil  is  an  Ass,"  act  i.,  sc.  1. 

On  the  23rd  of  January,  166 1-2,  Pepys  suffered 


a  bitter  mortification  of  the  flesh  in  having  to 
dine  at  this  tavern  with  some  poor  relations.  The 
sufferings  of  the  snobbish  secretary  must  have  been 
intense: — "By  invitacion  to  my  uncle  Fenner's, 
where  I  found  his  new  wife,  a  pitiful,  old,  ugly,  ill- 
bred  woman  in  a  hatt,  a  midwife.  Here  were  many 
of  his,  and  as  many  of  her  relations,  sorry,  mean 
people;  and  after  choosing  our  gloves  we  all  went 
over  to  the  'Three  Crane'  Taverne,  and  (though 
the  best  room  of  the  house),  in  such  a  narrow  dogg- 
hole  we  were  crammed  (and  I  believe  we  were  near 
forty),  that  it  made  me  loath  my  company  and 
victuals,  and  a  sorry  poor  dinner  it  was  too." 

The  Mercitrius  Politicus  of  May  14th,  1660, 
says  :  "  Information  was  given  to  the  Council  of 
State  that  several  of  His  Majesty's  goods  were  kept 
at  a  fruiterer's  warehouse  near  the  '  Three  Cranes,' 
in  Thames  Street,  for  the  use  of  Mistress  Ehzabeth 
Cromwell,  wife  to  Oliver  Cromwell,  sometime  called 
Protector ;  and  the  Council  ordered  that  persons  be 
appointed  to  view  them,  and  seventeen  cart-loads  of 
rich  house  stuff  was  taken  from  thence  and  brought 
to  Whitehall,  from  whence  they  were  stolen." 

"  New  Queen  Street,"  says  Strype,  "  commonly 
called  the  '  Three  Cranes,'  in  the  Vintry,  a  good 
open  street,  especially  that  part  next  Cheapside, 
which  is  best  built  and  inhabited.  ...  At  the  low 
end  of  the  street,  next  the  Thames,  is  a  pair  of 
stairs,  the  usual  place  for  the  Lord  Mayor  and  alder- 
men to  take  water  at,  to  go  to  Westminster  Hall,  for 
the  new  Lord  Mayor  to  be  sworn  before  the  Barons 
of  the  Exchequer.  This  place,  with  the  'Three 
Cranes,'  is  now  of  some  account  for  the  coster- 
mongers,  where  they  have  their  warehouses  for  their 
fruit."    . 

The  church  of  St.  Martin  in  the  Vintry  was  some- 
times, according  to  Stow,  called  by  the  name  of  St. 
Martin  de  Beremand.  This  church,  destroyed'  in 
the  Great  Fire,  was  not  rebuilt.  A  curious  epitaph 
in  it  related  to  Robert  Dalusse,  barber  in  the  reign 
of  Edward  IV.  :— 

"  As  flowers  in  the  field  thus  passeth  life. 
Naked,  then  clothed,  feeble  in  the  end ; 
It  sheweth  by  Robert  Dalusse,  and  Alison,  his  wife, 
Christ  them  save  from  power  of  the  Fiend." 

A  little  to  the  west  of  Vintner's  Hall  once 
stood  a  most  celebrated  house,  in  Lower  Thames 
Street,  the  residence  of  that  learned  nobleman, 
John  Tiptoft,  Earl  of  Worcester,  and  Lord  High 
Treasurer  of  England  (Edward  IV.),  but  more 
distinguished  to  later  generations  as  the  generous 
patron  of  Caxton,  our  first  great  printer. 

In  the  dedication  of  his  "  Cicero,"  Caxton  says 
of  the  earl :  "  I  mean  the  right  virtuous  and  noble 


Upper  Thames  Street] 


CAXTON'S  PATRON. 


21 


earl,  the  Earl  of  Worcester,  which  late  piteously 
lost  his  life,  whose  soul  I  recomnaend  unto  your 
special  prayers ;  and  also  in  his  time  made  many 
other  virtuous  works,  which  I  have  heard  of.  O 
good  blessed  Lord  God,  what  great  loss  was  it  of 
that  noble,  virtuous,  and  well-disposed  lord  !  when 
I  remember  and  advertise  his  life,  his  science,  and 
his  virtue,  me  thinketh  God  displeased  over  the 
great, loss  of  such  a  man,  considering  his  estate 
and  cunning ;  and  also  the  exercise  of  the  same, 
with  the  great  labours  of  going  on  pilgrimage  unto 
Jerusalem ;  visiting  there  the  holy  places  that  our 
blessed  Lord  Jesu  Christ  hallowed  with  his  blessed 
presence ;  and  shedding  there  his  precious  blood 
for  our  redemption,  and  from  thence  ascended 
unto  his  Father  in  heaven  ;  and  what  worship  had 
he  at  Rome  in  the  presence  of  our  Holy  Father  the 
Pope.  And  so  in  all  other  places  unto  his  death, 
at  which  death  every  man  that  was  there  might 
learn  to  die  and  take  his  death  patiently,  wherein 
I  hope,  and  doubt  not,  but  that  God  received  his 
soul  into  his  everlasting  bliss." 

"  The  Earl  of  Worcester,  while  he  resided  in 
Italy,  was  a  great  collector  of  books.  '  The  Earl 
of  Worcester,'  says  Laurentius  Carbo,  'captivated 
by  the  charms  of  the  Muses,  hath  remained  three 
years  in  Italy,  and  now  resides  at  Padua,  for  the 
sake  of  study,  and  detained  by  the  civilities  of  the 
Venetians,  who,  being  exceedingly  fond  of  books, 
hath  plundered,  if  I  may  so  speak,  our  Italian 
libraries  to  enrich  England.'  After  his  return  home 
the  earl  made  a  present  of  books  to  the  University 
Library  of  Oxford,  which  had  cost  him  500  marks 
— a  great  sum  in  those  times,"  &c.  But  this  pros- 
perity was  not  of  long  duration.  A  new  revolution 
took  place.  Edward  IV.  was  obliged  to  abandon 
his  kingdom  with  great  precipitation  to  save  his 
life.  The  Earl  of  Worcester  was  not  so  fortunate 
as  to  escape ;  but,  after  he  had  concealed  himself 
a  few  days,  he  was  discovered  on  a  high  tree  in 
the  forest  of  Waybrig,  conducted  to  London,  con- 
demned at  Westminster,  and  beheaded  on  Tower 
Hill,  October  15, 1470.  He  was  accused  of  cruelty 
in  the  government  of  Ireland;  but  his  greatest 
crime,  and  that  for  which  he  suffered,  was  his  steady 
loyalty  to  his  rightful  sovereign  and  generous  bene- 
factor, Edward  IV.  "The  axe,"  says  Fuller,  in 
his  usually  pithy  way,  "  then  did,  at  one  blow,  cut 
off  more  learning  than  was  in  the  heads  of  all  the 
surviving  nobiHty."  While  the  earl  resided  at  Padua, 
which  was  about  three  years,  during  the  heat  of 
the  civil  wars  in  England,  he  visited  Rome,  and 
dehvered  an  oration  before  Pope  Pius  II.  (^neas 
Silvius)  and  his  cardinals,  which  drew  tears  of  joy 
ffom  His   Holiness,   and  made   him   say  aloud. 


"  Behold  the.  only  prince  of  our  times  who,  for 
virtue  and  eloquence,  may  be  compared  to  the 
most  excellent  emperors  of  Greece  and  Rome ;" 
and  yet  so  barbarous  was  the  age,'  that  this  same 
learned  man  impaled  forty  Lancastrian  prisoners  at 
Southampton,  put  to  death  the  infant  children  of 
the  Irish  chief  Desmond,  and  acquired  the  nick- 
name of  "the  Butcher  of  England." 

Vintners'  Hall — one  of  the  most  interesting 
buildings  now  existing  in  Thames  Street,  once  so 
much  inhabited  by  the  rich  and  noble — stands  on 
the  river-side  not  far  from  Queenhithe. 

According  to  worthy  Stow,  the  Vintry,  up  till 
the  28th  of  Edward  I.,  was  the  special  spot  where 
the  Bordeaux  merchants  unloaded  their  lighters 
and  sold  their  wines.  Sir  John  Stodie,  Vintner, 
gave  the  ground,  in  1357  (Edward  III.),  to  the 
Vintners,  with  all  the  neighbouring  tenements,  and 
there  the  Vintners  built  a  fair  hall,  and  thirteen 
almshouses  for  thirteen  poor  people. 

The  contentions  between  the  citizens  of  London 
and  the  Gascon  wine  merchants,  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  I.,  it  has  been  remarked,  would  lead  us  to 
infer  that  the  Vintners  had  long  before  that  time 
acted  as  a  fraternity,  though  not  formally  incorpo- 
rated till  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  Edward  I. 
granted  them  Botolph  Wharf,  near  BiUingsgate,  in 
the  mayoralty  of  Henry  de  Valois,  on  their  paying 
a  silver  penny  annually  at  the  feast  of  the  Nativity 
of  St.  John  the  Baptist.  Towards  the  French  wars 
they  contributed  ^2^  6s.  8d.,  a  greater  sum  than 
that  given  by  the  majority  of  the  companies ;  and 
in  50  Edward  III.  they  sent  six  members  to  the 
Common  Council,  which  showed  their  wealth  and 
importance. 

The  Saxons  seem  to  have  had  vineyards.  In 
the  Norman  times  there  was  a  vineyard  in  the 
Tower  predncts.  It  is  supposed  this  uncomfort- 
able home-made  wine  was  discarded  when  Gascony 
fell  into  our  hands.  Some  writers  who  disbelieve 
in  English  wines  declare  that  the  Saxons  used  the 
English  word  " vineyard "  for  "orchard,"  and  that 
wine  was,  after  all,  cider.  Certain,  however,  it  is  that 
at  Bath  and  other  old  towns  there  are  old  streets 
still  called  the  Vineyard.  The  traffic  in  Bordeaux 
wines  is  said  to  have  commenced  about  1154,  when 
Henry  II.  married  Eleanor  of  Aquitaine. 

"  The  Normans,"  says  Herbert,  "  were  the  great 
carriers,  and  Guienne  the  place  from  whence  most 
of  our  wines  came."  The  wines  enujnerated  are 
Muscadell,  a  rich  wine ;  Malmsey,  Rhenish ;  Dale 
wine,  a  sort  of  Rhenish  ;  Stum,  strong  new  wine  ; 
Gascony  wine;  Alicant,  a  Spanish  wine,  made  of 
mulberries  ;  Canary  wine,  or  sweet  sack  (the  grape 
of  which  was  brought  from  the  Canaries)  j  Sherrv, 


22 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Upper  Thames  Street. 


the  original  sack,  not  sweet ;  Ruraney,  a  sort  of 
Spanish  wine.  Sack  was  a  term  loosely  applied  at 
first  to  all  white  wines.  It  was  probably  those 
species  of  wines  that  Fitzstephens,  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  II.,  mentions  to  have  been  sold  in  the  ships, 
and  in  wine-cellars  near  the  public  places  of  cookery 
on  the  Thames'  bank. 

There  were  four  Vintner  mayors  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  III.,  and  yet,  says  Stow,  gravely,  "Gascoyne 
wines  were  then  sold  at  London  not  above  4d., 
nor  Rhenish  wine  above  6d.  the  gallon."  In  this 
reign  John  Peeche,  a  fishmonger,  was  imprisoned 
and  fined  for  having  obtained  a  monopoly  for  the 
sale  of  sweet  wines  ;  and  in  the  6th  of  Henry  VI., 
John  Rainewell,  Mayor  of  London,  finding  that  the 
Lombard  wine  merchants  adulterated  their  sweet 
wines,  he,  in  his  wrath,  ordered  150  vessels  to  be 
staved  in,  "  so  that  the  liquor,  running  forth, 
passed  through  the  cittie  like  a  stream  of  rain- 
water in  the  sight  of  all  the  people,  from  whence 
there  issued  a  most  loathsome  savour." 

In  2  Henry  VI.  there  was  a  petition  to  Parlia- 
ment praying  that  the  wine-casks  from  Gascony — 
tonnes,  pipes  and  hogsheads — should  be  of  full 
and  true  measure ;  and  in  10  Henry  VI.  there  was 
another  petition  against  the  adulteration  of  Gascon 
and  Guienne  wines,  in  which  the  writer  says,  "wines 
that  formerly  had  been  fine  and  fair  were  drinking 
for  four  or  five  lives." 

The  charter  confirmed  by  Henry  VI.  forbids 
any  but  such  as  are  enfranchised  by  the  craft  of 
Vintners  to  trade  in  wines  from  Gascony;  and 
Gascoigners  were  forbidden  to  sell  wine  except  in 
the  tun  or  pipe.  The  right  of  search  in  taverns  and 
the  regulation  of  prices  was  given  to  four  members 
of  the  Company,  annually  chosen.  It  also  permitted 
merchant  Vintners  to  buy  cloth,  and  the  merchants 
of  Gascoigne  to  purchase  dried  fish  in  Cornwall  and 
Devon,  also  herrings  and  cloth,  in  what  other  parts 
of  the  kingdom  they  please.  All  wines  coming 
to  London  were  to  be  unloaded  above  London 
Bridge,  at  the  Vintry,  so  that  the  king's  bottlers 
and  gaugers  might  there  take  custom. 

Charles  I.,  always  arbitrary  and  greedy,  seems 
to  have  extorted  40s.  a  tun  from  the  Vintners,  and 
in  return  prohibited  the  wine  coopers  from  ex- 
porting wines.  Licences  for  retailing  wine  were 
at  this  time  granted  by  the  Vintners'  Company  for 
the  king's  benefit.  He  also  forbade  the  sale  of 
wines  in  bottles  instead  of  measures. 

The  Vintners  have  six  charters — Edward  III., 
Henry  VI.  (two),  Mary,  Elizabeth,  and  their  acting 
charter,  9  James  I.  The  Vintners'  arms,  granted  by 
Henry  VL,  are  sable,  a  chevron  cetu,  three  tuns 
argent,  with  a  Bacchus  and  loving-cup  for  th§  crest. 


Patents  received  their  death-blow  from  the  Par- 
liament in  1 641,  when  two  patentees,  Alderman 
Abell  and  Richard  Kilvert,  were  severely  fined 
for  having  obtained  from  Charles  I.  an  exclusive 
patent  for  wine.  The  Perfect  Dmrnall  of  5th 
February,  1641,  thus  notices  the  transaction: — "A 
bill  was  brought  into  the  House  of  Commons  con- 
cerning the  wine  business,  by  which  it  appeared 
that  Alderman  Abell  and  Mr.  Kilvert  had  in  their 
hands,  which  they  deceived  the  King  of,  ;£^5  7,000 
upon  the  wine  licence;  the  Vintners  of  London, 
;^66,ooo ;  the  wine  merchants  of  Bristol,  .;^i,o5i ; 
all  of  which  moneys  were  ordered  to  be  imme- 
diately raised  on  their  lands  and  estates,  and  to  be 
employed  to  the  public  use.'' 

A  very  scarce  and  satirical  contemporaneous 
tract  on  the  subject  (says  Herbert)  gives,  in  a  sup- 
posed dialogue  betweeri,  the  two  parties,  a  ludicrous 
exposure  of  this  business  of  patent  hunting.  Abell 
and  Kilvert,  who  in  the  tract  are  called  "the  two 
maine  projectors  for  wine,"  accidentally  meet,  and 
the  latter  claiming  acquaintance  with  the  alderman, 
as  one  at  whose  house  he  had  often  been  a  guest, 
"  when  he  kept  the  '  Ship '  tavern  behind  Old  Fish 
Street,"  Abell  answers  that  he  did  indeed  get  a 
good  estate  there  by  retailing  wines,  but  chiefly 
through  finding  hidden  treasure  in  digging  a  vault 
near  his  cellar,  or,  as  he  terms  it,  "  the  cardinal's 
cellar,"  and  without  which,  he  adds,  "  I  had  never 
came  to  wear  this  gold  chaine,  with  my  thumbes 
under  my  girdle."  Kilvert's  proposal  contains  a  fine 
piece  of  satire  on  the  mode  in  which  such  patents 
were  first  obtained  :— 

"Kilv.  Many,  thus  :  We  must  first  pretend,  both  in  the 
merchant  and  vmtner,  some  gross  abuses,  and  these  no 
meane  ones  either.  And  that  the  merchant  shall  pay  to  the 
king  forty  shillings  for  every  tun  ere  he  shall  vent  it  to  the 
vintner  ;  in  lieu  of  which,  that  the  vintner  may  be  no  looser, 
he  shall  rayse  the  price  also  of  his  wines— upon  all  French 
wines  a  penny  in  the  quart,  upon  all  Spanish  wines  two-pence 
the  quart :  it  is  no  matter  how  the  subject  suffert,  so  we  get 
and  gaine  by  it.  Now  to  cover  this  our  craft  (I  will  not  say 
coinage),  because  all  things  of  the  like  nature  carry  a  pretence 
for  the  king's  profit,  so  we  will  allow  him  a  competent  pro- 
portion of  forty  thousand  pounds  perannum ;  when,  the  power 
of  the  patent  being  punctually  executed,  will  yield  double  at 
least,  if  not  treble  that  surae,  and  returne  it  into  the  coffers 
of  the  undertakers. 

"Abell.  Mr.  Kilvert,  I  honour  thee  before  all  the  feasts  in 
our  hall.  Nay,  we  are  free  Vintners  and  brothers  of  the 
gmld,  and  are  for  the  most  part  true  Trojans,  and  know 
where  to  find  the  best  butts  of  wine  in  the  cellar,  and  will 
pierce  them  for  thee;  it  shall  be  pure  wine  from  the  grape,  r^ot 
mixt  and  compounded,  but  real  and  brisk.  You  thinke  there 
are  no  brewers  but  such  as  brew  ale  and  beere ;  I  tell  you 
we  do  brew  and  cunger  in  our  sellers,  as  much  as  any  brewer 
of  their  ale.  Yea,  and  without  fire  too ;  but  so  much  for 
that.  Methinkes  I  see  myselfe  in  Cheapside,  upon  an  horse 
rjchly  caparisoned,  and  my  two  shri?ves  to  attend  me  j  and 


Upper  Thames  Street.] 


THE  VINTNERS. 


23 


methinkes  thee  in  thy  caroch,  drawn  by  four  horses,  when  I 
shall  call  to  thee  and  say,  'Friend  Kilvert,  give  me  thy 
hand.' 

"Jiilv.  To  which  I  shall  answer,  'God  bless  your  honour, 
my  good  Lord  Maior  !'  " 

The  song  we  annex  occurs  at  the  end  of  the 
only  printed  pageant  of  the  Vintners,  and  was  sung 
in  the  hall.  No  subsequent  City  pageant  was  ever 
publicly  performed  since;  that  written  for  1708  was 
not  exhibited,  owing  to-the  death  of  Prince  George 
of  Denmark  the  day  before.  For  that  pageant  no 
songs  were  written,  so  that  this  is  the  last  song  of 
the  last  City  poet  at  the  last  City  pageant,  and  a 
better  specimen  than  usual  of  his  powers  : — 

"  Come,  come,  let  us  drink  the  Vintners'  good  health  ; 
'Tis  the  cask,  not  the  coffer,  that  holds  the  true  wealth  ; 
If  to  founders  of  blessings  we  pyramids  raise. 
The  bowl,  next  the  sceptre,  deserves  the  best  praise. 
Then,  next  to  the  Queen,  let  the  Vintners'  fame  shine ; 
She  gives  us  good  laws,  and  they  fill  us  good  wine. 

"  Columbus  and  Cortez  their  sails  they  unfurl'd. 
To  discover  the  mines  of  an  Indian  world. 
To  find  beds  of  gold  so  far  they  could  roam  ; 
Fools  !  fools  !  when  the  wealth  of  the  world  lay  at  home. 
The  grape,  the  true  treasure,  much  nearer  it  grew  : 
One  Isle  of  Canary's  worth  all  the  Peru. 

"  Let  misers  in  garrets  lay  up  their  gay  store. 
And  keep  their  rich  bags  to  live  wretchedly  poor ;' 
'Tis  the  cellar  alone  with  true  fame  is  renown'd  : 
Her  treasure  's  diffusive,  and  cheers  all  around. 
The  gold  and  the  gem  's  but  the  eye's  gaudy  toy. 
But  the  Vintners'  rich  juice  gives  health,  life,  and  joy." 

Many  of  the  documents  of  the  Company  kept 
at  the  first  hall  are  supposed  to  have  been  lost  in 
the  Fire  of  London,  which  is  said  to  be  the  reason 
why  some  of  the  almshouse  and  other  donations 
cannot  be  satisfactorily  accounted  for. 

The  New  View  of  London  (1708)  describes 
Vintners'  Hall  to  be  "  situated  on  the  south  side 
of  Thames  Street,  near  Queen  Street,"  and  to  be 
"well  built  of  brick,  and  large  and  commodious. 
The  room,"  it  adds,  "  called  the  Hall  is  paved  with 
marble,  and  the  walls  richly  wainscoted  with  right 
wainscot,  enriched  with  fruit  leaves,  &c.,  finely 
carved,  as  is  more  especially  the  noble  screen  at 
the  east  end,  where  the  aperture  into  the  Hall  is 
adorned  with  columns,  their  entablature  and  pitched 
pediment ;  and  on  acrosters  are  placed  the  figures 
of  Bacchus  between  several  Fames,  and  these 
between  two  panthers ;  and  there  are  other  carved 
figures,  as  St.  Martin,  their  patron,  and  the  cripple, 
and  pilasters ;  there  are  also  other  embellishments 
of  several  coats  of  arms,  &c." 

Two  of  the  London  Companies — the  Dyers'  and 
the  Vintners'  Companies — are,  with  the  Crown,  the 
principal  owners  of  swans  in  the  Thames.  These 
two  companies  have  long  enjoyed  the  privilege  of 


keeping  swans  on  the  river,  from  the  Metropolis 
to  a  considerable  distance  above  Windsor.  "The 
swans  in  the  Thames,''  says  Mr.  Kempe,  "  are 
much  less  numerous  than  they  used  to  be.  In 
Augfist,  1 841,  the  following  number  of  old  and 
young  swans  belonged  to  Her  Majesty  and  the  two 
civic  companies : — 

Old  Swans.  Cygnets.  Total. 

The  Queen  1S5           47  233 

The  Vintners'  Company 79            21  100 

The  Dyers'  Company 91            14  105 


3SS 


82 


437 


At  one  period,  however,  the  Vintners'  Company 
alone  possessed  500  birds. 

"  On  the  first  Monday  in  August  in  every  year, 
the  swan-markers  of  the  Crown  and  the  two  City 
companies  go  up  the  Thames  for  the  purpose  of 
inspecting  and  taking  an  account  of  the  swans 
belonging  to  their  respective  employers,  and 
marking  the  young  tirds.  They  proceed  to  the 
different  parts  of  the  river  frequented  by  the  swans 
for  breeding,  and  other  places  where  these  birds  are 
kept.  They  pay  half-a-crown  for  each  young  bird 
to  the  fishermen  who  have  made  nests  for  the  old 
birds,  and  two  shillings  per  week  to  any  person  who 
during  the  winter  has  taken  care  of  the  swans  by 
sheltering  them  in  ponds,  or  otherwise  protecting 
them  from  the  severity  of  the  weather.  When,  as 
it  sometimes  happens,  the  cob  bird  (male)  of  one 
owner  mates  with  a  pen  bird  (female)  belonging 
to  another,  the  brood  are  divided  between  the 
owners  of  the  parent  birds,  the  odd  cygnet  (except 
in  Buckinghamshire)  being  allotted  to  the  owner  of 
the  cob. 

"  The  marks  are  made  upon  the  upper  mandible 
with  a  knife  or  other  sharp  instrument.  The  forms 
and  devices  greatly  differ.  Thus,  the  swan-mark 
of  Eton  College,  which  has  the  privilege  of  keeping 
swans  on  the  Thames,  is  the  armed  point  and 
feathered  end  of  an  arrow,  and  is  represented  by 
nail-heads  on  the  door  of  one  of  the  inner  rooms  of 
the  college.  The  Dyers'  and  Vintners'  marks  date 
from  the  reign  of  Ehzabeth,  and  anciently  consisted 
of  circles  or  amulets  on  the  beak ;  but  the  cutting 
of  these  being  considered  to;  inflict  more  severe 
pain  on  the  birds  than  straight  lines,  the  rings  are 
now  omitted,  and  the  lines  are  doubled.  The  two 
nicks  are  probably  intended  for  two  half-lozenges, 
or  a  demi-lozengsee  on  each  side.  The  V  is  perhaps 
a  chevron  reversed,  the  arms  of  the  Company  being 
sable,  a  chevron  between  three  tuns  argent ;  for 
the  true  chevron  could  scarcely  be  cut  on  the  beak 
of  the  bird  without  each  lateral  branch  crossing  its 
elongated  and  tender  nostril ;    and  this,  from  a 


24 


OLD   AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Upper  Thames  Street 


feeling  of  humanity,  the  marker  would  be  disposed 
to  avoid.  That  many  of  these  swan-marks,  besides 
being  heraldic,  have  the  adaptation  of  the  initial 
letter  of  the  word  '  Vintner,'  and  form  also  .the 
Roman  numeral  V,  is  supported  by  a  custom  at  the 
feasts  of  the  Vintners'  Company,  where  one  of  the 
regular  stand-up  toasts  of  the  day  is,  '  The  Wor- 
shipful Company  of  Vintners  with  Five.'  The 
royal  swan-mark  has  been  unchanged  since  the 
commencement  of  the  reign  of  George  III." 

On  College  Hill,  while  intriguing  with  the  City, 


'  In  the  first  rank  of  these  did  Zimri  stand; 
A  man  so  various  that  he  seemed  to  be 
Not  one,  but  all  mankind's  epitome  ; 
Stiff  in  opinions,  always  in  the  wrong, 
Was  everything  by  starts  and  nothing  long  ; 
But,  in  the  course  of  one  revolving  moon, 
Was  chemist,  fiddler,  statesman,  and  buffoon  j 
Then  all  for  women,  painting,  rhyming,  drinking. 
Besides  ten  thousand  freaks  that  died  in  thinking. 
Blest  madman,  who  could  every  hour  employ, 
With  something  new  to  vrish,  or  to  enjoy  ! 
Railing  and  praising  were  his  usual  themes  ; 
And  both,  to  show  his  judgment,  in  extremes  ; 


COLD  HARBOUR.     (See page  IT.) 


lived  Dryden's  "  Zimri,"  the  second  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham. In  a  pasquinade,  preserved  in  the  State 
Poems,  entitled  the  "  D.  of  B's.  (Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham's) Litany,"  occur  the  following  lines  : — 

"  From  damning  whatever  we  don't  understand. 
From  purchasing  at  Dowgate  and  selling  in  the  Strand, 
From  calling  streets  by  our  name  when  we've  sold  the  land. 

Libera  nos,  Domine. 

"  From  borrowing  our  own  house  to  feast  scholars  ill, 
And  then  be  un-chancellored  against  our  will. 
Nought  left  of  a  College  but  College  Hill, 

Libera  nos,"  &c. 

Nor  would  our  readers  ever  pardon   us  if  we 
omitted  Dryden's  immortal  portrait  of  the  mercurial 

duke : — 


So  over-violent,  or  over-civil. 

That  every  man  with  him  was  God  or  devil. 

In  squandering  wealth  was  his  peculiar  art ; 

Nothing  went  unrewarded  but  desert. 

Beggar'd  by  fools,  whom  stUl  he  found  too  late, 

He  had  his  jest,  and  they  had  his  estate. 

He  laughed  himself  firom  court ;  then  sought  relier 

By  forming  parties,  but  could  ne'er  be  chief ; 

For,  spite  of  him,  the  weight  of  business  fell 

On  Absalom  and  wise  Achitophel." 

Lord  Clarendon,  in  his  life  of  himself,  indeed, 
informs  us  that  "  the  duke  had  many  lodgings  in 
several  quarters  of  the  City ;  and  though  his  Majesty 
had  frequent  intelligence  where  he  was,  yet  when 
the  serjeant-at-arms,  and  others,  employed  for  his 
apprehension,  came  where  he  was  known  to  have 


Upper  Thames  Street.] 


THE  DUKE  OF   BUCKINGHAM. 


25 


been  but  an  hour  before,  he  was  gone  from  hence, 
or  so  concealed  that  he  could  not  be  found." 

"  Dryden's  inimitable  description,"  says  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  who  has  himself  nobly  sketched  the  "Zimri" 
of  the  poet,  "refers,  as  is  well  known,  to  the 
famous  George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  son 
of  the  favourite  of  Charles  I.,  who  was  murdered  by 


famous  administration  called  the  Cabal,  wliich  first 
led  Charles  into  unpopular  and  arbitrary  measures, 
and  laid  the  foundation  for  the  troubles  of  his 
future  reign.  Buckingham  changed  sides  about 
1675,  and  .becoming  attached  to  the  country  party, 
made  a  most  active  figure  in  all  proceedings  which 
had  relation  to  the  Popish  plot ;  intrigued  deeply 


PAST    02'^  LANGBOURN    WAMD 


TOWER  STREET  WARD.     (Froni  a  Map  made  for  Stow's  Survey.) 


Felton.  The  Eestoration  put  into  the  hands  of  the 
most  lively,  mercurial,  ambitious,  and  licentious 
genius  who  ever  lived,  an  estate  of  twenty  thousand 
a  year,  to  be  squandered  in  every  wild  scheme 
which  the  lust  of  power,  of  pleasure,  of  licence,  or 
of  whim,  could  dictate  to  an  unrestrained  imagina- 
tion. Being  refused  the  situation  of  president  of 
:he  North,  he  was  suspected  of  having  favoured  the 
disaffected  in  that  part  of  England,  and  was  dis- 
graced accordingly.  But  in  1666  he  regained  the 
favour  of  the  king,  and  became  a  member  of  the 
61— Vot.  II. 


with  Shaftesbury,  and  distinguished  himself  as  a 
promoter  of  the  Bill  of  Exclusion.  Hence  he  stood 
an  eminent  mark  for  Dryden's  satire,  which,  we 
may  believe,  was  not  the  less  poignant  that  the 
poet  had  sustained  a  personal  affront,  from  being 
depicted  by  his  grace  under  the  character  of  Bayes 
in  the  Rehearsal.  As  Dryden  owed  the  duke  no 
favour,  he  has  shown  him  none ;  yet,  even  here, 
the  ridiculous  rather  than  the  infamous  part  of  his 
character  is  touched  upon ;  and  the  unprincipled 
libertinCi  who  slew  the  Earl  of  Shaftesbury  while 


26' 


OLD  AND   NEW    LONDON. 


[upper  Thames  S^treet, 


his  adulterous;  countess  held  his  horse  in  the  dis- 
guise of  a  page,  and  who  boasted  of  caressing  her 
before  he  changed  the  bloody  clothes  in  which 
he  had  murdered  her  husband,  is  not  exposed  to 
hatred,  while  the  spendthrift  and  castle-builder  are 
held  up  to  contempt."  < 

The  death  of  this  butterfly  Pope  has  drawn  with 
terrible  force  : — 

"  In  the  worst  inn's  worst  room,  with  mat  half  hung. 
The  floors  of  plaister,  and  the  walls  of  dung ; 
On  once  a  flock-bed,  but  repaired  with  straw, 
With  tape-tied  curtains,  never  meant  to  draw  ; 
The  George  and  Garter  dangling  from  that  bed. 
Where  tawdry  yellow  strove  with  dirty  red. 
Great  Villiers  lies  !  alas,  how  changed  from  him  ! 
That  life  of  pleasure,  and  that  soul  of  whim ; 
Gallant  and  gay,  in  Cliveden's  proud  alcove. 
The  bower  of  wanton  Shrewsbury  and  love  ', 
Or  just  as  gay  at  council,  in  a  ring 
Of  mimick'd  statesmen,  and  a  merry  king  ; 
No  wit  to  flatter  left  of  all  his  store. 
No  fool  to  laugh  at,  which  he  valued  more  ; 
There,  victor  of  his  health,  of  fortune,  friends. 
And  fame,  this  lord  of  useless  thousands  ends." 

It  must,  however,  be  allowed  that  the  poet's 
shadows  are  too  dark,  for  the  duke  died  in  the 
house  of  a  respectable  tenant  in  Yorkshire,  from 
a  fever  caught  out  hunting. 

The  Mercers'  School,  College  Hill,  is  one  of 
the  four  ancient  schools  of  London,  of  which 
number  the  Mercers'  Company  have  the  proud 
privilege  of  having  given  their  generous  patronage 
to  two.  It  stood  originally  in  the  Old,  Jewry  (west 
side),  and  formed  part  of  a  cemetery  for  strangers 
and  a  house  of  the  Knights  Hospitalers,  founded 
during  the  reign  of  Henry  II.  by  Thomas  Fitz- 
Theobald  de  Helles,  who  married  Agnes,  a  sister 
of  the  so-called  martyr  Thomas  h  Becket.  The 
school  was  held  in  a  chapel  of  St.  Thomas  of  Aeon 
(Acre).  It  was  classed  among  the  four  City  schools 
which  received  the  sanction  of  Parliament  in  1447 
(Henry  VI.),  when  "four grave  clergymen  and  par- 
sons "  of  City  parishes,  seeing  the  gross  ignorance 
prevalent  in  London  since  Henry  V.  had  seized 
many  of  the  alien  priories  and  religious  houses  in 
England,  and  so  reduced  the  number  of  schools, 
humbly  petitioned  that  they  might  be  allowed  to 
play  a  part  in  the  advancement  of  learning.  These 
worthy  men  were  at  once  allowed  to  set  up  schools 
of  their  own  founding  in  their  respective  parishes 
— i.e.,  Great  Allhallows,  St.  Andrew's,  Holborn, 
St.  Peter's,  Cornhill,  and  St.  Mary  Colechurch  (St. 
Thomas  Aeons).  When  Henry  VIII.  laid  his 
eager  hands  on  the  Abbot  of  St.  Nicholas'  princely 
revenues,  and  sold  the  hospital  to  the  Mercers' 
Company,  he  exptessly  stipulated  that  thQ  school, 
chapel,  and  cemetery  should  be  retained.     After 


the  Great  Fire,  in  the  Act  for  rebuilding  the  City 
(1676),  it  was  expressly  provided  that  there  should 
be  a  plot  of  ground  set  apart  on  the  west  side  of 
Old  Jewry  for  Mercers'  Chapel  Grammar  School. 
In  1787  the  school  was  removed  to  No.  13,  Budge 
Row,  about  thirty  yards  from  Dowgate  Hill,  On 
the  death  of  Mr.  Waterhouse,  the  master,  in  1804, 
the  school  was  suspended  for  a  time;  and  then  re- 
moved to  No,  20,  Red  Lion  Court,  Watling  Street. 
There  it  remained  till  1808,  when  it  was  removed 
to  its  present  situation  on  College  Hill.  Up  to 
1804  it  had  been  a  free  school  with  twenty-five 
scholars,  the  master  being  allowed  to  take  private 
puptts.  Greek  and  Latin  were  alone  taught ;  but 
after  1804  English  and  the  modern  sciences  were 
also  introduced.  The  school  reopened  with  a 
single  scholar,  but  soon  began  to  take  root ;  and 
in  1805  the  Company  increased  the  number  of 
scholars  to  thirty-five.  There  are  two  exhibitions 
of  ;^7o  each,  founded  by  Mr.  Thomas  Rich,  a 
master  of  the  school,  who  died  in  1672.  The 
rules  of  1804  require  every  boy  to  bring  wax 
tapers  for  his  use  in  winter.  Mr.  William  Baxter, 
an  eminent  grammarian,  who  died  in  the  year  1725, 
was  master  of  .this  school  for  more  than  twtnty 
years. 

The  list  of  eminent  persons  educated  in  the 
Mercers'  School  includes  the  wise  and  worthy  Dean 
Colet,  the  friend  of  Erasmus  and  founder  of  St.- 
Paul's  School;  that  great  merchant.  Sir  Thomas 
Gresham;  William  Fulke,  master  of  Pembroke  Hall, 
Cambridge,  and  a  commentator  on  the  Rheims 
Testament;  John  Young,  Bishop  of  Rochester  (died 
1605)  ;  Davenant,  Bishop  of  SaHsbury  (died 
1641) ;  Sir  Lionel  Cranfield,  afterwards  Earl  of 
Middlesex  and  Lord  Treasurer  to  James  I.;  and 
Matthew  Wren,  Bishop  of  Ely  (died  1667). 

St.  Michael's  Paternoster  Royal,  College  Hill,  is 
mentioned  as  early  as  1283,  when  Hugh  de  Derby 
was  rector.  It  is  interesting  to  us  from  having 
been  rebuilt  by  the  illustrious  Richard  Whittington, 
thrice  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  Here,  on  the 
north  side  of  the  church,  he  built  almshouses  (now 
the  site  of  the  Mercers'  School),  some  years  since 
removed  to  Highgate ;  and  here,  in  great  state, 
he  was  buried.  Alas  for  human  fame  and  human 
gratitude !  no  memorial  of  the  good  man  now 
exists  at  St.  Michael's— not  even  a  half-worn-out 
stone— not  even  a  thin,  trodden,  defaced  brass. 
The  great  sculptured  marble  tomb  is  gone  to  dust ; 
the  banners  have  faded  like  the  leaf.  In  the  reign 
of  Edward  VI.  one  Mountain,  an  incumbent  (may 
the  earth  lie  heavy  on  him  !),  believing  great  riches 
of  gold  and  jewels  were -buried  with  Whittington, 
dug  him  up,  and,  probably  in  his  vexation,  destroyed 


Upper  Thames  Street.] 


WHITTINGTON'S  CHARITY. 


27 


the  tomb.  In  the  reign  of  Mary  the  parishioners 
reopened  the  grave,  to  re-wrap  the  dishonoured 
body  in  lead.  It  is  now  beyond  desecration,  nor 
could  it  be  sifted  from  the  obscurer  earth.  In  the 
old  epitaph,  which  is  in  excellent  rhyming  Latin, 
Whittington  is  quaintly  termed  "  Richardus  Albi- 
ficans  villam." 

"  Ut  fragrans  Nardus, 

Fama  fuit  iste  Riqhardus, 
Albificans  villam, 

Qui  juste  rexerat  illam. 
•  #  *  « 

Pauperibus  pater, 

Et  Major  qui  fnit  urbis, 
Martins  hunc  vicit, 

En  !  Annos  gens  tibi  dicit, 
Finiit  ipse  dies, 

Sis  sibi  Christe  quies.     Amen.'' 

"  This  church,"  says  Stow,  "  was  made  a  College 
of  St.  Spirit  and  St.  Mary  by  Richard  Whittington, 
Mercer,  four  times  maior,  for  a  master,  four  fellows, 
Masters  of  Art,  clerks,  conducts,  chorists,  &c.  ; 
and  an  almshouse,  called  God's  house  or  hospital, 
for  thirteen  poor  men,  one  of  them  to  be  tutor, 
and  to  have  i6d.  a  week,  the  other  twelve  each  of 
them  to  have  i4d.  the  week  for  evef,  with  other 
necessary  provision ;  an  hutch  with  three  docks,  a 
common  seal,  &c." 

The  original  declaration  of  the  executors  begins 
thus :  "  The  fervent  desire  and  besy  intention  of  a 
prudent,  wyse,  and  devout  man  shal  be  to  cast 
before  and  make  seure  the  state  and  thende  of 
the  short  liffe  with  dedys  of  mercy  and  pite ;  and, 
namely,  to  provide  for  such  pouer  persons  which 
grevous  penuere  and  cruel  fortune  have  oppressed, 
and  be  not  of  power  to  get  their  lyving  either  by 
craft  or  by  any  other  bodily  labour ;  whereby  that 
at  the  day  of  the  last  judgment  he  may  take  his 
part  with  them  that  shal  be  saved.  This  consider- 
ing, the  foresaid  worthy  and  notable  merchant, 
Richard  Whyttington,  the  which  while  he  lived 
had  ryght  liberal  and  large  hands  to  the  needy 
and  poure  people,  charged  streitly,  in  his  death- 
bed, us  his  foresaid  executors  to  ordeyne  a  house 
of  almes,  after  his  deth,  for  perpetual  sustentacion 
of  such  poure  people  as  is  tofore  rehersed ;  and 
thereupon  fully  he  declared  his  wyll  unto  us." 

The  -laws  of  the  college  required  that  "  every 
tutour  and  poor  folk  every  day  first  when  they  rise 
fro  their  bedds,  kneeling  upon  their  knees,  say  a 
Pater  Noster  and  an  Ave  Maria,,  with  special 
and  herty  commendacion-making  of  the  foresaid 
Richard  Whyttington  and  Alice,  to  God  and  our 
blessed  lady  Maidyn  Mary ;  and  other  times  of 
the  day,  when  he  may  best  and  most  commody 
hav§  }?isuf§  thereto^  for  th?  staat  of  al  thq  souls 


abovesaid,  say  two  or  three  sauters  of  our  Lady  at 
the  least — that  is  to  say,  threies  seaven  Ave  Marias, 
with  XV.  -Pater  Nosters  and  three  credes." 

St.  Michael's  was  destroyed  in  the  Great  Fire, 
and  rebuilt  under  Wren's  directions.  The  spire 
was  erected  in  1715.  The  parish  of  St.  Martin 
Vintry  is  incorporated  with  that  of  St.  Michael.  In 
this  church  is  Hilton's  commendable  picture  of  St. 
Mary  Magdalene  anointing  the  feet  of  Christ,  pre- 
sented by  the  directors  of  the  British  Institution  in 
1820.  There  is  some  good  carving  in  the  oak 
altar-piece  below  the  picture.  The  marble  font 
was  the  gift  of  Abraham  Jordan  in  1700.  The 
monument  to  Sir  Samuel  Pennant  (an  ancestor  of 
the  London  historian),  who  died  in  the  year  of  his 
mayoralty  (1750),  is  worthy  of  record,  as  is  that 
of  Marmaduke  Langdale,  a  descendant  of  that 
Lord  Langdale  who  commanded  the  left  wing  of 
King  Charles's  army  in  the  battle  of  Naseby.  The 
lower  storey  of  the  steeple  is  formed  by  eight 
projecting  Ionic  columns,  bearing  an  entablature 
and  vases,  and  the  efifect,  though  fantastic,  is  not 
unpicturesque. 

In  St.  Michael's  lies  buried  that  brave  young 
Cavalier  poet,  John  Cleveland,  as  clever  and  as 
unfortunate  a  bard  as  his  contemporary,  poor  Love- 
lace. Expelled  from  a  Cambridge  fellowship  as  a 
malignant,  Cleveland  mounted  his  horse  and  drew 
sword  for  King  Charles,  for  whom  he  wrote  or 
fought  till  his  life's  end.  He  was  thrown  into 
prison  by  Cromwell,  who  let  him  out  on  his  telling 
him  that  he  was  too  poor  to  purchase  his  release. 
The  poet  then  took  up  his  abode  in  Gray's  Inn, 
close  to  Butler,  the  author  of  "Hudibras,"  and 
there  they  established  a  nightly  Cavalier  club. 
Cleveland  died  young,  and  his  friend,  good  Bishop 
Pearson,  preached  his  funeral  sermon.  Of  the 
poet's  quick,  overstrained  fancy,  and  of  his  bitter 
satire  against  the  Scotch,  who  had  betrayed  King 
Charles  for  money,  we  give  two  examples  :^ 

Upon  Phillis  walking  in  a  Morning  before 
Sunrise. 
"  The  sluggish  morn  as  yet  undrest, 
My  Phillis  broke  from  out  her  east, 
As  if  she'd  made  a  match  to  ran 
With  Venus,  usher  to  the  sun. 
The  trees,  like  yeomen  of  the  guard 
(Serving  her  more  for  pomp  than  ward). 
Ranked  on  each  side,  with  loyal  duty, 
Weav'd  branches  to  inclose  her  beauty. 

«  #  »  *  * 

The  winged  choristers  began 
To  chirp  their  matins,  and  the  fan 
Of  whistling  winds  like  organs  played, 
Until  their  voluntaries  made 
The  wakened  earth  in  odours  rise 
To  be  Usr  nioniing  sqcrifigs, 


28 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Upper  Thames  Street 


'1  he  ilcnvsrs,  CiiU'd  out  of  their  beds, 
Start  and  raise  up  their  drowsie  heads ; 
And  lie  that  for  their  colour  seeks 
May  see  it  vaulting  to  her  cheeks, 
Where  roses  mix  :  no  civil  ■ws.r 
Divides  her  York  and  Lancaster.'' 


Against    the   Scotch   our   poet    discharges    not 
merely  bullets,  but  red-hot  shot : — 

"  Come,  keen  ianibicks,  with  your  badgers'  feet. 
And  bite  like  badgers  till  your  teeth  do  meet : 
Help  ye  tart  satyrists  to  imp  my  rage     . 
With  all  the  scorpions  that  should  whip  this  age. 
Scots  are  like  witches  :  do  but  whet  your  pen, 
Scratch  till  the  blood  gome,  they'll  not  hurt  you  tlien. 

A  land  where  one  nia,y  pray  with  curst  intent. 

Oil,  may  they  never  suffer  banishment ! 

Had  Cain  been  Scot,  God  would  have  changed  his  doom. 

Not  forc'd  him  wander,  but  confined  him  home. 

Like  Jews  they  si^read,  an;i  as  infection  fly,. 

As  if  the  devil  had  ubiquity. 

Hence  'tis  they  livS  as  rovers,  and  defy 

This  or  that  place — rags  of  geography- 


They're  citizens  o'  th'  world,  they're  all  in  all- 
Scotland's  a  nation  epidemical. 
*  «  #  *  *  «  « 

A  Scot,  when  from  the. gallows-tree  got  loose, 
Drops  into  Styx,  and  turns  a  Soland  goose." 

Some  curious  characteristic  touches  on  Cromwell 
are  to  be  found  in  Cleveland's  prose  satires,  as  for 
instance  where  he  says  :  "  But  the  diurnal  is  weaiy 
of  the  arm  of  flesh,  and  now  begins  an  hosanna  to 
Cromwel,  one  that  hath  beat  up  his  drums  clean 
through  the  Old  Testament ;  you  may  learn  the 
genealogy  of  our  Saviour  by  the  names  in  his  regi- 
ment :  the  muster-master  uses  no  other  list  but  the 
first  chapter  of  Matthew.  -This  Crornwel  is  never 
so  valorous  as  when  he  is  making  speeches  for  the 
association,  which,  nevertheless,  he  doth  somewhat 
ominously  with  his  neck  awry,,  holding  up  his  ear 
as  if  he  expected  Mahomet's  pigeon  to  come  g,nd 
.  prompt  him.  He  should  be  a  bird  of  prey,  top, 
by  his  bloody  beak "  (i.e.,  poor  Cromwell's  red 
nose,  the  result  of  ague). 


CHAPTER  IV, 

UPPER   THAMES    STREET  [continued). 

Msrchant  Taylors'  School — Old  Mulcaster — Anecdote  of  Bishop  Andrewes— Celebrated  Men  educated  at  Merchant  Taylors* — St,  James's, 
Garlick  Hythe — Wat  Tyler's  faster — ^The  Steel  Yard — Holbein's  Pictures — Mr.  Ruskin  on  Holbein — The  Rgmans  in  Thames  Street^ 
Roman  Walls — Thames  Street  Tributaries,  North — St.  Bennet,  Paul's  Wharf— St.  Nicholas  Cole  Abbey — Fyefoot  Lane — Paper  Staincrs' 
Hall— Pictures  belonging  to  the  Company — College  Hill — Dowgate — The  Skinners  :  their  Origin  and  History — The  Hall  of  the  Skinners! 
Company — ^Parish  Church  of  St.  Laurence  Poultney — Curious  Epitaphs— Allhallows  the  Gr^at — Swan  Stairs — Dyers'  Hall — Joiners'  Hall— 
Calamy's  Strange  Adventure.       *  .*: 

The  Merchant  Taylors'  School,  so  many  years 
situated  in  Suffolk  Lane,  demands  a  special  notice. 
The  first  intention  of  the  Merchant  Taylors'  Com- 
pany to  found  a  grammar  school,  "for  the  better 
education  and  bringing  up  of  children  iii  good 
manners  and  literature,"  says  Mr.  Staunton,  was 
manifested  in  the  spring  of  1561.  About  this 
period,  a  leading  member  of  the  fraternity,  Mr. 
Richard  Hills,  generously  offered  the  sum  of  ;^5oo 
(equivalent  to  about  ^3,000  at  the  present  day) 
towards  the  purchase  of  a  part  of  the  "  Manor  of 
the  Rose,"  in  the  parish  of  St.  Laurence  Poulteney.' 
The  "  Rose "  was  a  spacious  mansion,  originally 
built  by  Sir  John  Pulteney,  Knight,  five  times 
Lord  Mayor  of  London,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III. 
Its  fortunes  had  been  various.  After  passing 
through  the  hands  of  several  noble  families — the 
Hollands,  De  la  Poles,  Staffords,  and  Courtenays — 
their  tenancies  in  too  many  instances  terminating 
by  the  tragical  process  of  attainder,  it  was  granted 
to  the  Ratcliffe  or  Sussex  family,  who  obtained 
leave  to  part  with  it  in  a  more  business-hk©  manner. 
Shakespeare  has  rendered  the  "  Manor  of  the  Rose," 


or  "  Pulteney's  Inn,"  as  it  was  sometimes  called,  a 
memorable  spot  to  all  time  by  his  allusion  to  it 
in  Ki7ig  Henry  VIII.  In  the  first  act  of  that 
■play,  it  will  be  remembered,  Buckingham's  surveyor 
appears  before  the  court  to  impeach  his  master, 
and  tells  the  king — 

"  Not  long  before  your  Highness  sped  to  France,       ■ 
The  Duke,  being  at  the  Rose,  within  the  parish 
St.  Laurence  Poulteney,  did  of  me  demand 
What  was  the  speech  among  the  Londoners 
Concerning  the  B-rench  journey." 

The  name  of  the  street,  Suffolk  Lane,  from  which 
it  is  entered,  and  of  the  parish,  St.  Laurence  Poult- 
ney, or  Pountney,  in  which  it  is  situated,  still  recalls 
its  former  occupants.  Ducksfoot  Lane,  in  the 
vicinity,  was  the  Duke's  Foot-lane,  or  private  path- 
way from  his  garden,  which  lay  to  the  east  of  the 
mansion,  towards  the  river ;  while  the  upper  part  of 
St.  Laurence  Pounteney  Hill  was,  until  the. last  few 
years,  .called  "  Green  Lettuce  Lanp,"  a  corruption 
of  Green-Lattice  Lane,  so  named  from  the  lattice 
gate  which  opened  into  what  is  now  named  Cannon 
Street. 


upper  Thames  Street.'] 


MERCHANT   TAYLORS'  SCHOOL. 


29 


^  The  Merchant  Taylors'  Company  purchased,  for 

a  school,  in  1561,  part  of  Sussex  House,  including 
a  gate-house,  a  long  court,  a  winding  stair  leading 
to  the  leads  over  the  chapel,  two  galleries  at  the 
south  end  of  the  court,  and  part  of  the  chapel. 
The  remainder  of  the  mansion,  and  the  site  of  the 
garden,  which  lay  to  the  east  of  it,  were  acquired 
by  the  Company  about  i860,  for;^20,ooo,  in  order 
to  enlarge  the  school.  In  1873  they  expended 
the  sum  of  ;^90,ooo  in  purchasing  a  large  portion 
of  the  Charterhouse,  and  thither  the  school  will  be 
moved.  By  the  original  statutes  of  1561  it  w^s 
ordained  that  the  high  master  should  be  "a  man  in 
body  whole,  sober,  discrete,  honest,  vertuous,  and 
learned  in  good  and  cleane  Latin  hterature,  and 
also  in  Greeke,  yf  such  may  be  gotten."  He  might 
be  either  wedded  or  single,  or  a  priest  that  had  no 
benefice.  He  must  have  three  ushers.  The  num- 
ber of  scholars  was  limited  to  250,  "of  all  nations 
and  countries  indifferently."  The  children  of  Jews 
were  afterwards  ungenerously  excluded.  There 
was,  lastly,  to  be  every  year  an  examination  of  the 
scholars. 

■  The  first  head  master  was  that  famed  old  peda- 
gogue, Richard  Mulcaster,  who  wielded  the  ferule, 
and  pretty  sharply  too,  for  many  years.  He  was 
a  Cumberland  man,  brought  up  at  Eton,  and 
renowned  for  his  critical  knowledge  .  of  Greek, 
Latin,  and  Oriental  literature.  A  veritable  old 
Tartar  he  seems  to  have  been,  according  to  Fuller, 
who  says  of  him,  that  he  was  a  severe  disciplina- 
rian, but  beloved  by  his  pupils  when  they  came  to 
the  age  of  maturity,  and  reflected  on  the  benefit 
they  had  derived  from  his  care. 

Mulcaster  was  great  at  Latin  plays,  and  they 
were  often  acted  at  Hampton  Court  and  elsewhere 
before  Queen  Elizabeth.  Many  of  his  boys  who 
went  to  St  John's,  Oxford,  became  renowned  as 
actors  in  Latin  plays  before  Elizabeth  and  James. 
Mulcaster  also  wrote  mythological  verses,  which  were 
recited  before  long-suffering  Queen  Bess,  and  two 
educational  treatises, ,  dry  but  sound.  Tlie  worthy 
old  pedant  had  frequent  quarrels  with  the  Mer- 
chant Taylors,  and  eventually  left  them  in  1586, 
and  became  upper  master  of  St.  Paul's  School. 
To  the  Company,  who  would  have  detained  him, 
he  replied  scornfully,  "  Fidelis  servus  est  perpetuus 
asinus."  He  boldly  resisted  an  attempt  to  tax 
teachers  in  1581-2,  was  successful  in  preserving 
the  immunities  of  the  school  granted  after  the 
Reformation,  and  died  in  1610. 

In  1566  the  school  made  a  tremendous  stride. 
Sir  Thomas  White,  a  princely  Merchant  Taylor, 
founded  St.  John's  College,  Oxford,  and  munifi- 
cently appropriated  no  less  than  forty-three  fellow- 


ships in  the  college  to  the  •scholars  of  Merchant 
Taylors'  School.  Much  quarrelUng  eventually  took 
place  between  the  Company  and  the  President  and 
Fellows  of  St.  John's,  who  delayed,  for  inadequate 
reasons,  the  election  of  scholars,  and  declared  that 
their  funds  were  inadequate  to  support  the  expenses 
of  coming  to  London  every  year  to  the  St.  Bar- 
nabas' Day  examinations. 

The  school  soon  rising  to  eminence,  several  rich 
and  benevolent  citizens  gave  exhibitions  to  poor  and 
struggling  scholars,  a  very  noble  way  of  spending 
money.  The  most  eminent  of  these  were  Walter 
Ffysshe,  John  Vernon,  and  Thomas  Wheatenhole> 
The  school  was  destroyed  in  the  Great  Fire,  when 
only  the  books  in  the  library  were  preserved ;  and 
ten  years  elapsed  before  tire  new  building  was  com- 
pleted. The  new  school,  erected  in  1675,  con- 
sisted of  a  long  school-room,  supported  on  the  east 
side  by  a  number  of  stone  pillars,  forming  a  cloister 
(the  only  play-ground).  The  library  was  formerly 
the  ducal  chapel. 

The  list  of  emiflent  men  educated  at  the  Mer- 
chant Taylors'  is  a  proud  one.  It  boasts  of  William 
Juxon,  Bishop  of  London,  and,  after  the  Restora- 
tion, Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  who  faithfiiUy 
attended  Charles  I.  on  the  scaffold ;  William  Dawes 
and  John  Gilbert,  Archbishops  of  York ;  and  Hugh 
Boulter,  Archbishop  of  Armagh. 

Among  these  bishops  was  that  eminent  scholar 
and  divine,  Bishop  Andrewes,  before  whom  even 
James  I.  dared  not  indulge  in  ribaldry.  He  de- 
fended King  James's  "Defence  of  the  Rights  of 
Kings "  against  Cardinal  Bellarmine,  and  in  return 
obtained  the  see  of  Ely. 

There  i§  a  pleasant  story  told  of  Andrewes  while 
he  was  Bishop  of  Winchester.  Waller  the  poet, 
going  to  see  the  king  at  dinner,  overheard  an  extra- 
ordinary conversation  between  his  Majesty  and  two 
prelates,  Andrewes  and  Neale  (Bishop  of  Durham), 
who  were  standing  behind  the  royal  chair.  "  My 
lords,"  asked  the  king,  "  cannot  I  take  my  subjects' 
money  when  I  want  it  without  all  this  formality 
in  Parliament?"  The  Bishop  of  Durham  readily 
answered,  "  God  forbid,  sir,  but  you  should ;  you 
are  the  breath  of  our  nostrils."  Whereupon  the 
king  turned  and  said  to  the  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
"Well,  my  lord,  what  say  you?"  "Sir,"  replied 
he,  "I  have  no  skill  to  judge  of  parliamentary 
cases."  The  king  quickly  rejoined,  "  No  put-offs, 
my  lord ;  answer  me  at  once."  "  Then,  sir,"  said 
he,  "I  think  it  quite  lawful  for  you  to  take  my 
brother  Neale's  money,  for  he  offers  it."  Waller 
reports  that  the  company  v/ere  well  pleased  with 
the  answer,  and  the  wit  of  it  seemed  to  affect 
the  king. 


3f> 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


lUpper  Thames  Street. 


The  list  of  Merchant  Taylor  bishops  also  includes 
Thomas  Dove,  Bishop  of  Peterborough,  chaplain 
to  Queen  Elizabeth,  who,  from  his  flowing  white 
locks,  called  him  the  "Dove  with  silver  wings j'' 
Matthew  Wren,  Bishop  of  Ely,  Sir  Christopher's 
uncle,  who  accompanied  Prince  Charles  to  Spain, 
and  was  imprisoned  in  the  Tower  eighteen  years, 
refusing  to  come  out  on  Cromwell's  offer ;  John 
Buckridge,  also  Bishop  of  Ely ;  Giles  Thompson, 
Bishop  of  Gloucester ;  and  Peter  Mews,  Bishop  of 


and-thirty  children."  Other  pupils  of  the  school 
were  Thomas  Lodge,  the  physician  and  dramatist, 
who  wrote  a  novel,  "  Rosalynde,"  on  which  Shake- 
speare founded  his  As  You  Like  It;  James  Shirley, 
the  author  of  thirty-seven  plays,  who  died  of  grief 
at  being  ruined  by  the  Great  Fire;  Edmund 
Gayton;  Sir  Edwin  Sandys,  trat^eller,  and  author 
of  "  Europse  Speculum;"  William  Sherard,  founder 
of  the  Oxford  professorship  of  botany  which  bears 
his  name;   Peter  le  Neve,  Norroy  Kingat-Arms, 


THE   MERCHANT  TAYLORS      SCHOOL,    SUFFOLK  LANE, 


Winchester,  who,  expelled  Oxford  by  the  Puritans, 
entered  the  army,  and  served  under  the  Duke  of 
York  in  Flanders. 

Of  the  other  professions.  Sir  James  Whitelocke, 
Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas  and  of  the  King's. 
Bench ;  Bulstrode  Whitelocke,  his  son,  the  author 
of  the  "Memorials  of  English  Affairs,  from  the 
Beginning  of  the  Reign  of  Charles  II.  to  the 
Restoration,"  were  Merchant  Taylors'  scholars. 
Whitelocke,  the  son,  a  but  half-and-half  Crom- 
wellian,  began  life  by  supporting  Hampden  in  his 
resistance  to  ship-money,  and  afterwards  served 
Cromwell  with  more  or  less  fidelity.  At  the 
Restoration  Charles  II.  dismissed  him  to-go  into 
the  country,  and  "  take  care  of  his  wife  and  one- 


an  eminent  genealogist,  and  one  of  the  earliest 
presidents  of  the  Antiquarian  Society;  Samuel 
Harris,  first  professor  of  modern  history  at  Cam- 
bridge ;  Daniel  Neale,  who  wrote  the  "  History  of 
the  Puritans ;"  Henry  Woodward,  the  famous  actor ; 
John  Byrom;  James  Townley,  afterwards  head 
master  of  the  school ;  Robert,  the  first  Lord  Clive ; 
John  Latham,  author  of  the  "History  of  Birds;" 
Vicesimus  Knox,  who  wrote  the  well-knoWn  book 
called  "  Knox's  Essays ;"  Joshua  Brookes,  the  most 
eminent  anatomist  of  his  time ;  Charles  Mathews 
the  elder,  and  his  son,  the  present  Charles  James 
Mathews,  the  popular  comedians ;  Chai-les  Young, 
the  favourite  tragedian ;  Sir  Henry  EUis,  formerly 
librarian  to  the  British  Museum ;  Henry  Cline,  the 


Upper  f  haraes  Street] 


MERCHANT*  TAYLORS*  SCHOLARS. 


Iiifiiliiif 


mm 


:.;.!;!  fe 


IK 


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I   l;iiit|!(iyil!'!f>;ii|'il  I      l''!/?]'' 

1  i.i'''  Viif  rr;''i         ' 

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lliliiP  f  "f/r'l 


32 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Upper  Thames  Street. 


great  surgeon  at  St.  Thomas's  Hospital;  Dixon 
Denham,  the  African  traveller ;  Philip  Bliss,  editor 
of  Wood's  "Athense  Oxon.j"  John  Gough  Nichols, 
the  antiquary;  Sir  Samuel  Shepherd,  Lord  Chief 
Baron  of  Scodand  (1828) ;  Sir  R.  B.  Comyn,  Lord 
Chief  Justice  of  Madras;  Right  Hon.  Sir  John 
Dodson,  Judge  of  the  Prerogative  Court ;  Edward 
Bond,  Chief  Keeper  of  Manuscripts  in  the  British 
Museum ;  Samuel  Birch,  Keeper  of  the  Oriental 
and  Mediaeval  Antiquities  at  the  British  Museum ; 
and  the  late  Albert  Smith. 

St.  James's,  Garlick  Hythe,  was  rebuilt  by  Richard 
Rothing,  Sherifif,  in  1326.  Weever,  that  "OH 
Mortality  "  of  his  times,  gives  the  epitaph  of  Richard 
Lions,  a  wine  merchant  and  lapidary,  who  was 
beheaded  by  Wat  Tyler's  men,  and  buried  here*. 
According  to  Grafton  the  chronicler,  Wat  Tyler 
had  been  once  servant  to  this  merchant,  who  had 
beaten  him,  and  this  was  the  Kentish  rebel's  re- 
venge. .  Stow  says  of  this  monument  of  Richard  II.'s 
time — "Richard  Lions,  a  famous  merchant  of 
wines  and  a  lapidary,  some  time  one  of  the  sheriffs, 
beheaded  in  Cheap  by  Wat  Tyler  and  other  rebels, 
in  the  year  1381 :  his  picture  on  his  grave-stone, 
very  fair  and  large,  is  with  his  hair  rounded  by  his 
ears  and  curled,  a  little  beard  forked ;  a  gown,  girt 
to  him  down  to  his  feet,  of  branched  damask, 
wrought  with  the  likeness  of  flowers ;  a  large  purse 
on  his  right  side,  hanging  in  a  belt  from  his  left, 
shoulder;  a  plain  hood  about  his  neck,  covering 
his  shoulders,  and  hanging  back  behind  him.'' 

Destroyed  in  the  Great  Fire,  this  church  was 
rebuilt  by  Wren  at  an  expense  of  ;^5,357  12s.  rod. 
The  coarse  altar-piece  of  the  Ascension  was  painted 
by  A.  Geddes,  and  given  to  the  church  in  1815  by 
the  rector,  the  Rev.  T.  Burnet,  brother  of  the, 
eminent  engraver.  The  organ  was  buUt  by  the 
celebrated  Father  Smith  in  1697.  On  the  dial, 
which  projects  from  the  face  of  the  church,  is  a 
carved  figure  of  St.  James.  In  a  vault  beneath  the 
church  lies  the  corpse  of  a  man  in  a  singular  state  of 
preservation.  Four  or  five  medieval  lord  mayors 
are  buried  in  this  church.    , 

In  the  Spectator  (No.  147)  there  is  an  interesting 
notice  of  St.  James's,  GarUck  Hythe.  -Steele, 
speaking  of  the  beautiful  service  of  the  Church  of 
England,  remarks — "Until  Sunday  was  se'nnight, 
I  never  discovered,  to  so  great  a  degree,^the  excel- 
lency of  the  Common  Prayer.  Being  at  St.  James's 
Church,  Garlick  Hill,  I  heard  the  service  read  so 
distinctly,  so  emphatically,  and  so  fervently,  that  it 
was  next  to  an  impossibility  to  be  inattentive.  My 
eyes  and  my  thoughts  could  not  wander  as  usual, 
but  were  confined  to  my  prayers.  .  .  The'Con- 
fession  was  read  with  such  a  resigned  humility,  the 


Absolution  with  such  a  comfortable  authority,  the 
Thanksgiving  with  such  a  religious  joy,  as  made 
me  feel  those  affections  of  the  mind  in  a  manner 
I  never  did  before."  The  rector  of  the  parish  at 
this  period  was  the  Rev.  Philip  Stubbs,  afterwards 
Archdeacon  of  St.  Albans,  whose  fine  voice  and 
impressive  delivery  are  said  to  have  been  long 
remembered  by  his  old  parishioners. 

The  Steel  Yard,  on  the  river-side,  near  Cousin 
Lane  (now  Iron  Wharf),  was  the  old  residence  of 
the  Hanse  Town,  German,  and  Flemish  merchants, 
who  obtained  a  settlement  in  London  as  early  as 
1250.  Henry  III.,  in  1259,  at  the  request  of  his 
brother  Richard,  Earl  of  Cornwall  and  King  of  the 
Romans,  granted  them  very  valuable  privileges, 
renewed  and  confirmed  by  Edward  I.  The  City 
also  conceded  them  many  privileges,  on  condition  of 
their  maintaining  Bishopsgate  in  repair  (they  rebuilt 
it  once),  and  sustaining  a  third  of  the  charges  in 
money  and  men  to  defend  it  when  need  was.  In 
spite  of  English  jealousy,  the  Steel  Yard  merchants 
flourished  till  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  when  the. 
Merchant  Adventurers  complained  of  them,  and 
they  were , held,  like  all  "other  strangers,"  to  have 
forfeited  their  liberties.  In  vain  Hamburg  and 
Lubeck  sent  ambassadors  to  intercede  for  their 
countrymen.  Their  monopoly  was  gone,  but  the 
Steel  Yard  men  still  throve,  and  continued  to 
export  English  cloth.  Elizabeth,  howeva',  was 
rougher  with  them,  and  finally  expelled  them  the 
country  in  1597-8. 

"  Their  hall,"  says  Stow,  "  is  large,  built  of  stone, 
with  three  arched  gates  towards  the  street,  the 
middlemost  whereof  is  far  bigger  than  the  others, 
and  is  seldom  opened;  the  other  two  be  secured 
up.  The  same  is  now  called  the  old  hall.  The 
merchants  of  Almaine  used  to  bring  hither  as  well 
whea,t,  rye,  and  other  grain,  as  cables,  ropes,  masts, 
pitch,  tajr,  flax,  hemp,  linen  cloth,  wainscots,  wax, 
steel,  and  other  profitable  merchandise." 

In  the  Privy  Council  Register  of  the  year  1597-8, 
Mr.  Peter  Cunningham  discovered  an  entry  ap- 
pointing the  Steel  Yard  as  a  house  "  for  the  better 
bestowing  and  safe  custody  of  divers  provisions  of 
the  navy  (naval  stores)." 

"In  the  hall  of  this  Company,"  says  Pennant, 
"were  the  two  famous  pictures,  painted  in  dis- 
temper by  Holbein,  representing  the  triumphs  of 
Riches  and  Poverty.  They  were  lost,  being  sup- 
posed to  have  been  carried  into  Flanders,  on  the 
destruction  of  the  Company,  and  from  thence  into 
France.  I  am  to  learn  where  they  are  at  present, 
unless  in  the  cabinet  of  M.  Fleischman,  at  Hesse- 
Darmstadt.  The  celebrated  Christian  a  Mechel,  of 
Basil,  has  lately  published  two  engravings  of  these 


Upper  Thames  Street.] 


HOLBEIN   IN   THE   STEEL   YARD. 


33 


pictures,  either  from  the  originals,  or  the  drawings 
of  Zucchero,  for  'Frid.  Zucchero,  1574,'  is  at  one 
corner  of  eaph  print.  Drawings  of  these  pictures 
were  found  in  England  by  Vertue,  ascribed  to 
Holbein,  and  the  verses  over  them  to  Sir  Thomas 
More.  It  -appears  that  Zucchero  copied  them  at 
the  Steel  Yard,  so  proba;bly  these  copies,  in  pro- 
cess of  time,  might  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
M.  Fleischman. 

"  In  the  triumph  of  Riches,  Plutus  is  represented 
in  a  golden  car,  and  Fortune  sitting  before  him, 
flinging  money  into  the  laps  of  people  holding  up 
their  garments  to  receive  her  favours.  Ventidius  is 
wrote  under  one,  Gadareus  under  another,  and 
Themistocles  under  a  man  kneeling  beside  the  car ; 
Croesus,  Midas,  and  Tantalus  follow;  Narcissus 
holds  the  horse  of  the  first ;  over  their  heads,  in  the 
clouds,  is  Nemesis.  There  are  various  allegorical 
figures  I  shall  not  attempt  to  explain.  By  the  side 
of  the  horses  walk  dropsical  and  other  diseased 
figures,  the  too  frequent  accompaniment  of  riches. 

"  Poverty  appears  in  another  car,  mean  and  shat- 
tered, half  naked,  squaUd,  and  meagre.  Behind 
her  sits  Misfortune;  befoije  her.  Memory,  Experi- 
ence, Industry,  and  Hope.  The  car  is  drayfu  by 
a  pair  of  oxen  and  a  pair  of  asses ;  Diligence  drives 
the  ass,  and  Solicitude,  with  a  face  of  care,  goads 
the  ox.  By  the  sides  of  the  car  walks  Labour, 
represented  by  lusty  workmen  with  their  tools, 
with  cheerful  looks ;  and  behind  them,  Misery  and 
Beggary,  in  ragged  weeds,  and  with  countenances 
replete  with  wretchedness  and  discontent." 

According  to  Mr.  Wornum  (a  most  competent 
authority),  in  his  excellent  "  Life  of  Holbein,'"  these 
two  pictures  were  presented,  in  1617,  by  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Steel  Yard  merchants  to  Henry 
Prince  of  Wales,  a  well-known  lover  of  art  They 
afterwards  passed  into  the  possession  of  Charles  I., 
and  are  said  to  have  perished  in  the  fire  at  White- 
hall, 1698.  Felibien,  however,  in  1661,  describes 
having  seen  them  in  Paris ;  and  it  is  more  pro- 
bable they  were  among  the  art-treasures  sold  and 
dispersed  in  Cromwell's  time.  Sandrart  mentions 
having  seen  the  pictures,  or  drawings  of  them,  in  the 
Long  Gallery  at  Arundel  House.  .  Zucchero  copied 
them  in  1574,  and  Vosterman  Junior  engraved 
them.  Vertue  describes  drawings  of  them  at 
Buckingham  House  in  black  and  white  chalk,  with 
coloured  skies,  which  he  supposes  to  beVoster- 
man's  copies.  Horace  Walpole,  however,  who 
purchased  them,  considered  one  drawing  only  to 
be  Vosterman's,  and  the  other  to  be  Zucchero's. 
The  British  Museum  possesses  copies  of  these 
pictures  by  Bischop,  a  Dutch  artist,  and  a  sketch 
of  the  "  Riches,"  done  by  Holbein  himself,  drawn 


with  the  pen  and  washed  with  Indian  ink.  On  the 
"Riches"  of  Bischop  are  written  two  lines  on 
the  penalties  of  wealth,  attributed  to  Sir  Thomas 
More—  I 

"  Aurutn  blanditiae  pater  est  nfe.tusque  doloris, 
Qui  caret  hoc  moeret,  qui  tenet  hoc  metuit." 

These  lines  were  originally  inscribed  over  the 
entrance  of  the  Steel  Yard. 

On  a  tablet  suspended  to  a  tree,  in  the  picture 
representing  "  Poverty,"  is  a  Latin  line,  also  attri- 
buted to  More,  as  the  reward  of  poverty — 

"  Qui  pauper  est,  nihil  timet,  nihil  potest  perdere." 

Holbein,  on  his'  return  to  London  from  Basel,  in 
i53r,  seems  to  have  painted  ma'py  portraits  of  his 
fellow-countrymen  in  the  Steel  Yard.  Mr.  Wornum 
especially  mentions  a  nameless  member  of  the 
Stahlhof  in  the  Windsor  collection.  It  represents 
a  young  man  with  a  brown  beard,  clad  in  a  black 
cap  and  furred  surtout^  who,  seated  at  a  table,  is 
about  to  open  a  letter  by  cutting  the  string  that 
fastens  it  with  a  knife.  The  letter  is  inscribed 
"Stahlhof."  But  the  most  celebrated  picture  of 
this  class  is  the  "  George  Gyze,"  in  the  Berlin 
gallery.  He  is  also  about  to  open  a  letter  in- 
scribed "  To  the  Honourable  George  Gyze,  in 
London,  in '  England,  my  brother,  to  be  delivered 
into  his  hands,"  Mr.  Ruskin  has  adorned  this  pic- 
ture with  the  rich  enamel  of  his  well-chosen  words, 
"  Every  accessory,"  he  says,  "  in  the  portrait  of  the 
Kauffmann  George  Gyzen  is  perfect  with  a  fine 
perfection ;  the  carnations  in  the  glass  vase  by.his 
side ;  the  ball  of  gold,  chased  with  blue  enamel, 
suspended  on  the  wall ;  the  books,  the  steelyard, 
the  papers  on  the  table,  the  seal-ring,  with  its 
quartered  bearings,  all  intensely  there,  and  there 
in  beauty  of  which  no  one  could  have ,  dreamed 
that  even  flowers  or  gold  were  capable,  far  less  parch- 
ment or  steel.  But  every  change  of  shade  is  felt, 
every  rich  and  rubied  line  of  petal  followed,  every 
subdued  gleam  in  the  soft  blue  of  the  enamel,  and  ' 
bending  of  the  gold,  touched  with  a  hand  whose 
patience  of  regard  creates  rather  than  paints.  The 
jewel  itself  was  not  so  precious  as  the  rays  of  en- 
during light  which  form  it,  beneath  that  errorless 
hand.  The  man  himself,  what  he  was — not  more ; 
but  to  all  conceivable  proof  of  sight — in  all  aspect 
of  life  or  thought — not  less.  He  sits  alone  in  his 
accustomed  room,  his  common  work  laid  out  before 
him  ;  he  is  conscious  of  no  presence,  assumes  no 
dignity,  bears  no  sudden  or  superficial  look  of  care 
or  interest,  lives  only  as  he  lived — but  for  ever. 

"  It  is  inexhaustible.  Every  detail  of  it  wins, 
retains,  rewards  the  attention,  with  a  continually 
increasing   sense  of  wonderfulness.     It  is    also 


34 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Upper  Thames  Street. 


wholly  true.  So  far  as  it  reaches,  it  contains  the 
absolute  facts  of  colour,  form,  and  character,  ren- 
dered with  an  unaccusable  faithfulness.  .  .  . 
What  of  this  man  and  his  house  were  visible  to 
Holbein  are  visible  to  us ;  .  .  .  if  we  care  to 
know  anything  concerning  them,  great  or  small, 
so  much  as  may  by  the  eye  be  known,  is  for  ever 
knowable,  reliable,  indisputable." 

The  original  toll  of  the  Steel  Yard  merchants 
was,  at  Christmas  and  Easter,  two  grey  cloths  and 
one  brown  one,  with  ten  pounds  of  pepper,  five 
pairs  of  gloves,  and  two  vessels  of  vinegar.  They 
had  a  special  alderman  for  their  judge,  and  they 
were  to  be  free  from  all  subsidies  to  the  king. 

According  to  Mr.  Hudson  Turner,  the  Steel 
Yard  derived  its  name  not  from  the  steel  imported 
by  the  Hanse  merchants,  but  from  the  king's  steel 
yard  here  erected,  to  weigh  the  tonnage  of  all 
goods  imported  into  London,  the  tonnage-office 
being  afterwards  transferred  to  the  City.  The 
king's  beam  was  moved,  first  to  Cornhill,  and  then 
to  Weigh  House  Yard,  Little  Eastcheap. 

"At  this  time,"  says  Pennant  (in  1790),  "the 
Steel  Yard  is  the  great  repository  of  the  imported 
iron  which  furnishes  our  metropolis  with  that  neces- 
sary material.  The  quantity  of  bars  that  fill  the 
yards  and  warehouses  of  this  quarter  strike  with 
astonishment  the  most  indifferent  beholder.  Next 
to  the  water-side  are  two  eagles  with  imperial  crowns 
round  their  necks,  placed  on  two  columns." 

In  few  streets  of  London  Ij^ve  more  Roman 
remains  been  found  than  in  Thames  Street.  In 
1839,  in  excavating  the  ground  for  rebuilding  Dyers' 
Hall,  in  College  Street,  Dowgate  Hill,  at  thirteen 
feet  eight  inches  below  the  level  of  the  street,  and 
just  above  the  gravel,  the  remains  were  found  of  a 
Roman  pavement,  formed  of  small  pieces  of  tiles 
about  an  inch  square,  bedded  apparently  on  fine 
concrete ;  two  thin  earthen  jars  or  bottles  were 
also  found  near  the  same  spot;  and  two  coins, 
nearly  obliterated.  The  lower  part  of  the  ground 
in  which  the  above  were  discovered,  for  four  feet  six 
inches  in  thickness,  appeared  to  be  the  sediment 
or  earthy  matter  from  water,  probably  from  the 
ancient  Walbrook ;  and  in  it,  scattered  over  the 
surface,  was  a  large  quantity — bventy  hundred 
weight — of  animal  bones. 

A  fibula  or  brooch  was  found  in  April  (1831), 
in  an  excavation  in  Thames  Street,  at  the  foot  of 
Dowgate  Hill.  The  circular  enamelled  work  in 
the  centre  was  of  a  very  peculiar  description ;  the 
outlines  of  the  features  of  a  portrait,  and  those 
of  the  mantle  and  tunic  on  the  bust  (together 
with  the  nimbus  or  crown  round  the  head)  were 
executed  in  gold,  into  which  enamel  appeared  to 


have  been  worked  when  in  a  fluid  or  soft  state. 
The  colours  of  the  enamel  were  yellow,  blue,  purple, 
red,  and  white.  This  work  was  surrounded  by  a 
rich  filagree  border  of  gold,  beautifully  worked,  in 
which  were  inserted,  at  equal  distances,  four  large 
pearls.  Nothing  has  hitherto  been  found  that  could 
be  compared  to  this  jewel;  the  gold-work  inter- 
woven with  the  enamel  was  new  to  every  one.  The 
general  character,  design,  and  ornamental  gold- 
work,  seemed  Byzantine,  and  somewhat  assimilated 
to  the  style  of  art  of  the  time  of  Charlemagne ;  so 
that  perhaps  we  should  not  be  far  wrong  in  assigning 
its  date  to  the  ninth  or  tenth  century. 

As  to  the  old  river-side  ramparts  in  Thames  Street, 
Mr.  Roach  Smith,  one  of  the  best-informed  anti- 
quaries on  Roman  London,  writing  in  1841,  says — 

"  The  line  of  the  wall  on  the  land  side  is  well 
ascertained ;  of  that  portion  which  Fitzstephens 
informs  us  bounded  the  City  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thames,  many  persons  have  hitherto  been  in 
doubt,  though  without  reason.  At  the  same  time 
what  Fitzstephens  adds  relative  to  this  wall  on  the 
water-side  being  overturned  and  destroyed  by  the 
water,  seems  altogether  erroneous  and  improbable, 
as  the  Roman  masonry  is  well  known  to  be  im- 
pervious to  the  action  of  that  element.  The 
present  Thames  Street  follows  the  line  of  the 
Roman  wall. 

"In  1840  some  valuable  contributions  to  our 
scanty  topographical  materials  were  furnished, 
which  confirm  the  account  given  us  of  the  line  of 
the  wall,  by  the  before-mentioned  author.  The 
excavations  for  sewerage,  which  led  to  the  discovery 
I  am' about  to  deta,il,  commenced  at  Blackfriars. 
The  workmen  having  advanced  without  impedi- 
ment to  the  foot  of  Lambeth  Hill,  were  there 
checked  by  a  wall  of  extraordinary  strength,  which 
formed  an  angle  with  the  Hill  and  Thames  Street. 
Upon  this  wall  the  contractor  for  the  sewers  was 
obliged  to  open  his  course  to  the  depth  of  about 
twenty  feet ;  so  that  the  greater  portion  of  the 
structure  had  to  be  overthro^vn,  to  the  great  con- 
sumption of  time  and  labour.  The  delay  occa- 
sioned by  the  solidity  and  thickness  of  this  wall 
gave  us  an  opportunity  of  making  careful  notes  as 
to  its  construction  and  courses. 

"  It  extends  (as  far  as  I  had  the  means  of  ob- 
serving) from  Lambeth  Hill  to  Queenhithe,  with 
occasional  breaks.  In  thickness  it  measured  from 
eight  to  ten  feet.  The  height  from  the  bottom  of 
the  sewer  was  about  eight  feet,  in  some  places,  more 
or  less  ;  it  reached  to  within  about  nine  feet  from 
the  present  street,  and  three  from  that  which  indi- 
cates the  period  of  the  Fire  of  London,  in  this 
district  easily  recognisec}.      lo  some  places  the 


Upper  Thames  Sti-eet.] 


THE  ROMANS  IN  THAMES  STREET. 


35 


ground-work  of  the  houses  destroyed  by  the -Fire  of 
1666  abut  on  the  wall. 

"The  foundation  was  made  in  the  following 
manner : — Oaken  piles  were  first  used ;  upon  these 
was  laid  a  stratum  of  chalk  and  stones,  and  then  a 
course  of  hewn  sandstones,  from  three  to  four  feet 
by  two  and  two  and  a-half,  firmly  cemented  with 
the  well-known  compound  of  quick-lime,  sand,  and 
pounded  tile.  Upon  tliis  solid  substructure  was 
built  the  wall,  composed  of  rag  and  flint,  with 
layers  of  red  and  yellow,  plain  and  curved-edged 
tiles.  The  mortar  throughout  was  quite  equal  in 
strength  to  the  tiles,  from  which  it  could  not  be 
separated  by  force. 

"  One  of  the  most  remarkable  features  of  this  wall 
is  the  evidence  it  affords  of  the  existence  of  an 
anterior  building,  which,  from  some  cause  or  other, 
must  have  been  destroyed.      Many  of  the  large 
stones  above  mentioned  are  sculptured  and  orna- 
mented with  mouldings,  which  denote  their  prior 
use  in  a  frieze  or  entablature  of  an  edifice,  the  mag- 
nitude of  which  may  be  conceived  from  the  fact  of 
these  stones  weighing,  in  many  instances,  half  a 
ton.     Whatever  might  have  been  the  nature  of  this 
structure,  its  site,  or  cause  of  its  overthrow,  we  have 
no  means  of  determining.     The  probability  of  its 
destruction  having  been  effected  by  the  insurgent 
Britons  under  Boadicea  suggests  itself.     I  observed 
also  that  fragments  of  sculptured  marble  had  been 
worked  into  the  wall,  and  also  a  portion  of  a  stone 
carved  with  an  elegant  ornament  of  the  trellis-work 
pattern,  the  compartments  being  filled  alternately 
with  leaves  and  fruit.    This  has  apparently  belonged 
to  an  altar.      In  Thames   Street,  opposite  Queen 
Street,  about  two  years  since,  a  wall  precisely  similar 
in  general  character  was  met  with,  and  there  is  but 
little  doubt  of  its  having  originally  formed  part  of 
the  same. 

"  In  the  middle  of  Pudding  Lane,  running  to  the 
bottom,  and,  as  the  workmen  told  me,  even  across 
Thames  Street,  is  a  strong  wall  formed  of  layers  of 
red  and  yellow  tiles  and  rag-stones,  which  appeared 
to  have  appertained  to  a  building  of  considerable 
extent.  The  hypocaust  belonging  thereto  was 
partly  laid  open. 

"  In  Queen  Street,  near  Thames  Street,  several 
walls  crossed  the  street ;  among  them  were  found 
two  thin  bands  of  pure  gold,  apparently  used  for 
armlets ;  and  midway,  opposite  Well  Court,  at  the 
depth  of  thirteen  feet,  was  a  flooring  of  red  tesserse, 
fourteen  feet  square.  Three  or  four  feet  above 
ran''  chalk  walls,  such  as  are  met  with  throughout 
London,  which,  of  course,  are  subsequent  to  the 
Roman  epoch. 

"  Advancing  up  Bush  Lane,  several  walls  of  con- 


siderable thickness  were   crossed,  which,  together 
with   abundance    of   fresco-paintings,   portions   of 
tessellated    pavements   arid    tiles,   betokened   the 
former  appropriation  of  the  site  for  dwelling-houses. 
But  opposite  Scot's  Yard  a  formidable  wall  of  extra- 
ordinary thickness  was  found  to  cross  the  street 
diagonally.     It  measured  in  width  twenty  feet.     It 
was  built  of  flints  and  rags,  with  occasional  masses 
of  tiles.     On  the  north  side,  however,  there  was 
such  a  preponderance  of  flints,  and  on  the  south 
such   a  marked  excess  of  ragstone,  as  to  justify 
raising  a  question  as  to  whether  one  half  might  not 
have  been  constructed  at  a  period  subsequent  to 
the  other,  though  the  reason  for  an  addition  to  a 
ten-foot  wall  is  not  apparent.     So  firmly  had  time 
solidified  the  mortar  and  ripened  its  power,  that 
the  labourers,  in  despair  of  being,  able  to  demoUsh 
the  wall,  were  compelled  literally  to  drill  a  tunnel 
through  it  to  admit  the  sewer.     Whatever  might 
have  been   the   original   destination  of  this  wall, 
whether  it  formed  part  of  a  public  building  or  a 
citadel,  it  must  have  been  perverted  from  its  primary 
destination   at   some    period    during  the   Roman 
dynasty.     The  excavation  was  carried  to  the  depth 
of  fifteen  feet,  the  remains  of  the  wall  appearing  six 
feet  below  the  street  level.     Adjoining  the  north 
side  of  the  wall,  and  running  absolutely  upon  it, 
was  a  pavement  of  white  tesserae,  together  with  a 
flooring  of  lime  and  pounded  tiles,  supporting  the 
tiles  of  a  hypocaust,  in  rows  of  about  one  dozen, 
two  feet  apart. 

"  In  Scot's  Yard,  opposite  the  great  wall,  at  the 
depth  of  eight  feet,  was  another  wall,  eight  feet 
thick,  composed  entirely  of  the  oblong  tiles  and 
mortar.  It  descended  to  the  depth  of  thirteen  feet, 
where,  alongside,  were  pavements  of  lime  and  gravel, 
such,  in  fact,  as  are  used  as  substrata  for  tessellse, 
and  are  still,  in  many  parts  of  the  country,  employed 
for  the  floorings  of  barns." 

Having  now  visited  the  chief  spots  of  interest  in 
Upper  Thames  Street,  let  us  note  the  chief  tribu- 
taries north,  for  those  south  are,  for  the  most  part, 
alleys  leading  to  wharves.  The  first.  Addle  Hill, 
like  the  street  before  inentioned  by  us  in  Alder- 
mahbury,  bears  a  Saxon  name,  either  referring  to 
King  Athelstan  or  to  the  nobles  who  once  dwelt 
there. 

St.  Bennet,  Paul's  Wharf,  is  a  small  church 
rebuilt  by  Wren  after  the  Great  Fire.  Stow  men- 
tions the  burial  here  of  Edmund  Denny,  Baron  of 
the  Exchequer,  whose  learned  son,  Anthony,  was 
gentleman  of  the  bedchamber  to  Henry  VIII.  By 
his  will  the  Baron  desired  twenty-eight  trentals  of 
masses  to  be  said  for  his  soul  and  the  souls  of 
his  father,  mother,  and  three  wives.     In  this  quiet 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON- 


[Upper  Thames  Street. 


and  unpretending  river-side  church  lies  buried 
Inigo  Jones,  the  architect  of  the  adjoining  St.  Paul's 
(165s).  His  monument,  for  which  he  left  ;^ioo, 
was  destroyed  in  the  Great  Fire,  that  also  destroyed 
his  work  at  St.  Paul's.  Many  of  the  hair-splitting 
advocates  of  Doctors'  Commons,  and  laborious 
heralds  from  Heralds'  College,  are  also  interred  in 
this  tranquil  spot.  We  may  mention  Sir  William 
Le  Neve  (Clarencieux),  a  friend  of  Ashmole;  John 
Philpott  (Somerset  Herald),  who  spent  many  dusty 


ford  about  1234.  There  was  a  Bishop  of  Hereford 
buried  here,  as  well  as  one  in  the  church  of  St.  Mary 
Somerset,  also  now  removed.  People  living  close 
by  have  already  forgotten  the  very  names  of  the 
churches. 

Concerning  one  of  the  Fish  Street  Hill  churches, 
St.  Mary  Magdalen,  Stow  records  nothing  of  interest, 
except  that  near  it  was  a  lane  called  Dolittle  Lane, 
and  another  called  Sermon  or  Shiremoniars  Lane, 
from  the  Black  Loft  where,  in  the  time  of  Edward  I., 


CHAPEL   OF   MERCHANT  TAYLORS*   SCHOOL. 


days  over  "  Camden's  Remaines ;"  and,  in  the  north 
aisle,  William  Oldys  (Norroy),  the  herald  whose 
eccentricities  and  love  of  humming  ale  we  have 
described  in  a  former  chapter.  The  living  is  a 
rectory,  in  the  gift  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of 
St.  Paul's. 

Boss  Alley  is  so  called,  says  Stow,  from  a  boss 
of  water  (small  conduit  or  tap)  there  placed  by  the 
executor  of  Richard  V/hittington,  who  was  buried 
hard  by. 

In  Lambeth  Hill  is  a  warehouse  once  the  Black- 
smiths' Hall.  The  church  of  St.  Mary  Mounthaw, 
close  by,  was  originally  a  chapel  of  the  Mounthaws, 
an  old  Norfolk  family,  who  lived  on  Old  Fish  Street 
Hill,  and  sold  their  house  to  the  Bishops  of  Here- 


the  king's  minters  melted  silver.  Old  Fish  Street 
Hill  and  its  antecedents  we  have  already  glanced 
at  in  our  chapter  on  the  Fishmongers'  Company. 
It  was  the  early  fish  market  of  London  before 
Billingsgate.  The  stalls,  says  Stow,  first  grew  to 
shops,  then  gradually  to  tall  houses.  The  change 
of  garden  stalls  into  shops  may  be  very  well  seen 
in  our  suburban  roads.  Sir  WilUam  Davenant,  the 
author  of  "  Gondibert,"  describes  the  odours  of  Fish 
Street  Hill  with  much  unction. 

St.  Nicholas  Cole  Abbey,  situate  on  the  south 
side  of  Old  Fish  Street,  in  the  ward  of  Queenhithe, 
was  named  from  Cole  Abbey,  from  Golden  Abbey,  or 
from  Cold-Abbey  or  Cold-by,  from  its  cold  or  bleak 
situation.     John  Brand  was  rector  before  the  year 


Upper  Thames  Street.] 


THE   PAINTER-STAINERS*  COMPANY. 


37 


1383.  In  1560  Queen  Elizabeth  granted  the 
patronage  thereof  to  Thomas  Reeve  and  George 
Evelyn,  and  their  heirs  in  soccage,  who  conveying 
it  to  otliers,  it  came  at  last  to  the  family  of  the 
Hackers ;  one  whereof  was  Colonel  Francis  Hacker, 
commander  of  the  guard  that  guarded  Charles  I. 
to  and  from  his  trial,  and  at  last  to  the  scaifold ; 
for  which,  after  the  Restoration,  he  was  executed. 
This  church  was  destroyed  in  1666,  and  handsomely 
rebuilt,  and  the  parish  of  St.  Nicholas  Olave  there- 


fraternity  prior  to  1580,  although  it  had  no  charter 
of  incorporation  before  that  year.  The  company 
of  skilled  craftsmen  seems  to  have  laboured  hard 
to  obtain  authority  over  London  artists,  forgetful  of 
the  fact  that  graining  a  door  has  no  very  near  con- 
nection with  the  art  of  Raphael.  Yet,  no  doubt, 
there  was  a  time  when  the  illuminator  and  the 
house  painter  were  considered  kinsmen,  and  it  were 
well  that  there  was  more  sympathy  now  between 
the  higher  and  lower  branches  of  all  professions. 


dyers'  hall  {see  page  41). 


unto  united.     The  following  is  among  the  monu- 
mental inscriptions : — 

"  Leonard  Smith,  fishmonger,  ended  his  days, 
He  feared  the  Lord  and  walked  in  his  wayes. 
His  body  here  in  earth  doth  rest, 
His  soul  with  Christ  in  heaven  is  blest. 
The  14th  day  of  May,  Anno  Dom.  1601." 

The  next  turning  eastward,  Fyefoot  Lane,  should 
be  written  Five-foot  Lane,  as  the  lane  was  once 
only  five  feet  wide  at  one  end.  Little  Trinity 
Lane,  the  next  turning  eastward,  derives  its  name 
from  a  church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  destroyed  in  the 
Great  Fire,  and  not  rebuilt  (a  Lutheran  church  now 
occupies  its  site) ;  and  here  we  come  on  Painter- 
Stainers'  Hall,  No.  9,  which  esusfed  aS  a  guild  or 
62— Vol.  It 


"The  minutes  of  the  Company,"  Says  Peter 
Cunningham,  "  commence  in  the  early  part  of  the 
reign  of  James  I. ;  some  of  the  entries  are  curious. 
Orders  were  made  to  compel  the  foreign  painters 
then  resident  in  London,  Gentileschi,  Steenwytk, 
&c.,  to  pay  certain  fines  for  following  their  art, 
without  being  free  of  the  Painters'-Stainers'  Com- 
pany. The  fines,  however,  were  never  paid,  the 
court  painters  setting  the  painters'-stainers  in  the 
City  at  defiance.  Cornelius  Jansen  was  a  member, 
and  Inigo  Jones  and  Van  Dyck  occasional  guests  at 
their  annual  feasts.  The  Hall  is  very  dark.  Here  are 
a  few  pictures  that  deserve  attention  : — No  21,'  The 
Fire  of  London,'  by  Waggoner,  engraved  in  '  Pen- 
nant's London;'  but  hung  out  of  sight;  No.  31,  full 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Upper  Thames  Street. 


length  of  Charles  II.,  by  John  Baptist  Caspars; 
No.  37,  full  length  of  the  Queen  of  Charles  II., 
by  Huysman  ;  No.  33,  full  length  of  William  III., 
by  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  presented  by  Sir  Gedfrey; 
No.  28,  full  length  of  Queen  Anne,  by  Dahl;  No. 
41,  '  Magdalen,'  by  Sebastian  Franck  (small,  on 
copper) ;  No.  42,  '  Camden,  in  his  dress  as  Claren- 
cieux,'  presented  to  the  Company  by  Mr.  Morgan, 
Master,  in  iS^O.  Camden  left  ;^i6  by  will  to  the 
Painters'-Stainers,  to  buy  them  a  piece  of  plate, 
upon  which  he  directed  this  inscription  to  be  put : 
— '  Qui.  Camdenus,  Clarencieux,  filius  Sampsonis, 
Pictoris  Londinensis,  dono  dedit.'  The  loving  cup 
of  the  great  antiquary  is  produced  every  St.  Luke's 
Day,  at  the  annual  feast  of  the  Coinpany.  Charles 
Catton,  herald  painter,  and  one  of  the  original 
members  of  the  Royal  Academy,  was  Master  of  the 
Corhpany  in  1784.  No  Royal  Academician  of  the 
present  day  would  ever  dream  of  becoming  a 
member." 

In  the  barbarous  days  of  the  culinary  art,  when 
whales  and  dolphins  were  eaten,  and  our  queens 
quaffed  strong  ale  for  breakfast,  garlick  was  a  great 
article  of  kitchen  consumption,  and  according  to 
Stow,  was  then  sold  on  Garlick  Hill. 

Queen  Street,  that  leads  from  Cheapside  (in 
a  line  with  King  Street)  right  down  to  Southwark 
Bridge,  was  one  of  the  improvements  after  the 
Great  Fire.  It  opened  out  of  Soper  Lane,  and  was 
intended  to  furnish  a  direct  road  to  the  water-side 
from  the  Guildhall,  as  it  still  does.'  College  Hill 
was  so  called  from  the  College  of  St.  Spirit  and  St. 
Mary,  founded  by  Whittington,  and  described  by 
us  in  a  previous  part  of  the  chapter.  The  Duke  of 
Buckingham's  house  stood  near  the  top,  on  the  east 
side.  The  second  and  last  Duke  used  to  come  here 
and  intrigue  with  the  City  men  of  the  Puritan  party. 

Dowgate  Hill  leads  to  one  of  the  old  water- 
gates  of  London,  and  gives  its  name  to  one  of  the 
twenty-six  wards  of  the  City.  Stow  enumerates 
two  churches  and  five  halls  of  companies  in  this 
ward — All  Hallows  the  More  and  the  Less  ;  Tallow 
Chandlers'  Hall,  Skinners'  Hall,  Maltsters'  Hall, 
Joyners'  Hall,  and  Dyers'  Hall..  The  Steel  Yard, 
or  dep6t  of  the  Hanse  Town  merchants,  already 
noticed,  is  in  this  ward.  Dowgate,  or  Down-gate, 
from  its  rapid  descent,  was  famous  in  Strype's  time 
for  its  flooding  discharge  during  heavy  rains  :  Stow 
mentions  a  boy  losing  his  footing,  and  being  carried 
down  the  stream,  in  spite  of  men  trying  to  stop 
him  with  staves,  till  he  struck  against  a  cart-wheel, 
and  was  picked' up  dead.     Ben- Jonson,  speaks  of 

"Dowgate  torrents  falling  into  Thames.'' 

Pennant  says  that  Dowgate  (from  Dwr,  Celtic, 


■water)  was  one  of  the  old  Roman  gates  of  London, 
where  passengers  went  across  by  ferry  to  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  military  way  towards  Dover.  It 
was  a  water  wharf  in  the  reigns  of  Henry  III. 
and  Edward  III.  Customs  were  paid  for  ships 
resting  here,  in  the  same  manner  as  if  they  were 
at  Queenhithe. 

The  Erber  (already  described)  stood  near 
Dowgate. 

Suffolk  Lane,  with  Merchant  Taylors'  School, 
which  stands  on  the  old  De  la  Pole,  or  Suffolk 
property,  we  have  already  mentioned. 

In  Laurence  Poultney  Hill  many  eminent  persons 
seem  to  have  lived  towards  the  end  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.-  Daniel  and  Eliab  Harvey,  brothers 
of  Dr.  William  Harvey,  Charles  I.'s  physician,  and 
the  great  discoverer  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood, 
were  rich  merchants  on  this  hill. 

The  Skinners,  whose  hall  is  situated  in  Dowgate, 
were  incorporated  in  the  first  year  of  Edward  III. 
(1327),  and  made  a  brotherhood  in  the  eighteenth 
of  Richard  II.  Their  original  title  is  "  Master 
and  Wardens,  Brothers  and  Sisters  of  the  Guild 
or  Fraternity  of  the  Skinners  of  London,  to  the 
Honour  of  God,  and  the  precious  Body  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

Furs,  though  known  to  the  Saxons,  were  brought 
into  more  general  use  by  the  Normans.  A  statute 
of  Edward  III.  restricts  the  wearing  of  furs  to 
the  royal  family,  prelates,  earis,  barons,  knights, 
ladies,  and  rich  priests.  A  charter  of  Henry  Vll. 
enumerates  ermine,  sables,  minever,  badger,  and 
many  other  furs  then  used  to  trim  coats  and  gowns. 
Rabbit  skin  was  also  much  worn,  even  by  nobles 
and  gentlemen. 

The  Skinners  had  a  hall  as  early  as  the  reign  of 
Henry  III.,  and  they  were  among  the  first  of  the 
guilds  chartered  by  Edward  III,  In  this  reign 
they  ranked  so  high  as  to  venture  to  dispute  pre- 
cedence with  the  powerful  Fishmongers.  This  led, 
m  1339,  to  the  celebrated  fray,  when  prisoners  were 
rescued,  and  one  of  the  Mayor's  officers  wounded. 
The  end  of  this  was  the  rapid  execution  of  two  of 
the  ringleaders  in  Cheapside.  In  the  offerings  for 
the  French  war  (37  Edward  III.)  the  Skinners  con- , 
tributed  ;^4o,  which  was  double  even  the  Gold- 
smiths' subsidy. 

In  1395,  the  Skinners,  who  had  previously  been 
divided  into  two  brotherhoods,  one  at  St.  Mary 
Spital,  and  the  other  at  St.  Mary  Bethlehem,  were 
united  by  Richard  II.  They  then  resided  in  St. 
Mary  Axe,  and  in  Strype's  time  they  removed  to 
Budge  Row  and  Walbrook.  In  the  Great  Watch, 
on  the  vigil  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  (6  Edward  IV. )[ 
the  Skinners  rank  as  sixth  among  the  tYvelve  oreat 


Upper  Thames  Street.] 


GRAND   AND   CURIOUS   CEREMONIALS, 


39 


companies,  and  sent  twenty  men  to  attend.  In 
Richard  III.'s  time  they  had  stood  as  seventh  of 
the  thirteen  mysteries.  They  theii  sent  twenty- 
four  members,  in  murry-coloured  coats,  to  meet  the 
usurper  on  entering  London,  the  five  great  com- 
panies alone  sending  thirty;  and  at  Richard's 
coronation  John  Pasmer,  "  pellipar  "  (Skinner),  was 
in  the  deputation  from  the  twelve  companies,  who 
attended  the  Lord  Mayor  as  chief  butler. 

In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  though  the  richer  furs 
were  less  worn,  the  Skinners  were  still  numerous. 
They  employed  "  tawyers,"  or  poor  workmen,  to 
dress  the  coney  and  other  English  furs,  which 
pedlars  collected  from  the  country  people.  To 
restrict  merchants  from  forestalling  them  in  the 
purchase  of  furs,  the  Skinners  petitioned  Elizabeth 
for  the  exclusive  monopoly,  but  were  opposed  by 
the  Lord  Mayor  and  the  Eastland  merchants. 

The  ordinances  of  the  Skinners  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  II.  prescribe  regulations  for  importing  and 
manufacturing  skins  into  furs,  fixing  the  number 
of  skins  in  a  package,  and  forbidding  the  sale  of 
second-hand  furs  for  new. 

One  of  the  great  ceremonials  of  the  Skinners' 
Company  was  the  annual  procession  on  Corpus 
Christi  Day.  They  had  then  borne  before  them 
more  than  200  painted  and  gilded  wax  torches, 
"burning  bright,"  says  Stow;  then  came  above 
200  chanters  and  priests,  in  surplices  and  copes, 
singing.  After  them  came  the  sheriffs'  officers,  the 
clerks  of  the  City  prisons,  the  sheriffs'  chaplains, 
mayor's  Serjeants,  the  counsel  of  the  City,  the  mayor 
and  aldermen  in  scarlet,  and  lastly  the  Skinners  in 
their  best  livery.  The  guests  returned  to  dinner  in 
the  Company's  Hall.  On  the  following  Sunday 
they  again  went  in  procession  to  church,  heard  a 
mass  of  requiem  solemnised  for  their  deceased 
members,  and  made  offerings.  The  bead-roll  of 
the  dead  was  then  called,  and  the  Company  re- 
peated their  orisons.  The  priests  then  said  a 
general  prayer  for  all  the  surviving  members  of  the 
fraternity,  mentioning  each  by  name.  They  after- 
wards returned  to  their  hall,  paid  their  quarterage, 
and  any.  balances  of  livery  money,  and  enjoyed 
themselves  in  a  comfortable  but  unpretentious 
dinner,  for  which  they  had  duly  and  thriftly  paid 
in  advance.     Oh,  simple  life  of  quiet  enjoyment ! 

The  election  ceremonies  of  the  Company  are 
highly  curious.  "  The  principals  of  the  Company 
being  assembled,"  says  Mr.  Herbert,  "  on  the  day 
of  annual  election,  ten  Christchurch  scholars,  or 
'Blue-coat  Boys,'  with  the  Company's  almsmen  and 
trumpeters,  enter  the  hall  in  procession,  to  the 
flourish  of  tnimpets.  Three  large  silver  cocks, 
or  fowls  so  named,  are  then  brought  in  and  de- 


livered to  the  master  and  wardens.  On  unscrew- 
ing these  pieces  of  plate  they  are  found  to  form 
drinking-cups,  filled  with  wine,  and  from  which 
they  drink.  Three  caps  of  maintenance  are  then 
brought  in ;  the  first  of  these  the  old  master  tries 
on,  and  finds  it  will  riot  fit  him,  on  which  he  gives 
it  to  be  tried  on  tp  several  next  him.  Being  tried 
by  two  or  three  whom  it  will  not  fit,  it  is  then  given 
to  the  intended  new  master,  whom  fitting,  "of  course, 
he  is  then  announced  with  flourish  and  acclamation 
as  the  master  elect.  The  Uke  ceremonies  are 
•afterwards  repeated  with  the  two  other  caps,  on 
behalf  of  the  wardens  to  be  elected,  who  succeed 
in  a  similar  manner,  and  are  announced  with  the 
like  honours  when  the  healths  of  the  whole  are 
drank  by  the  company." 

The  arms  of  the  Company  are — Ermine,  on  a 
chief  gules,  three  crowns  or,  with  caps  of  the  first. 
Crest — A  leopard  proper,  gorged  with  a  chaplet  of 
bays  or.  Supporters — ^A  lucern  (lynx)  and  a  wolf, 
both  proper.  Motto — "  To  God  only  be  all  glory." 
Hatton,  in  his  "  New  View  of  London,"  boasts  of 
the  Company  having  enrolled,  in  its  tinie,  six  kings, 
five  queens,  one  prince,  nine  dukes,  two  earls,  and 
a  baron. 

Strype  says  the  hall  in  Dowgate  was  built  after 
the  Fire  of  London  at  an  expense  of  above  ;^i,8oo. 
The  original  hall,  "Coped  Hall,"  had  been  pur- 
chased by  the  Company  as  early  as  the  reign  of 
Henry  III.  It  was  afterwards  alienated,  and  passed 
into  the  hands  of  Sir  Ralph  de  Cobham,  who  made 
Edward  III.  his  heir.  In  the  later  hall  the  mayors 
sometimes  held  their  mayoralty,  and  the  new  East 
India  Company  held  its  general  courts  before  its 
incorporation  with  the  old  Company.  The  hall  is 
described  in  1708  as  a  noble  structure,  built  with 
fine  bricks,  and  richly  furnished,  the  great  parlour 
being  lined  with  odoriferous  cedar.  The  hall  was 
altered  by  Mr.  Jupp  at  the  end  of  the  last  century. 
It  is  an  Ionic  building,  with  a  rusticated  basement. 
Six  pilasters,  sustaining  an  entablature  and  pointed 
pediment,  divide  a  double  tier  of  six  windows.  In 
the  tympanum  of  the  pediment  the  architect  has 
shown  a  noble  disregard  to  heraldry  by  doubling  up 
the  supporters  of  the  Company's  arms,  to  fit  into 
the  space.  The  frieze  is  ornamented  with  festoons 
and  leopards'  heads.  A  small  paved  court  separates 
the  front  from  the  more  ancient  building,  which  is 
of  brick.  The  hall,  a  light  and  elegant  apartment, 
has  an  Ionic  screen.  The  court-room  is  no  longer 
wainscoted  with  odoriferous  cedar.  The  staircase, 
says  Herbert,  displays  some  of  the  massy  and  rich 
ornaments  in  fashion  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II. 

"  The  parish  church  of  St.  Laurence  Poultney 
was  increased,  with  a  chapel  of  Jesus,  by  Thomas 


40 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[Upper  Thames  Street 


Cole,  for  a  master  and  chaplain ;  the  which  chapel 
and  church  were  made  a  college  of  Jesus,  and  of 
Corpus  Christi,  for  a  master  and  seven  chaplains, 
by  John  Poultney,  mayor,  and  was  confirmed  by 
Edward  III.,  the  twentieth  of  his  reign.  Of  him 
was  this  church  called  St.  Laurence  Poultney  in 
Candlewick  Stre&t.  The  college  was  surrendered 
in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  who  granted  and  sold 
it  to  John  Cheke,  his  schoolmas.ter,  and  Walter 
Moyle."  The  following  is  one  of  the  curious  old 
epitaphs  preserved  by  Strype  : — 

"  Every  Christian  heart 

Seeketh  to  extoll 
The  glory  of  the  Lord, 

Our  onely  Redeemer ; 
Wherefore  Dame  Fame 

Must  needs  inroU 
Paul  Withypoll  his  childej 

By  Love  and  Nature, 
Elizabeth,  the  wife 

Of  Emanuel  Lucar, 
In  whom  was  declared 

The  goodnesse  of  the  Lord, 
With  many  high  vertues, 

Which  truely  I  will  record. 

She  wrought  all  needle-workes 

That  women  exercise. 
With  Pen,  Frame,  or  Stoole, 

All  pictures  artificiall, 
Curious  Knots  or  Trailes,  :4  '  '• 

What  fancy  would  devise,  ^ 

Beasts,  Birds,  or  Flowers, 

Even  as  things  naturall. 
Three  manner  hands  could  she 

Write,  them  fair^all. 
To  speak  of  Alegorisme, 

Or  accounts,  in  every  fashion, 
Of  women,  few  like 

(I  thinke)  in  all  this  nation. 
*  *  *  * 

Lfltijie  and  Spanish, 

And  also  Italian, 
She  spake,  writ,  and  read, 

With  perfect  utterance ; 
And  for  the  English, 

She  the  Garland  wan. 
In  Dame  Prudence  Schoole, 

By  Graces'  purveyance, 
Which  cloathed  her  with  vertues 

From  naked  ignorance ; 
Reading  the  Scriptures, 

To  judge  light  from  darke. 
Directing  her  faith  to  Christ, 

The  onely  marke. " 

A  monument  at  the  upper  end  of  the  north  aisle 
bore  this  inscription  : — 

"  Hoc  est  nescire,  sine  Christo 
plurima  scire ; 
Si  Christum  bene  scis, 
satis  est,  si  ctetera  nescis.'' 

"St.  Laurence  Poultney  Church,"  says  Aubrey, 


"was  the  only_London  church  that  could  then 
boast  of  a  leaden  steeple,  except  St.  Dunstan  in  the 
East."  Richard  Glover,  the  author  of  that  tenth- 
rate  epic,  "  Leonidas,"  was  also  a  merchant  on  this 
hill.  "  Leonidas,"  an  epic  in  twelve  books,  praised 
by  Fielding,  and  written  to  vex  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
by  covert  patriotic  allusions,  had  its  day.  By  many 
people  of  his  time  Glover  was  generally  believed 
to  have  written  the  "  Letters  of  Junius,"  but  Junius 
has  more  of  the  old  nobleman  about  him  than  the 
Hamburg  merchant.  Sir  Patience  Ward,  that  great 
City  politician,  was  living  in  1677  on  Laurence 
Poultney  Hill;  and  in  the  same  year  also  lived 
there  William  Vanderbergh,  the  father,  as  Mr.  Peter 
Cunningham  thinks,  of  the  wit  and  dramatist.  Sir 
John  Vanbrugh,  the  architect  of  Blenheim.  Thomas 
Creede,  the  great  play-printer  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 
time,  lived  in  this  parish.  The  register  records  the 
marriage,  in  1632-3,  of  Anne  Clarges  to  Thomas 
Radford,  farrier,  of  the  parish  of  St.  Martin' s-in-the- 
Fields.  This  lady  (a  laundress)  afterwards  married 
General  Monk,  the  restorer  of  Charles  II. 

"  On  the  south  side  of  Thames  Street,"  says  Mr. 
Jesse,  "close  to  where  the  Steel  Yard  formerly 
stood,  is  the  church  of  All  Hallows  the  Great, 
anciently  called  All  Hallows  the  More,  and  some- 
times All  Hallows  in  the  Ropery,  from  its  being 
situated  in  a  district  chiefly  inhabited  by  rope- 
mak^s.  It  was  founded  in  136 1  by  the  Despencer 
family,  from  whom  the  presentation  passed  by 
marriage  to  the  Beauchamps,  Earls  of  Warwick, 
and  subsequently  to  the  Crown.  The  present  un- 
interesting church  was  built  by  Sir  Christopher 
Wren,  shortly  after  the  destruction  of  the  old  edifice 
by  fire  in  1666.  Stow  informs  us  that  there  was  a 
statue  of  Queen  Elizabeth  in  the  old  church,  to 
which  the  following  verses  were  attached  : — 

"  If  Royal  virtue  ever  crowned  a  crown  ; 
If  ever  mildness  shined  in  majesty ; 
If  ever  honour  honoured  true  renown  ; 
If  ever  courage  dwelt  with  clemency  ; 

"  If  ever  Princess  put  all  princes  down, 
For  temperance,  prowess,  prudence,  equity  j 
This,  this  was  she,  that,  in  despite  of  death, 
Lives  still  admired,  adored,  Elizabeth  !" 

"  The  only  object  of  any  interest  in  the  interior 
of  the  church  is  a  handsome  oak  screen,  said  to 
have  been  manufactured  in  Hamburg,  which  was 
presented  to  the  church  by  the  Hanse  merchants, 
m  grateful  memory  of  their  connection  with  the 
parish." 

The  Swan  Stairs,  a  little  "above  bridge,"  was 
where  people  coming  by  boat  used  to  land,  to 
walk  to  the  other  side  of  Old  Lpjidon  Bridge, 
when  the  current  was  swift  and  narrqvv  between 


Lower  T!iarae.=  Street.] 


A   LEGEND   ABOUT   BILLINGSGATE. 


di 


the  starlings,  and  "  shooting  the  bridge"  was  rather 
hke  going  down^the  rapids.  Citizens  usually  took 
boat  again  at  Billingsgate,  as  we  find  Johnson 
and  Boswell  once  doing,  on  their  way  to  Green- 
wich, in  1763. 

Dyers'  Hall,  College  Street,  was  rebuilt  about 
1857.  The  Company  was  incorporated  as  early  as 
1472,  and  the  ancient  hall,  on  the  site'  of  Dyers' 
Hall  Wharf,  was  destroyed  in  the  Great  Fire.  The 
Innholders'  Hall,  in  the  same  street,  was  also  built 
after  the  Great  Fire.  The  Company  was  incor- 
porated in  1515.  Joiners'  Hall,  Joiners'  Hall 
Buildings,  has  a  carved  screen  and  entrance  door- 
way, and  the  piers  are  surmounted  with  the  Com- 
pany's crest — a  demi- savage,  life-size,  wreathed 
about  the  head  and  waist  with  oak-leaves.  The 
Joiners  were  incorporated  about  1567.  The 
Plumbers'  Hall,  in  Great  Bush  Lane,  is  a  modern 
brick  building.  The  Company  was  incorporated 
by  James  I.  in  i&ii. 

The  celebrated  Calamy  gives  a  curious  account 
of  an  adventure  he  met  with  at  Trigg  stairs,  in  this 
district.  "  As  I  was  going,"  he  says,  "  one  day, 
from  Westminster  into  the  City,  designing  to  dine 
with  Sir  Richard  Levet,  I  landed  at  Trigg  Stairs. 
Walking  up  from  the  -vifater-side  towards  Maiden 
Lane,  where  he  lived,  I  was  overtaken  by  a  woman 
who  had  seen  me  pass  by,  and  ran  very  eagerly  after 


me,  till  she  was  almost  out  of  breath.  She  seemed 
greatly  frightened,  and  caught  hold  of  me,  begging 
me,  for  God's  sake,  to  go  back  with  her.  I  asked 
her  what  the  matter  was,  and  what  she  had  to  say 
to  me.  She  told  me  there  was  a  man  had  just 
hanged  himself  in  a  cellar,  and  was  cut  dow;i,  and 
she  ran  up  and  saw  me  go  by,  and  was  overjoyed 
at  my  coming  so  seasonably,  and  begged  of  me, 
for  the  Lord's  sake,  that  I  would  go  back  with  her 
and  pity  the  poor  man.  I  asked  her  what  she 
expected  from  me,  and  whether  she  thought  I 
could  bring  a  dead  man  to  life.  She  told  me  the 
man  was  not  dead,  but  was  cut  down  alive,  and 
come  to  himself,  and  she  hoped  if,  at  such  a  season- 
as  fliis,  he  was  seriously  talked  with,  it  might  do 
him  good.  Though  I  was  an  utter  stranger  to  this 
woman,  I  was  yet  prevailed  with  by  her  earnestness 
and  tears,  which  were  observed  by  all  that  passed, 
to  go  back  with  her.  She  carried  me  up-stairs  into 
a  handsome  dining-room.  I  found  a  grave,  elderly 
woman  sitting  in  one  comer ;  a  younger  woman  in 
another ;  a  down-looking  man,  that  had  discontent 
in  his  countenance,  and  seemed  to  be  between 
thirty  and  forty  years  of  age,  in  a  third  corner ;  and 
a  chair  standing  in  a  fourth,  as  if  set  for  me,  and 
upon  that  I  placed  myself."  After  reasoning  with 
the  man,  and  endeavouring  to  restore  peace  in  the 
family,  the  good  man  left. 


CHAPTER   V. 
LOWER  THAMES  STREET. 

Septem  Camerae— A  Legend  about  BiUingsgate — Hogarth  visits  it — Henry  Mayhew's  Description  of  it — Billingsgate  Dock  in  King  Ethelred's  Time  — 
The  Price  of  Fish  as  regulated  by  Edward  I. — Billingsgate  constituted  a  Free  and  Open  Market  by  Act  of  Parliament — Fish  Monopolists  and 
their  Evil  Practices — The  Habitual  Frequenters  of  Billingsgate — The  Market  at  its  Height — Oyster  Street — Fishing  in  the  Thames  a  Long 
Time  ago — A  Sad  Falling-olT— A  Curious  Billingsgate  Custom — A  Thieves'  College — The  Coal  Exchange-7-Discovery  of  Koman  Remains 
on  its  Site — The  Waterman's  Hall — Thames  Watermen  and  Wherrymen — Fellowship  Porters'  Hill — The  Custom  House — Growth  of 
the  Revenue — The  New  Building — Customs  Officials — Curious  Stories  of  the  Customs — Cowper  and  his  Intended  Suicide — The  System  of 
Business  in  the  Custom  House — Custom  House  Sales — "Passing"  Baggage. 


In  St.  Mary-at-Hill  Lane,  Thames  Street,  is  the 
fair  parish  church  of  St.  Mary,  called  "  on  the  Hill," 
because  of  the  ascent  from  Billingsgate.  "In  this 
parish  there  was  a  place,"  says  Stow,  "  called 
'  Septem  Camerse,'  which  was  either  one  house,  or 
else  so  many  rooms  or  chambers,  which  formerly 
belonged  to  some  chantry,  the  rent  whereof  went 
towards  the  maintaining  of  a  priest  to  pray  super- 
stitiously  for  the  soul  of  the  deceased,  who  left 
those  septem  camerse  for  that  use." 

Stow  has  preserved  the  following  epitaph  from 
a  tomb  in  the  chancel  of  St.  Mary's  : — 

"  Here  lyeth  a  knight,  in  London  borne, 
Sir  Thomas  Blanke  by  name. 


Of  honest  birth,  of  merchant's  trade, 

A  man  of  worthy  fame. 
Religious  was  his  life  to  God, 

To  men  his  dealing  just  ; 
The  poor  and  hospitals  can  tell 

That  wealth  was  not  his  trust. 
With  gentle  heart,  and  spirit  milde, 

And  nature  full  of  pitie, 
Both  sherifife,  lord  niaior,  and  alderman, 

He  ruled  in  this  citie. 
The  '  Good  Knight'  was  his  common  name, 

So  called  of  many  men'; 
He  lived  long,  and  dyed  of  yeeres  ^' 

Twice  seven,  and  six  times  ten." 

Billingsgate,  though  a  rough  and    unromafitic 
place  at  the  present  day,  has  an  ancient  legend  of 


42 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Lower  "Thames  Street. 


its  own,  that  associates  it  with  royal  names  and 
venerable  folk.  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  deposeth 
that  about  400  years  before  Christ's  nativity,  Belin, 
a  king  of  the  Britons,  built  this  gate  and  gave  it  its 
name,  and  that  when  he  was  dead  the  royal  body 
was  burnt,  and  the  ashes  set  over  the  gate  in  a 
vessel  of  brass,  upon  a  high  pinnacle  of  stone. 
Stow,  more  prosaic,  on  the  other  hand,  is  quite 
satisfied  that  one  Biling  once  owned  the  wharf,  and 
troubles  himself  no  further. 


the  aspect  of  Billingsgate.  Formerly,  passengers 
embarked,  here  for  Gravesend  and  other  places 
down  the  river,  and  a  great  many  sailors  mingled 
with  the  salesmen  and  fishermen.  The  boats 
sailed  Only  when  the  tide  served,  and  the  necessity 
of  being  ready  at  the  strangest  hours  rendered 
many  taverns  necessary  for  the  accommodation 
of  travellers.  "  The  market  formerly  opened  two 
hours  earlier  than  at  present,"  says  Mr.  Piatt, 
writing  in  1842,  "  and  the  result  was  demoralising 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ALLHALLOWS  THE  GREAT   IN    1 784   (see  page />fi). 


In  Hogarth's  memorable  tour  (1732)  he  stopped 
at  Billingsgate  for  the  purpose  of  sketching.  His 
poetical  chronicler  says — 

"  Our  march  we  with  a  song  begin. 
Our  hearts  were  light,  our  breeches  thin. 
We  meet  with  nothing  of  adventure 
Till  Billingsgate's  dark  house  we  enter  ; 
Where  we  diverted  were,  while  baiting, 
With  ribaldry  not  worth  relating 
(Quite  suited  to  the  dirty  plact)  : 
But  what  most  pleased  us  was  his  Grace 
Of  Puddle  Dock,  a  porter  grim, 
Whose  portrait  Hogarth,  in  a  whim. 
Presented  him,  in  caricature, 
He  pasted  on  the  cellar  door. " 

The  introduction  of  steamboats' has  much  altered 


and  exhausting.  Drink  led  to  ribald  language  and 
fighting,  but  the  refreshment  now  taken  is  chiefly 
coffee,  and  the  general  language  and  behaviour-has 
improved."  The  fish-fags  of  Ned  Ward's  time  have 
disappeared,  and  the  business  is  done  smarter  and 
quicker.  As  late  as  1842  coaches  would  some- 
times arrive  at  Billingsgate  from  Dover  or  Hastings, 
and  so  affect  the  market.  The  old  circle  from 
which  dealers  in  their  carts  attended  the  market, 
included  Windsor,  St.  Albans,  Hertford,  Romford, 
and  other  places  within  twenty-five  miles.  Rail- 
ways have  now  enlarged  the  area  of  purchasers  to 
an  indefinite  degree.  In  the  Dutch  auction  system 
used  at  BiUingsgate,  the  prices  asked  sink  till  they 
reach  the  level  of  the  purchaser.     The  cheap  fish- 


LoWer  Thames  Stfeet.J 


MARKET  MORNING  AT  BILLINGSGATE. 


43 


sellers  practise  many  tricks,  blowing  the  cod-fish 
larger  with  pipes,  and  mixing  dead  eels  with  live 
ones.  Railways  have  made  fish  a  main  article  of 
food  with  the  London  poor,  so  that,  according  to 
Mr.  Mayhew,  the  London  costermongers  sell  one- 
third  of  the  entire  quantity  of  fish  sent  to  Billings- 


begins.  Many  of  the  costers  that  usually  deal  in 
vegetables  buy  a  little  fish  on  the  Friday.  It  is  the 
fast-day  of  the  Irish,  and  the  mechanics'  wives  run 
short  of  money  at  the  end  of  the  week,  a,nd  so 
make  up  their  dinners  with  fish  :  for  this  reason  the 
attendance  of  costers'  barrows  at  Billingsgate  on  a 


HALL    OF    THE    SKINNERS'    COMPANy. 


gate.  The  salesmen  divide  all  fish  into  two  classes, 
"  red  "  and .  "  white."  The  "  red  "  fish  is  salmon, 
all  other  descriptions  are  known  as  "white." 

To  see  this  market  in  its  busiest  costermonger 
time,  says  Mr.  Mayhew,  the  visitor  should  be  there 
about  seven  o'clock  on  a  Friday  morning.  The 
market  opens  at  four,  but  for  the  first  two  or  three 
hours  it  is  attended  solely  by  the  regular  fishmongers 
and  "  bummarees,"  who  have  the  pick  of  the  best 
there.     As  soon  as  these  are  gone  the  costers'  sale 


Friday  morning  is  always  very  great.  As  soon  as 
you  reach  the  Monument  you  see  a  line  of  them, 
with  one  or  two  tall  fishmongers'  carts  breaking 
the  uniformity,  and  the  din  of  the  cries  and  com- 
motion of  the  distant  market  begin  to  break  on 
the  ear  like  the  buzzing  of  a  hornet's  nest.  The 
whole  neighbourhood  is  covered  with  hand-barrows, 
some  laden  with  baskets,  others  with  sacks.  The 
air  is  filled  with  a  kind  of  sea-weedy  odour,  re- 
minding one  of  the  sea-shore ;  and  on  entering  the 


44 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


Lower  Thames  Street 


market,  the  smell  of  whelks,  red  herrings,  sprats, 
and  a  hundred  other  sorts  of  fish,  is  almost  over- 
powering. The  wooden  barn-looking  Igquare  where 
the  fish  is  sold  is,  soon  after  six  o'clock,  crowded 
with  shiny  cord  jackets  and  greasy  caps.  Everybody 
comes  to  BiUingsgate  in  his  worst  clothes ;  and  no 
one  knows  the  length  of  time  a  coat  can  be  worn 
Until  they  have  been  to  a  fish-sale.  Through  the 
bright  opening  at  the  end  are  seen  the  tangled 
rigging  of  the  oyster-boats,,  and  the  red-worsted  caps 
of  the  sailors.  Over  the  hum  of  voices  is  heard 
the  shouts  of  the  salesmen,  who,  with  their  white 
aprons,  peering  above  the  heads  of  the  mob,  stand 
on  their  tables  roaring  out  their  prices.  All  are 
bawling  together — salesmen  and  hucksters  of  pro- 
visions, capes,  hardware,  and  newspapers — till  the 
place  is  a  perfect  Babel  of  competition. 

"  Ha-a-andsome  cod  !  the  best  in  the  market ! 
All  alive  !  alive  !  alive,  oh  ! " — "  Ye-o-o  !  ye-o-o  ! 
Here's  your  fine  Yarmouth  bloaters !  Who's  the 
buyer  ?" — "  Here  you  are,  governor ;  splendid 
whiting!  some  of  the  fight  sort!" — "Turbot! 
turbot !  All  alive,  turbot ! " — "  Glass  of  nice  pep- 
,  permint,  this  cold  morning  ?  Halfpenny  a  glass  ! " 
— "  Here  you  are,  at  your  own  price  !  Fine 
soles,  oh!" — "Oy!  oy!  oy !  Now's  your  time! 
Fine  grizzling  sprats  !  all  large,  and  no  small !" — 
"  Hullo  !  hullo,  here  !  Beautiful  lobsters  !  good  and 
cheap.  Fine  cock  crabs,  all  alive,  oh  ! " — "  Five 
brill  and  one  turbot — ^have  that  lot  for  a  pound ! 
Come  and  look  at  'em,  governor;  you  won't  see 
a  better  lot  in  the  market." — "Here!  this  way; 
this  way,  for  splendid  skate !  Skate,  oh !  skate, 
oh  !" — "  Had-had-had-had-haddock  !  All  fresh  and 
good  ! " — "Currant  and  meat  puddings  !  a  ha'penny 
each  1 " — •"  Now,  you  mussel -buyers,  come  along  ! 
come  along  !  come  along !  Now's  your  time  for 
fine  fat  mussels  !" — "  Here's  food  for  the  belly,  and 
clothes  for  the  back ;  but  I  sell  food  for  the  mind  ! " 
shouts  the  newsvdndor. — "  Here's  smelt,  oh!  " — 
"  Here  ye  are,  fine  Finney  haddick  !" — "  Hot 
soup  !  nice  pea-soup  !  a-all  hot !  hot ! " — "  Ahoy  ! 
ahoy,  here  !  Live  plaice !  all  alive,  oh  ! " — "  Now 
or  never  I  Whelk  !  whelk !  whelk  ! "— "  Who'll  buy 
brill,  oh !  brill,  oh  ?  " — "  Capes  !  waterproof  capes ! 
Sure  to  keep  the  wet  out !  A  shilling  apiece  !  " — 
''Eels,  oh!  eels,  oh!  Alive,  oh!  alive,  oh!" — 
"  Fine  flounders,  a  shilling  a  lot  I  Who'll  have  this 
prime  lot  of  flounders  ?  " — "  Shrimps  !  shrimps  !  fine 
shrimps  !" — "  Wink !  wink  !  wink  !" — "  Hi !  hi-i ! 
here  you  are ;  just  eight  eels  left — only  eight ! " — 
"  O  ho  !  O  ho  !  this  way — this  way — this  wd,y  ! 
Fish  alive  !  alive  !  alive,  oh  ! " 

Billingsgate  Dock  is  mentioned  as  an  important 
quay  in  Brompton's  Chronicle  (Edward  IH.),  under 


the  date  976,  when  King  Ethelred,  being  then  at 
Wantage,  in  Berkshire,  made  laws  for  regulating 
the  customs  on  ships  at  Blynesgate,  or  Billingsgate, 
then  the  only  wharf  in  London,  i.  Small  vessels 
were  to  pay  one  halfpenny ;  2.  Larger  ones,  with 
sails,  one  penny;  3.  Keeles,  or  hulks,  still  larger, 
fourpence.  4.  Ships  laden  with  wood,  one  piece 
for  toll.  5.  Boats  with  fish,  according  to  size,  a 
halfpenny  and  a  penny;  6.  Men  of  Rouen,  who 
came  with  wine  or  peas,  and  men  of  Flanders  and 
Liege,  were  to  pay  toll  before  they  began  to  sell, 
but  the  Emperor's  moi  (Germans  of  the  Steel  Yard) 
paid  an  annual  toll.  7.  Bread  was  tolled  three 
times  a  week,  cattle  were  paid  for  in  kind,  and 
butter  and  cheese  were  paid  more  for  before  Christ- 
mas than  after. 

By  King  Stephen's  time,  according  to  Becket's 
friend  and  biographer,  Fitzstephen,  the  different 
foreign  merchants  had  drafted  off  to  their  respective 
quays — Germans  and  Dutch  to  the  Steel  Yard,  in 
Upper  Thames  Street ;  the  French  wine  merchants 
to  the  Vintry.  In  the  reign  of  Edward  L,  a  great 
regulator  of  the  price  of  provisions,  the  price  of 
fish  was  fixed  at  the  following  scale  : — 


ij. 

d. 

A  dozen  of  best  soles 

.     0 

3 

Best  haddock 

.     0 

2 

Best  muUett 

.     0 

2 

Best  John  Dory 

.     0 

5 

Best  whitings,  four  for 

.      0 

I 

Best  fresh  oysters;  a  gallon  . 

.     0 

2 

Best  Thames  or  Severn  lamprey 

.     0 

4 

Best  turbot  . 

.     0 

6 

Best  porpoise 

6d. 

to  0 

8 

Best  fresh  salmon  (after  Easter), 

fou 

r  for 

.   s 

0 

Best  roach     . 

.     0 

I 

Best  pike 

6d. 

to  0 

8 

(Probably  brought  from  abroad 

pickled). 

Best  eels,  a  strike,  or  quarter  of 

\\a 

ndred 

.     0 

2 

Best  conger  . 

I 

0 

Seal,  sturgeon,  ling,  and  dolphin  were  also  eaten. 

Edward  III.  fixed  the  Billingsgate  dues  at  2d. 
for  large  ships,  id.  for  smaller,  and  one  halfpenny 
for  boats  or  battles.  For  com  one  farthing  was 
paid  for  two  quarters ;  one  farthing  for  two  measured 
quarters  of  sea-coal.  Every  tun  of  ale  exported 
was  taxed  at  4d.;  and  evei^r  1,000  herrings,  one 
farthing. 

In  May,  1699,  an  Act  of  Parliament  constituted 
Billingsgate  a  free  and  open  market  for  the  sale  of 
fish  six  days  in  the  week,  and  on  Sundays  (before 
Divine  service)  for  mackerel ;  and  any  fishmonger 
who  bought,  except  for  his  own  sale,  was  to  be 
sentenced  to  a  fine  of  ^20  for  every  offence. 
Several  fishery-laws  were  passed  in  17 10,  to  re- 
strain abuses,  and  the  selfish  gijeediness  of  fisher- 
men.    Eel-spears  were  forbidden,  and  it  was  made 


lower  Thames  street.]       THE  'HABITUAL  FREQUENTERS   OF  BILLINGSGATE. 


45 


unlawful  to  use  a  flue,  trammel,  hooped  net,  or 
double -walled  net,  or  to  destroy  the  fry  of  fish. 
No  draw-nets  were  to  be  shot  before  sunrise  or 
after  sunset.  No  fisherman  was  to  try  for  flounders 
between  London  Bridge  and  Westminster  more 
than  two  casts  at  low  and  two  at  high  water.  No 
flounders  were  to  be  taken  under  the  size  of  six 
inches.  No  one  was  to  angle  within  the  limits  of 
London  Bridge  with  more  than  two  hooks  upon 
his  line ;  no  one  was  to  drag  for  salmon  in  the 
Thames  with  nets  imder  six  inches  in  the  mesh ; 
and  all  unlawful  nets  were  to  be  destroyed. 

An  Act  of  the  33rd  year  of  George  II.  was 
passed,  to  regulate  the  sale  of  fish  at  BiUingsgate, 
and  prevent  a  monopoly  of  the  market.  It  was 
found  that  the  London  fishmongers  bought  up 
the  fishing- boats,  and  kept  the  fish  down  at 
Gravesend,  supplying  the  market  with  only  boat- 
loads at  a  time,  so  as  to  keep  up  the  price.  An 
attempt  had  been  made,  in  the  year  1749,  to  esta- 
blish a  fish-market  at  Westminster,  and  fishing-boats 
were  bought  by  subscription  ;  but  the  fishmongers 
prevented  any  supply  of  fish  reaching  the  new 
depot.  The  Act  of  ParUament  above  referred  to 
(33  Geo.  II.)  was  intended  to  remedy  these  evils. 
The  master  of  every  fishing-vessel  arriving  at  the 
Nore  with  fish  had  to  report  the  time  of  his  arrival, 
and  the  cargo  he  brought,  to  the  clerk  of  the  coast- 
office,  under  penaltyof;^20j  and  for  any  marketable 
fish  he  destroyed  he  was  to  be  sentenced  to  not 
less  than  one  month's  hard  labour.  No  fish  was  to 
be  placed  in  well-boats  or  store-boats,  unless  to  go 
straight  to  Billingsgate,  under  a  penalty  of  ;^2o. 
No  one  by  the  same  Act  was  allowed  to  selh  fish- 
spawn,  or  unsizable  fish,  or  any  smelt  less  than 
five  inches  long  from  nose  to  tail. 

Stow  (Elizabeth)  describes  Billingsgate  as  a  port 
or  harborough  for  ships  and  boats  bringing  fish, 
fresh  and  salt,  shell-fish,  oranges,  onions,  fruit, 
roots,  wheat,  rye,  and  other  grain.  It  had  become 
more  frequented  after  the  decline  of  Queenhithe. 
Steam-vessels,  of  late  years,  have  superseded  the 
old  hoys  and  sailing-boats  that  once  visited  Bil- 
lingsgate stairs.  Steamers  are  not,  of  course,  de- 
pendent on  the  state  of  the  tide,  and  the  old 
summons  for  their  departure  (under  penalty)  at  the 
ringing  of  the  bell,  which  announced  high  water  at 
London  Bridge,  is  no  longer  an  observance. 

'Addison,  who  glanced  at  nearly  every  kind  of 
Lpndon  life,  with  his  quiet  kindly  philosophy,  and 
large  toleration  for  folly,  did  not  forget  to  visit 
Billingsgate,  and  refers,  in  his  delightful  way,  to  the 
debates  which  frequently  arose  among  "  the  ladies 
of  the  British  fishery."  Tom  Brown  gives  a  ribald 
sketch  of  the  fish-fag  j   and  coarse-tongued  Ned 


Ward,  that  observant  pubhcan  of  Defoe's  time, 
painted  a  gross  Dutch  picture  of  the  shrill-voiced, 
bloated  Moll  Flagons  of  the  Dark  House,  scolding 
and  chattering  among  their  heaps  of  fish,  ready 
enough  to  knock  down  the  auctioneer  who  did  not 
knock  down  a  lot  to  them. 

In  Bailey's  English  Dictionary  (1736)  a  Billings- 
gate is  described  as  meaning  "a  scolding,  impu- 
dent slut,"  and  Munden,  incomparable  as  Sir  Abel 
Handy,  in  Morton's  excellent  comedy  of  Speed  the 
Plough,  when  asked  about  the  temper  and  manners 
of  his  wife,  repUes,  in  the  true  Socratic  mode,  by 
the  query,  "Were  you  ever  at  Billingsgate  in  the 
sprat  season  ?" 

Mr.  Henry  Mayhew,  writing  in  i86r,  calculates 
that  every  year  in  Billingsgate  there  are  sold 
406,000  salmon,  400,000  live  cod,  97,520,000  soles, 
1 7,920,000  whiting,  2,470,000  haddocks,  23,5 20,000 
mackerel,  4,000,000  lbs.  of  sprats,  1,050,000,000 
fresh  herrings,  in  bulk,  9,797,760  eels,  147,000,000 
bloaters,  19,500,000  dried  haddocks,  495,896,000 
oysters,  1,200,000  lobsters,  600,000  crabs,  and 
498,428,648  shrimps.  Of  this  vast  salvage  from 
the  seas  the  4,000  London  fish  costermongers  sell 
263,28r,ooo  pounds'  weight.  Mr.  Mayhew  calcu- 
lated that  the  sprat  costermongers  sell  3,000,000 
pounds'  weight  annually,  and  realise  ^12,006. 

The  forestallers  or  middlemen  at  Billingsgate 
are  called  "bummarees"  (probably  a  word  of  Dutch 
origin).  They  buy  residues,  and  sell  again  in  lots, 
at  a  considerable  profit,  to  the  fishmongers  and 
costermongers.  They  are  said  to  derive  their  name 
from  the  bumboat-men,  who  used  to  purchase  of 
the  wind-bound  smacks  at  Gravesend  or  the  Nore, 
and  send  the  fish  rapidly  up  to  market  in  light  carts. 

The  costermongers  are  important  people  at 
Billingsgate  market.  Sprat-selling  in  the  streets 
generally  commences  about  the  9th  of  November 
(Lord  Mayor's  Day),  which  is  accordingly  by  cos- 
termongers sometimes  called  "  Sprat  Day,"  Sprats 
continue  in  about  ten  weeks.  They  are  sold  at 
Billingsgate  by  the  "toss"  or  "chuck,"  which  is 
about  half  a  bushel,  and  weighs  from  forty  to  fifty 
pounds.  The  price  varies  from  is.  to  5s.  A  street 
sprat-seller  can  make  from  is.  6d.  to  2s.  6d.  a  day, 
and  often  more.  About  1,000  "tosses"  of  sprats 
are  sold  daily  in  London  streets  during  the  season. 
The  real  costermonger  thinks  sprat-selling  infra  dig. 
A  street  shell-fish-seller  will  make  his  15  s.  a  week, 
chiefly  by  periwinkles  and  mussels.  The  London' 
costermongers,  in  Mr.  Mayhew's  time,  sold  about 
770,000  pints  of  shrimps  annually,  which,  at  2d.  a 
pint,  a  low  calculation,  amounts  to  ;^6,4oo  yearly.  . 
The  costermongers  sell  about  124,000,000  oysters 
a  year,  which,  at  four  a  penny,  the  price  some  years 


46 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Lower  Thames  Street. 


ago,  would  realise  ;£'i29,6so.  The  periwinkles 
sold  in  London  Mr.  Mayhew  calculated  from  good 
data  to  be  3,600,000  pints,  which,  at  a  penny  a 
pint,  gives  the  large  sum  of  ;^i  5,000.  The  sellers 
of  "  Wink,  wink,  winketty,  wink,  wink,"  make,  on 
an  average,  12  s.  a  week  clear  profit  in  the  summer 
season.  Taking  fresh,  salt,  and  shell-fish  together, 
Mr.  Mayhew  calculated  that  ;!^i, 460,850  was  spent 
annually  on  fish  by  London  street  purchasers. 

In  the  days  before  railways,  when  the  coaches 
were  stopped  by  snow,  or  the  river  by  ice,  fish  used 
sometimes  to  command  great  prices  at  Billingsgate. 
In  March,  1802,  a  cod-fish  of  eight  pounds  was 
sold  to  a  Bond  Street  fishmonger  for  £1  8s.  In 
February,  1809,  a  salmon  of  nineteen  pounds  went 
for  a  guinea  a  pound.  In  March,  1824,  three 
lobsters  sold  for  a  guinea  each;  and  Mr.  Timbs 
mentions  two  epicures  dividing  the  only  lobster  in 
the  market  for  sauce,  and  paying  two  guineas  each 
for  the  luxury.  On  the  other  hand,  the  prolific  sea 
furnishes  sometimes  great  gluts  of  fish.  Sixty  tons 
of  periwinkles  at  a  time  have  been  sent  from 
Glasgow ;  and  in  two  days  from  ninety  to  a  hundred 
tons  of  plaice,  soles,  and  sprats  have  been  landed 
at  Billingsgate.  Perhaps  we  may  live  to  see  the 
time  when  the  better  sorts  of  fish  will  grow  scarce 
as  oysters,  and  cod-fish  will  have  to  be  bred  at  the 
Dogger  Bank,  and  encouraged  in  its  reproduction. 

All  fish  is  sold  at  Billingsgate  by  tale,  except 
salmon,  which  go  by  weight,  and  sprats,  oysters, 
and  shell-fish,  which  are  sold  by  measure.  In 
Knight's  "London"  (1842),  the  .number  of  boxes 
of  salmon  sent  to  Billingsgate  is  said  to  begin  in 
February  at  about  thirty  boxes  a  day,  and  to  in- 
crease in  July  to  1,000  boxes  a  day.  In  1842 
probably  not  less  than  2,500  tons  of  salmon  reached 
Billingsgate.  In  1770  salmon  was  sent  to  London 
in  panniers  on  horseback ;  after  that,  it  was  packed 
in  straw  in  light  carts.  After  April  it  was  impos- 
sible to  send  the  fish  to  market.  About  the  year 
1785,  Mr.  Alexander  Dalrymple,  a  servant  of  the 
East  India  Company,  told  a  Mr.  George  Dempster, 
at  the  East  India  House,  the  Chinese  fishermen's 
mode  of  conveying  fresh  fish  great  distances  packed 
up  in  snow.  Dempster  instantly  wrote  off  to  a 
Scotch  friend,  who  had  already  tried  the  plan  of 
sending  salmon,  packed  in  ice,  to  London  from 
Aberdeen  and  Inverness.  In  1852  there  were 
about  sixty  fish- salesmen  in  London,  and  fifty  of 
these  had  stalls  in  Billingsgate. 

The  old  water-gate  of  Beling,  the  friend  of 
Brennus  the  Gaul,  was  long  ago  a  mere  collection 
of  dirty  pent-houses,  scaly  sheds,  and  ill-savoured 
benches,  with  flaring  oil-lamps  in  winter,  daybreak 
disclosing  a  screaming,  fighting,  and  rather  "tipsy 


crowd;  but  since  the  extension  of  the  market  in 
1849,  and  the  disappearance  of  the  fishermen,  there 
is  less  drinking,  and  more  sober  and  strenuous 
business. 

Mr.  Henry  Mayhew  has  painted  a  minute  yet 
vivid  picture  of  this  great  market.  "In  the 
darkness  of  the  shed,"  he  says,  "  the  white  bellies 
of  the  turbots,  strung  up  bow-fashion,  shine  like 
mother-of-pearl,  while  the  lobsters,  lying  upon  them, 
look  intensely  scarlet  from  the  contrast.  Brown 
baskets  piled  upon  one  another,  and  with  the 
herring-scales  glittering  like  spangles  all  over  them, 
block  up  the  narrow  paths.  Men  in  coarse  canvas 
jackets,  and  bending  under  huge  hampers,  push 
past,  shouting,  '  Move  on  !  move  on,  there  !'  and 
women,  with  the  long  limp  tails  of  cod-fish  dangling 
from  their  aprons,  elbow  their  way  through  the 
crowd.  Round  the  auction-tables  stand  groups  of 
men,  turning  over  the  piles  of  soles,  and  throwing 
them  down  till  they  shde  about  in  their  slime; 
some  are  smelling  them,  while  others  are  counting 
the  lots.  '  There,  that  lot  of  soles  are  worth  your 
money,'  cries  the  salesman  to  one  of  the  crowd,  as 
he  moves  on  leisurely ;  '  none  better  in  the  market. 
You  shall  have  'em  for  a  pound  and  half-a-crown.' 
'Oh!'  shouts  another  salesman,  'it's  no  use  to 
bother  him;  he's  no  go.'  Presently  a  tall  porter, 
with  a  black  oyster-bag,  staggers  past,  trembling 
under  the  weight  of  his  load,  his  back  and  shoulders 
wet  with  the  drippings  from  the  sack.  '  Shove  on 
one  side,'  he  mutters  from  between  his  clenched 
teeth,  as  he  forces  his  way  through  the  mob.  Here 
is  a  tray  of  reddish-brown  shrimps  piled  up  high, 
and  the  owner  busy  shifting  his  little  fish  into 
another  stand,  while  a  doubtful  customer  stands  in 
front,  tasting  the  flavour  of  the  stock,  and  con- 
sulting with  his  companion  in  speculation.  Little 
girls  carrying  matting-bags,  that  they  have  brought 
from  Spitalfields,  come  up,  and  ask  you  in  a 
begging  voice  to  buy  their  baskets;  and  women, 
with  bundles  of  twigs  for  stringing  herrings,  cry 
out,  '  Halfpenny  a  bunch  !'  from  all  sides.  Then 
there  are  blue-black  piles  of  small  live  lobsters, 
moving  about  their  bound-up  claws  and  long 
'  feelers,'  one  of  them  occasionally  being  taken  up 
by  a  looker-on,  and  dashed  down  again  like  a  stone. 
Everywhere  every  one  is  asking,  '  What's  the  price, 
master?'  while  shouts  of  laughter,  from  round  the 
stalls  of  the  salesmen,  bantering  each  other,  burst 
out  occasionally  over  the  murmuring  noise  of  the 
crowd.  The  transparent  smelts  on  the  marble 
slabs,  and  the  bright  herrings,  with  the  lump  of 
transparent  ice  magnifying  their  eyes  like  a  lens, 
are  seldom  looked  at  until  the  market  is  over 
though  the  hampers  and   piles  of  huge  maids 


Lower  Thames  Street.] 


AN   ANCIENT   THAMES   ANGLER. 


47 


dropping    slime    from    the    counter,   are    eagerly 
examined  and  bartered  for. 

"The  costennongers   have  nicknamed  the  long 
row  of  oyster-boats   moored   close   alongside   the 
wharf  '  Oyster  Street.'     On  looking  down  the  line 
of  tangled  ropes  and  masts,  it  seems  as  though  the 
little  boats  would  sink  with  the  crowds  of  men  and 
women  thronged  together  on  their  decks.     It  is  as 
busy  a  scene  as  one  can  well  behold.     Each  boat 
has  its  black  sign-board,  and  salesman  in  his  white 
apron  walking  up  and  down  'his  shop,'  and  on 
each  deck  is  a  bright  pewter  pot  and  tin-covered 
plate,   the   remains   of   the   salesman's    breakfast. 
'Who's  for  Baker's?'  'Who's  for  Archer's?'  'Who'll 
have  Alston's  ?'  shout  the   oyster-merchants ;   and 
the  red  cap  of  the  man  in  the  hold  bobs  up  and 
down  as  he  rattles  the  shells  about  with, his  spade. 
These  holds  are  filled  with  oysters^ — a  grey  mass  of 
sand  and  shell — on  which  is  a  bushel-measure  well 
piled  up  in  the  centre,  while  some  of  them  have  a 
blue  muddy  heap  of  mussels  divided  off  from  the 
'natives.'    The  sailors,  in  their  striped  guernseys, 
sit  on  the  boat-sides  smoking  their  morning's  pipe, 
allowing  themselves  to  be  tempted  by  the  Jew  boys 
with  cloth  caps,  old  shoes,  and  silk  handkerchiefs." 
Mr.   Mayhew  has   also   sketched,  with   curious 
photographic  realism,   the   Dutch   eel-boats,   with 
their  bulging  polished  oak  sides,  half  hidden  in  the 
river  mist.     They  are  surrounded  by  skiffs  full  of 
traders  from  the   Surrey  and    Middlesex   shores. 
You  see  wooden  sabots  and   china  pipes  on  the 
ledges  of  the   boats,    and  the  men  wear  tall  fur 
caps,  red  shirts,  and  canvas  kilts.     The  holds  of 
the  vessels  are  tanks,  and  floating  at  the  stern  are 
coffin-shaped  barges  pierced  with  holes,  with  eel- 
baskets  hanging  over  the  sides.     In  the  centre  of 
the  boats  stand  the  scales,  tall  and  heavy,  with,  on 
one  side,  the  conical  net-bag  for  the  eels ;  on  the 
other,  the  weights  and  pieces  of  stone  to  make  up 
for  the  water  that  clings  to  the  fish.     The  captain, 
when  purchasers   arrive,  lays    down    his   constant 
friend,  his  black  pipe,  and  dives  into  the  tank  a 
long-handled  landing-net,  and  scoops  from  the  tank 
a  writhing  knot  of  eels.      Some  of  the  purchasers 
wear  blue  serge  aprons ;  others  are  ragged  women, 
with  their  straw  pads  on  their  crushed  bonnets. 
They  are  busy  sorting  their  purchases,  or  sanding 
them  till  they  are  yellow. 

In,  old  times  the  Thames  fish  half  supplied 
London.  Old  Stow  says  of  the  Thames  in  his  day, 
"  What  should  I  speak  of  the  fat  and  sv/eet  salmons 
daily  taken  in  this  stream,  and  that  in  such  plenty 
(after  the  time  of  the  smelt  is  past)  as  no  river  in 
Europe  is  able  to  exceed  it  ?  But  what  store  also 
of  barbels,  trouts,  chevens,  perches,  smelts,  breams, 


roaches,  daces,  gudgeons,  iiounders,  shrimps,  eels, 
&c.,  are  commonly  to  be  had  therein,  I  refer  me  to 
them  that  know  by  experience  better  than  I,  by 
reason  of  their  daily  trade  of  fishing  in  the  same. 
And  albeit  it  seemeth  from  time  to  time  to  be,  as 
it  were,  defrauded  in  sundry  wise  of  these,  her  large 
commodities,  by  the  insatiable  avarice  of  fishermen ; 
yet  this  famous  river  complaineth  commonly  of  no 
want,  but  the  more  it  loseth  at  one  time  it  gaineth 
at  another.'' 

Stow  also  tells  us  that,  before  1569,  the  City  ditch, 
without  the  wall  of  the  City,  which  then  lay  open, 
"  contained  great  store  of  very  good  fish,  of  divers 
sorts,  as  many  yet  living  know,  who  have  taken  and 
tasted  them,  can  well  witness,  but  now  (he  says)  no 
such  matter.''     Sir  John  Hawkins,   in  his  edition 
of  Walton's  "Angler"  (1760),  mentions  that,  about 
thirty  years   before,  the  City  anglers  were  accus- 
tomed to  enjoy  their  sport  by  the  starlings  of  old 
London  Bridge.     "  In  the  memory  of  a  person  not 
long  since  living,  a  waterman  that  plied  at  Essex 
Stairs,  his  name  John  Reeves,  got  a  comfortable 
living  by  attending  anglers  with  his  boat.      His 
method  was   to  watch  when  the  shoals  of  roach 
came  down  from  the  country,  and,  when  he  had 
found  them,  to  gd  round  to  his -customers  and  give 
them  notice.      Sometimes    they  (the    fish)  settled 
opposite  the  Temple;  at  others,  at  Blackfiriars  or 
Queenhithe;  but  most  frequently  about  the  chalk 
hills  (the  deposit  of  chalk  rubble)  near  London 
Bridge.      His   hire   was   two  shiUings  a  tide.     A 
certain  number  of  persons  who  were  accustomed 
thus  to  employ  him  raised  a  sum  sufficient  to  buy 
him  a  waterman's  coat  and  silver  badge,  the  impress 
whereof  was  ' Himself,  with  an  angler  in  his  boat;' 
and  he  had  annually  a  new  coat  to  the  time  of  his 
death,  which  might  be  about  the  year  1730."     Mr. 
Goldham,  the    clerk    or   yeoman    of   Billingsgate 
Market,  stated  before  a  Parliamentary  Committee 
that,  in  1798,  400  fishermen,  each  of  whom  was 
the  owner  of  a  boat,  and  employed  a  boy,  obtained 
a  good  livelihood  by  the  exercise  of  their  craft 
between  Deptford  and  London,  above  and  below 
bridge,   taking    roach,    plaice,    smelts,    flounders, 
salmon,  shad,  eels,  gudgeon,  dace,  dabs,  &c.     Mr. 
Goldham   said  that   about    1810    he   had   known 
instances  of  as  many  as   ten   salmon  and  3,000 
smelts  being  taken  at  one  haul  up  the  river  towards 
Wandsworth,  and  50,000  smelts  were  brought  daily 
to  Billingsgate,  and  not  fewer  than  3,000  Thames 
salmon  in  the  season.     Some  of  the  boats  earned 
;^6  a  week,  and  salmon  was  sold  at  3  s.  and  4s.  a 
pound.     The  fishery  was  nearly  destroyed  at  the 
time  when  this  evidence  was  given,  in  1828.     Tlie 
masters  of  the  Dutch  eel-ships  stated  before  the 


4S 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Lower  Thames  Street. 


same  committee  that,  a  few  years  before,  they  could 
bring  their  live  eels  in  "  wells "  as  far  as  Gallion's 
Reach,  below  Woolwich;  but  now  (1828)  they 
were  obliged  to  stop  at  Erith,  amd  they  had  sus- 
tained serious  losses  from  the  deleterious  quality  of 
the  water,  which  killed  the  fish.  The  increase  of 
gas-works  and  of  manufactories  of  various  kinds, 
and  of  filth  disgorged  by  the  sewers,  will  sufficiently 
account  for  this  circumstance.  The  number  of 
Dutch  eel-vessels  which  bring  supplies  to  Billings- 


would  climb  up  bundles  of  weeds  for  a  moment's 
fresh  air. 

Bagford,  the  old  antiquary,  mentions  a  curious 
custom  that  once  prevailed  at  Billingsgate.  "  This," 
he  says,  speaking  of  an  old  custom  referred  to  in 
"  Hudibras,"  "  brings  to  my  mind  another  ancient 
custom  that  hath  been  omitted  of  late  years.  It 
seems  that  in  former  times  the  porters  that  plyd  at 
Billingsgate  used  civilly  to  entreat  and  desire  every 
man  that  passed  that  way  to  salute  a  post  that 


BILLINGSGATE.      {From  a  View  taken  in  1820.) 


gate  varied,  in  1842,  from  sixty  to  eighty  annually. 
They  brought  about  fifteen  hundredweight  of  fish 
each,  and  paid  a  duty  of  ^^13.  Mr.  Butcher,  an 
agent  for  Dutch  fishermen,  stated  before  the  com- 
mittee above  mentioned  that,  in  1827,  eight  Dutch 
vessels  arrived  with  full  cargoes  of  healthy  eels, 
about  14,000  pounds  each,  and  the  average  loss 
was  4,000  pounds.  Twelve  years  before,  when  the 
Thames  was  purer,  the  loss  was  only  thirty  pounds 
of  eels  a  night ;  and  the  witness  deposed  that  an 
hour  after  high  water  he  had  had  3,000  pounds  of 
eels  die  in  an  hour.  (How  singularly  this  accounts 
for  the  cheap  eel-pie  !)  The  river  had  been  getting 
worse  yearly.  Fish  were  often  seen  trying  to  save 
themselves  on  floating  pieces  of  wood,  and  flounders 


stood  there  in  a  vacant  place.  If  he  refiised  to 
do  this,  they  forthwith  laid  hold  of  him,  and  by 
main  force  bouped  him  against  the  post  j  but  if  he 
quietly  submitted  to  kiss  tlie  same,  and  paid  down 
sixpence,  they  gave  him  a  name,  and  chose  some 
one  of  the  gang  for  a  godfather.  I  believe  this 
was  done  in  memory  of  some  old  image  that  for- 
merly stood  there,  perhaps  of  Belus  or  Belin." 

Adjoining  Billingsgate,  on  the  east  side,  stood 
Smart's  Quay  or  Wharf,  which  we  find  noticed  in 
the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth  as  containing  an 
ingenious  seminary  for  the  instruction  of  young 
thieves.  The  following  extract  of  a  letter,  ad- 
dressed to  Lord  Burleigh,  in  July,  1585,  by  Fleet- 
wood, the  Recorder  of  London,  evinces  that  the 


Lower  Thames  Street.] 


THE  OLD   COAL  EXCHANGE. 


49 


"  art  and  mystery  "  of  picking  pockets  was  brought 
to  considerable  perfection  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury :-^ 

"Amongst  our  travels  this  one  matter  tumbled 
out  by  the  way.  One  Wotton,  a  gentleman  born, 
and  some  time  a  merchant  of  good  credit,  having 


and  over  the  top  did  hang  a  Uttle  searing-bell ;  and 
he  that  could  take  out  a  counter  without  any  noise, 
was  allowed  to  be  a  public  hoyster;  and  he  that 
could  take  a  piece  of  silver  out  of  the  purse  without 
the  noise  of  any  of  4he  bells,  he  was  adjudged  a 
judicial  nipper.     N.  B. — That  a  hoyster  is  a  pick- 


THE   OLD  COAL   EXCHANGE    (see  page  50). 


fallen  by  time  into  decay,  kept  an  ale-house  at 
Smart's  Key,  near  Billingsgate ;  and  after,  for  some 
misdemeanour,  being  put  down,  he  reared  up  a 
new  trade  of  life,  and  in  the  same  house  he  pro- 
cured all  the  cut-purses  about  this  city  to  repair  to 
his'said  house.  There  was  a  school-house  set  up 
to  learn  young  boys  to  cut  purses.  There  were 
hung  up  two  devices ;  the  one  was  a  pocket,  the 
other  was  a  purse.  The  pocket  had  in  it  certain 
counters,  and  was  hung  about  with  hawks'  bflls, 
53— Vol.  IIj 


pocket,  and  a  nipper  is  termed  a  pick-purse,  or  a 
cut-purse." 

The  Coal  Exchange  faces  the  site  of  Smart's 
Quay,  Billingsgate.  English  coal  is  first  mentioned 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  IIL,  who  granted  a  charter 
to  the  people  of  Newcastle,  empowering  them  to 
dig  it.  Soon  afterwards,  dyers,  brewers,  &c.,  began 
to  use  coal  in  their  trade,  and  the  nobles  and  gentry 
complaining  of  the  smoke,  a  severe  proclamation 
was  passed  against  the  use  of  sea-coal,  though  wood 


so 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Lower  Thames  Street, 


was  yearly  growing  scarcer  and  dearer.  Edward  I. 
also  issued  a  proclamation  against  the  use  of  coal. 
Nevertheless,  a  charter  of  Edward  II.  shows  Derby- 
shire coal  to  have  been  then  used  in  London. 
In  1590  (EHzabeth)  the  owners  of  the  Newcastle 
coal-pits,  combining,  raised  the  price  of  coals  from 
4s.  to  9s.  per  chaldron ;  and  the  following  year  the 
Lord  High  Admiral  claimed  the  coal  metage  in  the 
port  of  London.  The  mayor  and  citizens  disputed 
and  overthrew  this  claim,  and,  by  the  influence  of 
Lord  Treasurer  Burleigh,  obtained  the  Queen's  con- 
,firmation  of  the  City's  right  to  the  office.  At  one 
period  in  Elizabeth's,  reign  it  was  prohibited  to 
burn  stone-coal  during  the  session  of  Parliament 
for  fear  the  health  of  the  members  (country  gentle- 
men accustomed  to  their  wood-fires)  should  be 
injured.  Shakespeare  speaks  in  a  cozy  way  "  of  the 
latter  end  of  a  sea-coal  fire ;"  but  others  of  the 
.dramatists  abuse  coals ;  and  the  sea-coal  smoke  was 
supposed  to  have  much  injured  the  stone  of  old  St. 
Paul's.  In  1655  (Commonwealth)  the  price  of  coal 
in  London  was  usually  above  20s.  a  chaldron ;  and 
there  were  320  "keels'' at  Newcastle,  each  of  which 
carried  800  chaldrons,  Newcastle  measure;  and 
136  of  these  made  217  chaldrons,  London  measure. 
A  duty  of  only  is.  a  chaldron  was  paid  on  coals  in 
London,  yet  the  great  Protector  generously  granted 
the  Corporation  a  licence  to  import  400  chaldrons 
every  year  for  the  poor  citizens,  duty  free.  The 
coal-carts  numbered  420,  and  were  placed  under 
the  regulation  of  the  Presideni  and  Governors  of 
Christ's  Hospital ;  and  all  coal-sacks  and  measures 
were  illegal  unless  sealed  at  Guildhall.  It  was  also 
at  this  same  period  generously  provided  that  the 
City  companies  should  lay  up  stores  of  coal  in 
summer  (from  675  chaldrons  to  three,  according  to 
their  abihty),  to  be  retailed  in  the  winter  in  small 
quantities.  To  prevent  extortion,  conspiracy,  and 
monopoly,  retail  dealers,  by  the  same  Act,  were 
prohibited  under  penalties  from  contracting  for 
coals,  or  meeting  the  coal-vessels  before  they 
arrived  in  the  port  of  London. 

By  statute  16  and  17  Charles  II.,  all  sea-coal 
brought  into  the  river  Thames  was  to  be  sold  by 
the  chaldron,  containing  thirty-six  bushels ;  and  all 
other  coals  sold  by  weight  were  to  be  sold  after  the 
proportion  of  112  pounds  to  the  hundred  avoirdu- 
pois. By  the  12th  Queen  Anne,  the  coal  measure 
was  ordered  to  be  made  round,  and  to  contain  one 
Winchester  bushel  and  one  quart  of  water;  the 
sack  to  hold  three  such  bushels ;  the  bushel  to  be 
sealed  or  stahiped  at  the  Exchequer  Office  or  the 
Guildhall,  under  penalty  of  ^^50. 

In  1 713  the  master-meters  of  the  Coal  OflJce 
were  only  allowed  to  employ  or  dismiss  the  deputies 


sanctioned  by  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Aldermen.  An 
Act  of  George  II.  required  the  ancient  custom  to 
be  kept  up  of  giving  .one  chaldron  in  addition  to 
every  score  purchased  on  board  ship,  under  penalty 
of  ;^ioo.  This  bonus  was  called  ingrain,  and 
constituted  good  Pool  measure.  By  a  later  Act 
any  lighterman  receiving  any  gratuity  from  owners 
or  fitters  for  preference  in  the  quahty  in  lading 
ships  was  fined  ;^Soo.  All  bargains  for  coals  at 
Billingsgate  had  to  be  entered  on  the  factor's  book, 
signed  by  buyer  and  seller,  and  witnessed  by  the 
factor,  who  gave  a  copy  of  the  contract  to  each, 
, Masters  of  ships  were  fined  for  delaying  their 
cargoes  at  Gravesend. 

The  old  Coal  Exchange,  erected  in  1805,  for  the 
use  of  the  black-diamond  merchants,  was  a  quaint 
and  picturesque  building,  with  a.  receding  portico, 
supported  by  small  Doric  pillars,  and  with  some 
stone  steps,  that  led  into  a  quadrangle.  The  narrow 
windows  lit  the  upper  storeys.  The  present  Coal 
Exchange  was  opened  by  Prince  Albert  in  1849, 
and  Mr.  J.  B.  Bunning  was  the  architect.  The 
design  was  thought  original  yet  simple.  The  fronts 
in  Thames  Street  and  St.  Mary-at-Hill  are  112  feet 
wide  and  61  feet  high.  The  entrance  vestibule  is 
in  a  circular  tower  109  feet  high.  The  lowest 
storey  is  Roman-Doric ;  the  first  storey  Ionic.  The 
inner  rotunda  is  crowned  by  a  dome  74  feet  high, 
which  rests  on  eight  piers.  About  300  tons  of  iron 
were  used  in  the  building.  The  Raphaelesque 
decorations  were  designed  by  Mr.  Sang.  Above 
emblematical  figures  of  the  collier  rivers  are  figures 
of  the  Virtues,  and  over  these  are  groups  of  shells, 
snakes,  and  lizards.  In  some  of  the  arabesques 
the  leading  features  are  views  of  the  Wallsend, 
Percy,  Pitt  Main,  and  other  celebrated  collieries," 
adorned  with  groups  of  flowers  and  fossil  plants. 

While  digging  for  the  foundation  of  the  new 
building,  on  the  site  of  the  old  "  Dog  "  tavern,  the 
workmen  came  on  a  Roman  sweating-bath,  with 
tiled  floors  and  several  rooms.  This  hypocaust  is 
still  shoAitn. 

The  floor  of  the  rotunda  is  composed  of  inlaid 
woods,  disposed  in  form  of  a  mariner's  compass, 
within  a  border  of  Greek  fret.  The  flooring  con- 
sists of  upwards  of  4,000  piepes  of  wood,  of  various 
kinds.  The  varieties  of  wood  employed  comprise 
black  ebony,  black  oak,  common  and  red  English 
oak,  wainscot,  white  holly,  mahogany,  American 
elm,  red  and  white  walnut,  and  mulberry.  The 
appearance  of  this  floor  is  beautiful  in  the  extreme. 
The  whole  of  these  materials  were  prepared  by 
Messrs.  Davison  and  Symington's  patent  process  of 
seasoning  woods.  The  same  desiccating  process 
has  been  applied  to  the  wood-work  throughout  the 


Lower  Thames  Street.] 


THE   WATERMAN'S   COMPANY. 


51 


building.  The  black  oak  introduced  is  part  of  an 
old  tree  which  was  discovered  in  the  river  Tyne, 
where  it  had  unquestionably  lain  between  four  and 
five  centuries.  The  mulberry-wood,  of  which  the 
blade  of  the  dagger  in  the  shield  of  the  City  Arms 
is  composed,  is  a  piece  of  a  tree  planted  by  Peter 
the  Great,  when  he  worked  as  a  shipwright  in 
Deptford  Dockyard. 

"The  coloured  decorations  of  this  Exchange 
have  been  most  admirably  imagined  and  success- 
fully carried  out.  They  are  extremely  characteristic, 
and  on  this  point  deserve  praise.  The  entrance 
vestibule  is  peculiarly  rich  and  picturesque  in  its 
embellishments ;  terminal  figures,  vases  with  fruit, 
arabesque  foliage,  &c.,  all  of  the  richest  and  most 
glowing  colours,  fill  up  the  vault  of  the  ceiling; 
and,  looking  up  through  an  opening  in  the  ceiling, 
a  figure  of  Plenty  scattering  riches,  and  surrounded 
by  figiirini,  is  seen  painted  in  the  ceiling  of  the 
lantern.  Over  the  entrance  doorway,  within  a  sunk 
panel,  is  painted  the  City  Arms." 

The  Hall  of  the  Watermen's  Company  was  ori- 
ginally situated  at  Coldharbour,  near  the  "Three 
Cranes,"  in  the  Vintry,  and  is  referred  to  in  the 
statute  of  I  James  I.,  1603.  It  was  burnt,  with 
many  of  the  Company's  old  records,  in  the  Great 
Fire  of  1666,  but  was  again  rebuilt  in  the  old  place. 
It  was  rebuilt  once  more  in  1722,  and  in  1776  the 
Company  removed  to  St.  Mary-at-Hill,  BiUingsgate, 
where  it  now  remains,  Calvert's  brewery  occupying 
the  old  site.  In  1555  an  Act  was  passed,  directing 
that  the  Court  should  consist  of  eight  watermen,  to 
be  called  overseers  and  rulers,  to  be  annually  ap- 
pointed by  the  Court  of  Lord  Mayor  and  Aldermen. 
In  1 641  an  order  was  made  by  the  Court  of  Lord 
Mayor,  that  fifty-five  persons  at  the  different  stairs 
should  select  twenty  of  their  number  to  choose  the 
eight  rulers  to  carry  out  the  laws.  These  fifty-five 
persons  assumed  the  title  of  "assistants.'' 

In  ryoo  the  lightermen  of  the  City  were  incor- 
porated with  the  watermen  (called  Watermen  and 
Lightermen's  Company).  Three  lightenpen  were 
to  be  appointed  as  additional  overseers  and  rulers, 
and  a  court  of  forty  assistants.  In  r  7 29  an  Act  was 
passed  which  reduced  the  number  of  assistants  to 
thirty.  In  1827  a  new  Act  was  passed,  re-incor- 
porating the  Company,  to  consist  of  a  master,  four 
wardens,  and  twenty-one  assistants.  In  case  of 
vacancy  in  court,  the  court  were  to  select  three 
qualified  persons,  for  the  Court  of  Lord  Mayor,  &c., 
to  choose  one  to  fill  the  vacancy.  In  1859  an  Act 
was  passed,  by  which  the  court  were  empowered 
to  fill  up  vacancies,  without  reference  to  the  Court 
of  Lord  Mayor,  &c. 

The  various  Acts    passed  from    the    time    of 


Henry  VIII.  gave  power  to  the  Company  to  hold 
general  courts,  courts  of  binding,  and  courts  for 
hearing  and  determining  complaints,  and  to  punish 
offenders  by  fine  and  imprisonment;  power  to 
license  passenger-boats,  register  craft,  and  to  ap- 
point Sunday  ferries,  the  rent  of  which  has  always 
been  applied  to  the  relief  of  the  poor  of  the  Com- 
pany, and  to  make  bye-laws  for  the  regulation  of 
boats,  barges,  and  steam-boats  on  the  river,  and  the 
men  navigating  the  same.  There  are  about  350 
apprentices  bound  annually,  and  about  250  com- 
plaints are  investigated  during  the  year.  The  in- 
troduction of  steam  greatly  reduced  the  watermen, 
but  the  lightermen  and  barges  have  been  annually 
increasing.  There  are  now  about  6,000  freemen  of 
the  Company,  and  2,000  apprentices.  The  court 
distribute  about  _;^i,6oo  per  annum,  out  of  their 
ferry-rents,  in  pensions  to  400  poor  freemen  and 
widows.  Forty  almshouses  have  been  established 
at  Penge,  supported  by  theVoluntary  contributions 
of  the  pubHc. 

The  fares  of  the  Thames  watermen  and  wherry- 
men  were  regulated  by  Henry  VIII.  in  1514. 
Taylor,  the  water-poet,  temp.  EUzabeth,  states  the 
watermen  between  Windsor  and  Gravesend  at 
40,000.  A  third  statute  regulates  the  dimensions 
of  the  boats  and  wherries,  then  dangerously  "  shal- 
low and  tickle;''  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Aldermen 
to  limit  the  watermen's  fares,  if  confirmed  by  the 
Privy  Council.  Strype  was  told  by  one  of  the 
Company  that  there  were  40,000  wateriiien  upon 
their  rolls;  that  they  could  furnish  20,000  men  for 
the  fleet,  and  that  8,000  were  then  in  the  service. 
Taylor,  the  water-poet,  with  his  fellow-watermen, 
violently  opposed  the  introduction  of  coaches  as 
|rade-spoilers.  The  Company  (says  Mr.  Timbs) 
condemned  the  building  of  Westminster  and  Black- 
friars  bridges,  as  an  injury  to  the  ferries  between 
Vauxhall  and  the  Temple,  the  profits  of  which  were 
given  to  the  poor,  aged,  decayed,  and  maimed 
watermen  and  their  widows  ;  and  in  both  cases  the 
Company  were  compensated  for  their  losses.  The 
substitution  of  steam-boats  for  wherries  has,  how- 
ever, been  as  fatal  to  the  watermen  as  railways  to 
stage-coachmen. 

'  The  Lord  High  Admiral,  or  the  Commissioners 
of  the  Admiralty,  used  to  have  power  to  demand  a 
certain  number  of  watermen  to  serve  in  the  Royal 
Navy,  by  an  Act  of  William  and  Mary;  and  in  1796 
nearly  4,000  watermen  were  thus  enrolled.  The 
ribald  banter  of  the  Thames  watermen  was  for- 
merly proverbial,  and  is  mentioned  by  Ned  Ward, 
and  nearly  all  the  essayists.  Dr.  Johnson,  Boswell 
says,  was  particularly  proud  of  having  silenced 
some  watermen  who  tried  to  ridicule  him.     By  a,n 


S2 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[Lower  Tlmmes  Street. 


order  of  the  Company  in  1761,  this  foul  kind  of 
extemporaneous  satire  was  forbidden  by  the  rulers 
and  auditors  of  the  Company ;  and  any  waterman 
or  apprentice  convicted  of  using  indecent  language 
was  fined  2s.  6d.  for  each  offence ;  the  fines  to  go 
to  the  use  of  the  "  poor,  aged,  decayed,  and 
maimed  members  of  the  Company,  their  widows 
and  children." 

All  wherries  were  formerly  required  to  be  i2|- 
feet  long  and  4I  broad  in  the  midships,  under  pain 
of  forfeiture ;  and  all  wherries  and  boats  were  to  be 
entered  and  numbered.  Extortion  and  abuse  was 
punishable  by  fine 
and  imprison- 
ment. A  statute 
(34  George  III.) 
placed  the  water- 
men more  imme- 
diately under  the 
mayor's  jurisdic- 
tion; and  the 
highest  penalty 
was  fixed  at  ^5. 

Before  the  time 
of  steamboats,  a 
bell  used  to  ring 
at  Gravesend  at 
high  water,  as  a 
warning  to  hurry 
off  the  .London 
watermen.  A  re- 
port of  the  Dock 
Committee  /  in 
1796  shows  that 
there  were  then 
12,283  watermen, 
8,283  freemen, 
2,000  non-free- 
men, and  2,000  apprentices;  the  annual  num- 
ber of  apprentices  being  from  200  to  300,  In 
1828  there  were  above  "  3,000  wherries  on  the 
Thames. 

When  the  opening  of  Blackfriars  Bridge  de- 
stroyed the  landing  ferry  there,  established  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Waterman's  Poor  Fund,  the  bridge 
committee  gave  ;£'i3,65o  Consolidated  Three  per 
Cents  to  the  rulers  of  the  Company,  as  a  recom- 
pense, and  the  interest  is  now  appropriated  to  the 
same  purpose  as  the  ferry-fund  used  to  be. 

Close  to  Waterman's  Hall  is  the  Fellowship 
Porters'  Hall.  This  brotherhood  was  incorporated 
as  early  as  1155  (Henry  II.),  and  re-incorporated 
in  1 6 13  (James  I.).  The  business  of  the  Fellowship 
Porters,  which  is  now  less  strictly  defined*  than  in 
old  times,  is  to  cany  or  house  com,  salt,  coals,  fish. 


THE   CUSTOM   HOUSE — TIME  OF  ELIZABETH. 


and  fruit  of  all  descriptions.  There  were  formerly 
about  3,000  Fellowship  Porters ;  there  are  now 
about  1,500.  The  Ticket  Porters  and  Tackle 
Porters  have  no  hall.  The  fraternity  of  Fellow- 
ship Porters  had  the  power,  by  an  Act  of  Council 
of  1646,  to  choose  twelve  rulers,  the  Lord  Mayor 
and  Aldermen  reserving  the  right  to  appoint  one 
of  the  number.  There  are  now  six  rulers.  The- 
governor,  deputy-governor,  and  deputy  of  the  ward 
act  as  superintendents  of  the  Company.  The 
Company  has  no  livery  or  arms,  and  ranks  the 
nineteenth  in  the  order  of  precedence. 

In    accordance 
with  a  pretty  old 
_.:^    ^g5s_  custom,  every  Sun- 

day before  Mid- 
summer Day  a  ser- 
mon is  preached 
to  the  Fellowship 
Porters  in  the 
church  of  St.  Mary- 
at-Hill.  They 
overnight  furnish 
the  merchants 
and  families  above 
BiUingsgate  with 
nosegays,  and  in 
the  morning  pro- 
ceed from  the  hall 
to  the  church,  two 
and  two,  carrying 
nosegays.  They 
walk  up  the  mid- 
dle aisle  to  the 
communion  -table,, 
and  each  places 
an  offering  in  one 
of  the  two  basins 
on  the  communion-rails,  for  the  relief  of  the  Com- 
pany's poor ;  and  after  they  have  prayed,  the  deputy, 
the  merchants,  their  wives,  children,  and  servants 
walk  in  'order  from  their  seats,  and  perform  the 
same  solemnity.  The  annual  cost  of  the  nosegays 
amounts  to  nearly  ;£'2o.    ' 

And  now  we  come  to  that  great  Government 
toll-bar,  the  Customs  House.  The  first  building  of 
this  kind  in  London  was  rebuilt  by  John  Church- 
man, Sheriff  of  London,  in  1385  (Richard  II.), 
and  it  stood  on  the  site  of  the  present  buildings. 
Another  and  larger  edifice,  erected  in  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth,  was  destroyed  by  the  Great  Fire.  A 
new  Custom  House,  built  by  Wren,  was  destroyed 
by  fire  in  17 15,  and  its  successor,  the  design  by 
Ripley,  was  burnt  down  February  12,  181 4.  > 

In  Elizabeth's  time,  the  farmers  of  the  Customs 


Lower  Thames  Street.] 


THE  PRESENT  CUSTOM  HOUSE. 


S3 


made  immense  fortunes.  A  chronicler  of  her  reign 
says:  "About  this  time  (1590)  the  commodity  of 
the  Custom  House  amounted  to  an  unexpected 
value ;  for  the  Queen,  being  made  acquainted,  by 
means  of  a  subtle  fellow,  named  Caerwardine, 
with  the  mystery  of  their  gains,  so  enhariced  the 
rate,  that  Sir  Thomas  Smith,  Master  of  the  Custom 
House,  who  heretofore  farmed  it  of  the  Queen 
for  ^14,000  yearly,  was  now  augmented  to 
jQ^2,ooo,  and  aftenvards  to  ^£^50,000,  which, 
notwithstanding,  was  valued  but  as  an  ordinary 
sum  for  such  oppressing  gaine.  The  Lord  Trea- 
surer, the  Earls  of  Leicester  and  Walsingham, 
much  opposed  themselves  against  this  Caerwar- 
dine, denying  him  entrance  into  the  Privy  Cham- 
ber, insomuch  that,  expostulating  with  the  Queen 
they  traduced  her  barkening  to  such  a  fellow's 
information,  to  the  disparagement  of  the  judgment 
of  her  Council,  and  the  discredit  of  their  case. 
But  the  Queen  answered  them,  that  all  princes 
ought  to  be,  if  not  as  favourable,  yet  as  just,  to 
the  lowest  as  the  highest,  deciding  that  they  who 
falsely  accuse  her  Privy  Council  of  sloth  or  in- 
discretion should  be  severely  punished;  but  that 
they  who  justly  accused  them  should  be  heard. 
That  she  was  Queen  as  well  to  the  poorest  as  to 
the  proudest,  and  that,  therefore,  she  would  never 
be  deaf  to  their  just  complaints.  Likewise,  that  she 
would  not  suffer  that  those  toll-takers,  like  horse-  ] 
leeches,  should  glut  themselves  with  the  riches  of 
the  realm,  and  starve  her  exchequer ;  which,  as  she 
will  not  bear  it  to  be  docked,  so  hateth  she  to 
enrich  it  with  the  poverty  of  the  people." 

The  revenue  has  grown  like  the  green  bay-tree 
of  the  Psalmist.  In  the  first  year  of  Elizabeth, 
the  Customs  realised  £,"] :i,?,/^6 ;  in  her  fifth  year, 
^^57,436 ;  in  her  tenth,  £ta,^1S-  The  average  of 
sixteen  years,  before  the  Restoration,  was  ;j£"3 16,402. 
In  Elizabeth's  time  the  Custom  House  estabUsh- 
ment  consisted  of  eight  principal  officers,  each  of 
whom  had  from  two  to  six  men  under  him ;  but 
the  principal  waiter  had  as  many  as  sixteen  sub- 
ordinates. From  167 1  to  1688,  says  D'Avenant, 
the  first  inspector-general  of  imports  and  exports, 
the  revenue  derived  from  the  Enghsh  Customs 
averaged  ;£'S5S,75 2  a  year.  From  1700  to  1714, 
the  Customs  averaged  ;^i, 352,764-  At  the  close 
of  the  century  they  exceeded  ;£6,ooo,ooo.  They 
now  exceed  ;£'2o,ooo,ooo. 

The  Custom  House  built  after  the  Great  Fire 
was  said  to  have  cost  ;^io,ooo.  The  new  Custom 
House  of  17 18  had  better-arranged  apartments  and 
accommodation  for  a  greater  number  of  clerks. 
The  new  building  was  189  feet  long,  and  the  centre 
ag  feet  deep.    It  was  built  of  brick  and  stone,  and 


the  wings  had  a  passage  colonnade  of  the  Tuscan 
order,  towards  the  river,  the  upper  storey  being 
relieved  by  Ionic  pilasters  and  pediments.  The 
great  feature  of  the  building  was  the  "  Long  Room," 
which,  extending  th^  whole  length  of  the  centre, 
was  127  feet  long,  29  wide,  and  24  high.  Here 
several  commissioners  superintended  personally  the 
numerous  officers  and  clerks  of  various  departments. 
This  building,  already  too  small  for  the  ever- 
growing commerce  of  London,  was  destroyed,  as 
before  mentioned,  in  1814,  by  a  fire,  which  also 
destroyed  ten  houses  on  the  north  side  of  Thames 
Street.  Cellars  and  warehouses  full  of  valuable 
property,  and  stores  of  documents  and  records, 
were  also  lost.  But,  several  years  before  this 
catastrophe,  the  enlargement  of  the  Custom  House 
had  been  planned.  It  had  been  at  first  proposed 
to  build  an  additional  wing,  but  on  a  survey  the 
old  building  was  found  too  much  decayed  and 
dilapidated  to  warrant  much  expenditure  on  its 
renovation.  The  Lords  of  the  Treasury  selected 
Mr.  Laing's  design.  Between  the  old  Custom 
House  and  Billingsgate  there  had  been  eight  quays, 
equal  to  479  feet ;  but  the  site  now  selected  was 
immediately  east  of  Billingsgate,  with  only  a  landing- 
stair  between.  It  had  been  suggested  to  place  the 
Custom  House  on  the  north  side  of  Thames  Street, 
so  as  to  save  the  expense  of  embankment ;  but  this 
would  have  necessitdted  the  widening  of  many 
narrow  and  crooked  streets,  and  the  formation  of 
two  docks,  one  east  and  one  west  of  the  quay. 
The  estimate  for  the  new  building  was  ;£i  65,000, 
exclusive  of  the  formation  of  the  foundation-ground 
and  some  other  contingencies.  The  owners  of 
private  property  claimed  ^84,478,  and  were  paid 
;^4i,7oo.  The  materials  of  the  old  building  were 
sold  for  ;^i  2,400.  The  first  necessity  was  to  test 
the  substratum.  The  soil  was  bored  with  huge 
augers  that  screwed  down  eighteen  to  twenty  feet. 
A  substratum  of  close  gravel,  at  first  promising  well, 
proved  to  be  artificial.  .  The  whole  ground,  from 
the  level  of  the  river  to  the  south  side  of  Thames 
Street,  proved  to  have  once  been  part  of  the  bed 
of  the  river.  Rushes  were  found  mixed  with 
mussel-shells  and  the  chrysalids  of  water  insects. 
The  workmen  also  came  on  three  distinct  lines  of 
wooden  embankments  at  the  distances  of  58,  86, 
and  103  feet  within  the  range  of  the  existing 
wharves;  and  about  fifty  from  the  campshot,  or 
under  edge  of  the  wharf  wall,  a  wall  built  of  chalk 
and  rubble,  and  faced  with  Purbeck  stone,  was 
discovered,  running  east  and  west.  This  was,  no 
doubt,  the  river  rampart  of  London,  mentioned  by 
Fitzstephen.  It  was  so  strongly  bmilt  that  it  could 
scarcely  be  broken  even  by  iron  wedges.     Many 


54 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


tLower  Thames  Street. 


coins  and  other  Roman  antiquities  were  found. 
Rows  of  piles,  twenty-eight  and  thirty  feet  long, 
were  then  sunk,  and  on  these  were  placed  sleepers 
of  beech  fitted  in  with  brickwork. 

The  first  stone  of  the  new  building  was  laid  in 
1813,  by  Lord  Liverpool,  then  First  Lord  of  the 
Treasury,  and  was  opened  for  business,  May  12, 
181 7.  The  north  side,  fronting  Thames  Street, 
was  plain,   but   on   the  south  front,   towards   the 


cheaply  or  too  quickly,  and  the  foundation  gave 
way.  This  was  bitterly  complained  of  in  a  Parlia- 
mentary Committee  of  1828,  when  it  was  stated 
that  this  failure  had  led  to  a  charge  of  nearly 
;!^i8o,ooo,  in  addition  to  the  original  expenditure 
of  .;^225,ooo.  The  Long  Room  eventually  had 
to  be  taken  down  by  Mr.  Laing,  the  architect,  the 
foundations  relaid,  and  the  allegorical  figures  re- 
moved. 


THE   PRESENT   COAL   EXCHANGE. 


river,  the  central  compartment  projected,  and  the 
wings  had  a  hexastyle  detached  Ionic  colonnade. 
The  central  attic,  comprising  the  exterior  of  the 
celebrated  Long  Room,  was  decorated  with  alto 
and  basso  relievos,  representing  in  allegorical 
groups  the  Arts,  Sciences,  Commerce,  Industry,  and 
types  of  the  nations  who  are  our  principal  com- 
mercial allies.  The  dial-plate,  nine  feet  in  dia- 
meter, was  supported  by  colossal  figures  of  Industry 
and  Plenty,  while  the  royal  arms  were  sustained  by 
figures  of  Ocean  and  Commerce.  The  Long  Room 
Was  T96  feet  by  66. 

Unfortunately,  however,  the  work  was  done  too 


The  quay  is  too  narrow  to  afford  a  good  view, 
but  there  is  a  simple  grandeur  about  the  design, 
when  seen  from  the  bridge  or  river.  The  water 
front,  says  Mr.  Piatt,  is  488  feet,  90  feet  longer 
than  the  old  Post  Office,  and  30  feet  longer  than 
the  National  Gallery. 

The  number  of  officers  and  clerks  in  this  great 
public  office  IS  over  600,  out  and  in.  The  out-door 
employes  are  about  300.  The  inspectors-general 
supermtend  the  tide-surveyors,  tide-waiters,  and 
watermen,  and  appoint  them  their  daily  duty,  each 
mspector  attending  in  rotation  at  Gravesend.  The 
tide-surveyors  visit  ships  reported  inwards  or  out- 


Lower  "JThames  Street.] 


THE  CUSTOM   HOUSE  STAFF. 


55 


56 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Lower  Thames  Street. 


wards,  to  see  that  the  tide-waiters  put  on  board 
discharge  their  duty  properly.  The  tide-waiters,  if 
the  vessel  is  coming  in,  remain  on  board,  unless 
the  vessel  be  in  the  docks,  like  men  in  possession, 
till  the  carga  is  discharged.  The  landing-officers, 
under  the  superintendence  of  the  surveyors,  attend 
the  quays  and  docks,  and  take  a  note  of  goods  as 
they  are  craned  on  shore,  and  on  the  receipt  of 
warrants  showing  that  the  duties  are  paid,  permit 
the  delivery  of  goods  for  home  consumption.  The 
officers  of  the  coast  department  attend  to  vessels 
arriving  and  departing  between  London  and  the  out- 
ports,  and  give  permits  for  landing  their  cargoes, 
and  take  bonds  for  the  delivery  at  their  destination 
of  goods  sent  coastwise.  They  appoint  the  cpast- 
waiters,  who  attend  the  shipping,  and  discharge  all 
coastwise  goods.  The  searchers  see  to  all  goods 
shipped  for  abroad,  the  entries  of  which,  after 
passing  the  Long  Room,,  are  placed  in  their  hands, 
and  they  examine  the  packages,  to  see  that  they 
duly  correspond.  As  the  amount  of  work  fluctuates, 
and  when  a  special  wind  blows,  flocks  of  vessels 
arrive  together,  the  number  of  supernumeraries 
employed  at  the  Custom  House  is  very  large. 
There  are  sometimes,  says  a  good  authority,  as 
many  as  2,000  persons  a  day  working  at  Custom 
House  business  between  Grayesend  and  London 
Bridge. 

The  Long  Room  is  the  department  where  most  of 
the  documents  required  by  the  Customs'  Laws  are 
received  by  officials.  The  first  thing  necessary 
upon  the  arrival  of  a  vessel  from  a  foreign  country 
is  the  report  of  the  ship,  that  is,  the  master  must, 
within  twenty-four  hours  of  entering  the  port,  deliver 
at  the  Report  Office  in  the  Long  Room  an  account 
of  her  cargo.  Then,  before  any  goods  are  delivered 
out  of  charge  by  the  officers  of  the  out-door  depart- 
ment, who  board  and  watch  vessels  on  their  arrival, 
entries  of  the  goods  passed  also  in  the  Long  Room 
must  have  reached  the  officers.  These  entries 
are  documents  giving  particulars  of  the  goods  in 
greater  detail  than  is  required  in  the  master's  report, 
and  are  delivered  in  the  Long  Ropm  by  the  con- 
agnees  of  the  cargo,  or  by  their  representatives. 
A  single  entry  may  suffice  for  an  entire  cargo,  if  it 
be  all  of  one  kind  of  goods  and  be  the  property  of 
one  person,  or  any  number  of  entries  may  be 
necessary  if  the  cargo  be  varied  in  nature.  The 
report  and  the  entries — that  is,  the  account  of  the 
cargo  rendered  by  the  master  and  that  supplied 
by  the  consignees — ^are  compared,  and  delivery  of 
goods,  not  mentioned  in  the  report,  though  correctly 
entered,  is  refused  until  the  omission  has  been 
satisfactorily  explained.  In  the  case  of  goods  liable 
to  duty,  the  entries  are  not  suffered  to  leave  the 


Long  Room  until  it  is  ascertained  that  the  payment 
has  been  made.  The  entry  for  such  goods,  when 
signed  by  the  Long  Room  officers,  in  testimony  of 
its  having  been  passed  by  them,  vouches  for  the 
payment  of  the  duty,  and  constitutes  the  warrant 
authorising  the  officers  at  the  waterside  to  dehvar 
the  goods.  Such  is  the  general  course  of  routine 
applicable  to  vessels  arriving  from  foreign  ports. 
The  officers  of  the  Long  Room  sit  at  their  desks 
along  the  four  sides.  The  visitors  are  chiefly 
weather-beaten  sea-captains,  shipowners,  and  ship- 
owners' clerks,  who  come  and  report  arrivals  or 
obtain  clsarances,  and  wholesale  merchants,  who 
have  goods  to  import  or  export,  or  goods  to  place 
in  bond. 

A  correct  account  is  also  required  of  the  cargoes 
of  vessels  sailing  from  this  country,  and  the  docu- 
ments by  which  this  is  obtained  are  presented  in  the 
Searcher's  Office  in  the  Long  Room  either  by  the 
shippers  of  the  goods  or  by  the  master  of  the  vessel. 
The  operation  performed  in  the  Long  Room  by  the 
master  of  an  outward-bound  ship,  which  con-e- 
sponds  to  the  reporting  of  an  arriving  vessel,  is 
termed  "clearing"  or  "obtaining  clearance." 

The  documents  required  from  the  masters  of 
vessels  engaged  in  trade  from  one  port  of  the 
United  Kingdom  to  another,  termed  "coasting 
trade,"  are  less  elaborate. 

From  the  particulars  obtained  by  the  various 
papers  thus  delivered  in  the  Long  Room,  are  pre- 
pared the  monthly  returns  of  trade  and  navigation, 
published  by  the  Board  of  Trade,  and  the  collection 
and  arrangement  of  the  information  so  obtained 
occupies  a  large  staff  of  clerks  in  the  Statistical 
Department  of  the  Custom  House. 

At  each  outport  the  room  where  the  business 
described  above  is  transacted  bears  the  name  of 
the  Long  Raom,  although  in  most  cases  it  is  neither 
long  n,or  in  any  other  way  extensive. 

The  estabUshment  of  docks  surrounded  by  high 
walls,  from  which  goods  can  be  removed  only 
through  gateways  easily  guarded,  has  made  it 
possible  to  provide  for  the  security  of  the  duties 
upon  importations  with  a  far  less  numerous  staff  of 
officers  than  would  be  necessary  if  every  vessel 
discharged  in  the  river  or  at  open  quays.  And  the 
gradual  reduction  which  has  taken  place  in  the 
number  of  articles  in  the  tariff  liable  to  duty  during 
the  last  thirty  years  renders  a  less  rigid  examination 
of  goods  necessary  than  was  previously  requisite. 
These  and  other  causes  enable  the  present  reduced 
staff  to  deal  efficiently  with  an  amount  of  business 
to  which  under  former  circumstanctes  it  would  have 
been  wholly  inadequate. 

The  warehousing  system,  which  consisted  in  per- 


Lower  Thames  Street.^ 


CURIOSITIES   OF  THE   CUSTOMS. 


57 


mitting  the  payment  of  duties  upon  goods  deposited 
under  Crown  locks  in  warehouses  duly  approved 
for  the  purpose  by  the  Board  of  Customs,  to  be 
deferred  until  the  goods  are  wanted  for  consump- 
tion, offers  great  facilities  to  trade,  and  is  largely 
availed  of.  This  system  involves  the  keeping  of 
very  elaborate  accounts,  which  form  the  duty  of  the 
warehousing  departments. 

Of  the  170  or  so  distinct  apartments  in  the 
Custom  House,  all  classified  and  combined  to  unite 
order  and  contiguity,  the  king  is  the  Long  Room, 
190  feet  long,  66  wide,  and  between  40  and  50 
feet  high.  The  eye  cannot  take  in  at  once  its 
breadth  and  its  length,  but  it  is  not  so  handsome 
as  the  room  that  fell  in,  to  the  dismay  of  Mr.  Peto. 
The  floor  is  plank.  The  cellars  in  the  basement 
form  a  groined  fireproof  crypt. 

The  rooms  are  perfectly  plain,  all  but  the  Board 
Room,  which  is  slightly  decorated,  and  contains 
portraits  of  George  III.  and  George  IV.,  the  latter 
by  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence.  The  Queen's  Ware- 
house is  on  the  ground  floor.  The  entrance  to  the 
Custom  House  is  on  the  north  front.  On  the 
southern  side  there  is  an  entrance  from  the  quay 
and  river. 

Nearly  one-half  of  the  Customs  of  the  United 
Kingdom,  says  a  writer  on  the  subject,  are  col- 
lected in  the  port  of  London.  In  1840,  while  the 
London  Customs  were  _;^ii, 116,685,  the  total  of 
the  United  Kingdom  were  only  ;^23,34i,8i3.  In 
the  same  year  the  only  place  approaching  London 
was  Liverpool,  where  the  Customs  amounted  to 
^^4,607,326.  In  1849  the  London  Customs  were 
;^ii,o7o,i76.  The  same  year  the  declared  value 
of  the  exports  from  Liverpool  amounted  to  no  less 
than  .;^33,34i,9i8,  or  nearly  three  times  the  value 
of  the  exports  from  London,  for  in  foreign  trade 
London  is  surpassed  by  Liverpool.  Mr.  M'Culloch 
estimates,  including  the  home  and  foreign  markets, 
the  total  value  of  produce  conveyed  into  and  from 
London  annually  at  _;^65, 000,000  sterling. 

The  number  of  foreign  vessels  that  entered  the 
port  of  London  in  the  year  1841  was  estimated  at 
8,167,  ^^^  thfi  number  of  coasters  at  21,122.  The 
expense  of  collecting  the  Customs  in  Great  Britain 
alone  is  calculated  at  over  a  million  sterling.  The 
Board  of  Commissioners,  that  sits  at  the  Custom 
House,  has  all  the  outports  of  the  United  Kingdom 
under  its  superinteHdence.  It  receives  reports 
from  them,  and  issues  instructions  from  the  central 
Board.  The  recording  of  the  business  of  the  great 
national  firm,  now  performed  by  the  Statistical 
Office  in  the  CuStom  House,  was  attempted  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  II.,  and  urged  on  the  Commis- 
sioners  of  Customs  by  the  bewildered  Privy  Council 


for  Trade;. but  it  was  declared,  after  many  trials,  y 
to  be  impossible.  It  was  first  really  begun  in  the  ^ 
business-hke  reign  of  William  III.,  when  the  broad 
arrow  was  first  used  to  check  thefts  of  Government 
property,  and  when  the  ofifice  of  Inspector-General 
of  Imports  and  Exports  was  established,  and  the 
Custom  House  ledger,  to  record  their  value,  first 
started.  The  Act  of  1694  required  all  goods  ex- 
ported and  ihiported  to  be  entered  in  the  Custom 
House  books,  with  the  prices  aflSxed.  Cotton, 
therefore,  was  taxed  at  this  the  official  value,  till 
1798.  In  this  year  the  Government  imposed  a 
convoy  duty  of  four  per  cent.,  ad  valorem,  upon  all 
exports ;  and  to  do  this  equitably,  every  shipper  of 
goods  was  compelled  to  make  a  declaration  of  their 
then  actual  value.  This  was  what  is  called  "the 
declared  or  real  value."  A  daily  publication,  called 
the  "  Bill  of  Entry,"  is  issued  at  the  Custom  House, 
to  report  the  imports  and  exports  and  the  arrival 
and  clearance  of  vessels. 

Prior  to  the  year  1825,  says  a  writer  in  Knight's 
"London,"  the  statutes  relating  to  the  Customs 
had  accumulated,  from  the  reign  of  Edward  I.,  to 
1,500,  and  were  naturally  as  confusing  and  entan- 
gled as  they  were  contradictory.  Mr.  Huskisson, 
Mr.  J.  D.  Hume,  and  ^entually  the  slow-moving 
Board  of  Trade,  at  last  revised  the  statutes,  and 
consolidated  them  into  eleven  acts.  They  were 
still  further  simpUfied  in  1833,  and  again  con- 
soHdated  in  1853.  One  of  the  Acts  passed  in 
1833  enumerates  not  fewer  than  1,150  different 
rates  of  duty  chargeable  on  imported  articles,  while 
the  main  source  of  revenue  is  derived  from  a  very 
small  number  of  articles.  "  For  example,"  says 
a  writer  on  the  subject,  "the  duty  on  seventeen 
articles  produced,  in  1839,  about  94J  per  cent,  of 
the  total  revenue  of  Customs,  the  duties  on  other 
articles  being  not  only  comparatively  unproductive, 
but  vexatious  and  a  hindrance  to  the  merchants, 
shipowners,  and  others.  In  the  above  year,  forty- 
six  articles  were  productive  of  98|-  per  cent,  of  the 
total  Customs'  revenue. 

"The  occasional  importation  of  articles  which 
are  not  enumerated  in  the  tariff  of  duties  is  often 
productive  of  amusing  perplexity.  Mr.  Huskisson 
mentioned  a  case  of  this  nature  when  he  brought 
forward  the  plans  of  consoUdation  already  men- 
tioned. A  gentleman  had  imported  a  mummy 
from  Egypt,  and  the  officers  of  Customs  were  not  a 
little  puzzled  by  this  non-enumerated  article.  These 
remains  of  mortality,  muscles  and  sinews,  pickled 
and  preserved  three  thousand  years  ago,  coujd  not 
be  deemed  a  raw  material,  and  therefore,  upon 
deliberation,  it  was  determined  to  tax  them  as  a 
manufactured  article,    The  importer,  anxious  th9.t 


58 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Lower  Thames  Street. 


his  mummy  should  not  be  seized,  stated  its  value 
at  .;^4oo;  and  the  declaration  cost  him  ;^2oo, 
being  at  the  rate  of  ;£s°  Per  cent,  on  the  manufac- 
tured merchandise  which  he  was  about  to  import. 
Mr.  Huskisson  reduced  the  duties  on  non-enu- 
merated manufactured  articles  from  ;^5o  to  ;^2o 
per  cent.,  and  of  non-enumerated  unmanufactured 
articles  from  ;^20  to  ;£io  per  cent."  A  somewhat 
similar  case,  relating  to  an  importation  of  ice  from 
Norway,  was  mentioned  in  a  debate  in  the  House 
of  Lords  in  1842.  A  doubt  was  started  what  duty 
it  ought  to  pay,  and  the  point  was  referred  from 
the  Custom  House  to  the  Treasury,  and  from  the 
Treasury  to  the  Board  of  Trade;  and  it  was  ulti- 
mately decided  that  the  ice  might  be  introduced  on 
the  payment  of  the  duty  on  dry  goods ;  but,  as  one 
of  the  speakers  remarked,  "The  ice  was  dissolved 
before  the  question  was  solved." 

In  the  time  of  Charles  I.  the  Customs  were 
farmed,  and  we  find  Garrard  writing  to  Lord 
Stafford,  January  nth,  1634,  mentioning  that  the 
farmers  of  the  Customs  (rejoicing  over  their  good 
bargains,  no  doubt),  had  been  unusually  liberal  in 
their  new  year's  gifts  to  the  king,  having  sent  him, 
besides  the  usual  2,000  pieces,  ;^5,ooo  in  pieces, 
and  an  unset  diamond  that  had  cost  them  ;^5,ooo. 
Yet  what  a  small  affair  the  Customs  must  have 
been  compared  to  now,  when  sugar,  tea,  tobacco, 
wine,  and  brandy  produce  each  of  them  more  than 
a  million  a  year  ! 

Defoe  says,  "  In  the  Long  Room  it's  a  pretty 
pleasure  to  see  the  multitude  of  payments  that  are 
made  there  in  a  morning.  I  heard  Count  Tallard 
say  that  nothing  gave  him  so  true  and  great  an  idea 
of  the  richness  and  grandeur  of  this  nation  as  this, 
when  he  saw  it  after  the  Peace  of  Ryswiek." 

Mr.  Piatt's  account  of  the  working  of  the  Custom 
House  system  of  thirty  years  ago  shows  a  remark- 
able contrast  with  that  of  the  present  day.  Writing 
in  the  year  1853,  he  says,  "The  progress  of  an 
article  of  foreign  merchandise  through  the  Customs 
to  the  warehouse  or  shop  of  the  dealer  is  as 
follows  : — First,  on  the  arrival  of  the  ship  at 
Gravesend,  tide-waiters  are  put  on  board  and 
remain  until  she  reaches  the  appointed  landing- 
place.  The  goods  are  reported  and  entered  at  the 
Custom  House,  and  a  warrant  is  transmitted  to  the 
landing-waiters,  who  superintend  the  unloading  of 
the  cargo.  A  landing-waiter  is  specially  appointed 
to  each  ship  ;  officers  under  him,  some  of  whom 
are  gaugers,  examine,  weigh,  and  ascertain  the  con- 
tents of  the  several  packages,  and  enter  an  account 
of  them.  These  operations  are  subject  to  the 
daily  inspection  of  superior  officers.  When  ware- 
li9used,  the  goods  are  in  charge  of  a  locker,  who  is 


under  the  warehouse-keeper.  When  goods  are 
delivered  for  home  consumption,  the  locker  re- 
ceives a  warrant  from  the  Custom  House  certifying 
that  the  goods  had  been  paid ;  he  then  looks  out 
the  goods,  and  the  warehouse-keeper  signs  the 
warrant.  When  foreign  or  colonial  goods  are  ex- 
ported, the  process  is  more  complicated.  The 
warehouse-keeper  makes  out  a  '  re-weighing  slip ;' 
a  landing-waiter  examines  the  goods,  which  con- 
tinue in  the  charge  of  the  locker,  and  a  cocket, 
with  a' certificate  from  the  proper  officers  at  the 
Custom  House,  as  his  authority  for  their  delivery. 
The  warehouse-keeper  signs  this  document,  and 
a  counterpart  of  the  cocket,  called  a  'shipping 
bill,'  is  prepared  by  the  exporting  merchant. 
The  goods  pass  from  the  warehouse-keeper  into 
the  hands  of  the  searcher,  who  directs  a  tide- 
waiter  to  receive  them  at  the  water-side  and  to 
attend  their  shipment,  taking  an  account  of  the 
articles  ;  and  he  remains  on  board  until  the  vessel 
reaches  Gravesend,  when  she  is  visited  by  a 
searcher  stationed  there;  the  tide-waiter  is  dis- 
charged, and  the  vessel  proceeds.  But  before  her 
final  clearance  the  master  delivers  to  the  searcher  a  , 
document  called  '  a  content,'  being  a  list  of  the 
goods  on  board,  and  which  is  compared  with  the 
cocket.  It  is  then  only  that  the  cargo  can  be  fairly 
said  to  be  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Custom  House 
officers.'' 

Tide-waiters  are  not  now  specially  appointed  to 
eadi  ship  on  arrival.  There  are  no  export  duties, 
now  and  no  a^i  valorem  duties.  Cockets  have  been 
abohshed. 

The  following  statement  from  the  "Statesman's 
Year  Book  "  is  valuable  as  a  comparison  : — 


Ports. 

1870. 

1871. 

Increase. 

Decrease. 

London  

Liverpool  ... 
Other  ports 
of  England 

Scotland 

Ireland  

10,017,682 
2,723,217 
3,131,902 

2,577,826 
1,919,072 

10,023,573 
'  2,875,584 

2,991,888 

2,502,127 
1,942,721 

5,891 
152,367 

23,649 

140,014 
75,699 

Total 

20,369,699 

20,335,893 

181,907 

215,713 
33,806 

Decrease 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  amount  of  Customs 
receipts  collected  in  London  in  each  of  the  years 
1870  and  187 1  was  more  than  that  of  all  the  other 
ports  of  Great  Britain  taken  together,  and  five  times 
that  of  the  whole  of  Ireland.  Besides  London  and 
Liverpool,  there  is  only  one  port,  in  England, 
Bristol,  the  Customs  receipts  of  which  average  a 
million  a  year,  and  one  more,  Hull,  where  they  are 
above  a. quarter  of  a  million.    It  ig  tq  be  observed 


Lower  Thames  Street.] 


THE  CUSTOM   HOUSE  SALES. 


59 


that  there  has  been  a  great  reduction  of  Customs 
duties  of  late  years.  During  the  sixteen  years  from 
1857  to  1872  the  actual  diminution  of  Customs 
has  been  no  less  than  ;£i4,25S,855. 

The  annual  summary  as  to  trade  in  the  port  of 
London  for  the  year  1872  shows  a  steady  increase 
in  the  number  of  vessels  arriving,  and  a  trifling  de- 
crease in  the  departures.  A  total  of  11,518  vessels 
arrived  during  the  year,  7,054  of  which  were  sailing 
and  4,464  steam-ships,  thus  indicating  a  total  in- 
crease of  113  as  compared  with  the  previous  year. 
The  vessels  which  cleared  outwards  were  8,730, 
both  kinds,  6,041  of  which  were  with  cargo,  and 
2,689  in  ballast,  or  a  total  decrease  of  339  as  com- 
pared with  the  departures  in  187 1.  A  considerable 
increase  arose  in  London  in  the  total  number  of 
seizures  of  tobacco,  cigars,  and  spirits,  as  compared 
with  the  year  187 1,  293  cases  having  occurred 
in  1872.  The  total  quantity  of  tobacco  and  cigars 
seized  in  London  was  2,369  lbs.,  being  an  increase 
of  947  lbs.  as  compared  with  that  seized  in  1871, 
while  the  total  quantity  of  spirits  seized  was  63 
gallons  only,  being  a  decrease  of  66  gallons. 

The  Custom  House  Quay  fronts  the  Thames. 
Here  Cowper,  the  poet,  came,,  intending  to  make 
away  with  himself.  "Not  knowing,"  he  says, 
"  where  to  poison  myself,  I  resolved  upon  drowning. 
For  that  purpose  I  took  a  coach,  and  ordered  the 
man  to  drive  to  Tower  Wharf,  intending  to  throw 
myself  into  the  river  from  the  Custom  House  Quay. 
I  left  the  coach  upon  the  Tower  Wharf,  intending 
never  to  return  to  it ;  but  upon  coming  to  the  quay 
I  found  the  water  low,  and  a  porter  seated  upon 
some  goods  there,  as  if  on  purpose  to  prevent  me. 
This  passage  to  the  bottomless  pit  being  mercifully 
shut  against  me,  I  returned  back  to  the  coach." 

A  modern  essayist  has  drawn  a  living  picture  of 
■  the  Custom  House  sales  : — "  The  Queen's  Ware- 
house is  situated  on  the  ground-floor  of  the  Custom 
House.  The  Queen's  Warehouse  is  not  an  im- 
posing apartment,  either  in  its  decorations  or  extent ; 
it  is  simply  a  large,  square  rooiti,  lighted  by  an 
average  number  of  windows,  and  consisting  of  four 
bare  walls,  upon  which  there  is  not  the  most 
distant  approach  to  decoration.  Counters  are  placed 
in  different  directions,  with  no  regard  to  order  of 
effect.  Here  and  there  masses  of  drapery  for  sale 
are  hung  suspended  from  cords,  or  to  all  appear- 
ance nailed  against  the  wall.  Across  one  comer 
of  the  room,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  a  very 
handsome  inlaid  cabinet,  two  rows  of  dilapidated 
Batlj  chaps  are  slung  upon  a  rope.  Close  under 
these  delicacies  stands  a  rosewood  piano,  on  which 
a  foreign  lady,  supported  by  a  foreign  gentlemMi,  is 
playing  a  showy  fantasia.     .    .     . 


"  Eighty-nine  opera-glasses  ;  three  dozen  'com- 
panions ' — more  numerous  than  select,  perhaps ; 
forty  dozen  black  brooches — ornamental  mourn- 
ing, sent  over  probably  by  some  foreign  manufac- 
turer, relying  in  the  helplessness  of  our  Woods-and- 
Forest-ridden  Board  of  Health,  and  in  the  death- 
dealing  fogs  and  stinks  of  our  metropolis ;  seventeen 
dozen  daguerreotype  plates,  to  receive  as  many 
pretty  and  happy  feces ;  eighty  dozen  brooches ; 
nineteen  dozen  pairs  of  ear-rings ;  forty-two  dozen 
finger-rings ;  twenty-one  dozen  pairs  of  bracelets. 
The  quantities  and  varieties  are  bewildering,  and 
the  ladies  cluster  about  in  a  state  of  breathless 
excitement,  or  give  way  to  regrets  that  the  authori- 
ties will  not  sell  less  than  ten  dozen  tiaras,  or  half- 
a-dozen  clocks.  The  French  popular  notion,  that 
every  Englishman  has  an  exhaustless  store  of  riches, 
seems  to  hold  as  firmly  as  ever ;  for  here  we  find 
about  three  hundred  dozen  portemonnaies,  and 
countless  purses,  evidently  of  French  manufacture. 
Presently  we  are  shown  what  Mr.  Carlyle  would 
call  '  a  gigantic  system  of  shams,'  in  five  hundred 
and  thirty-eight  gross  of  imitation  turquoises.     .     . 

"  On  the  particular  occasion  to  which  we  have 
been  all  along  referring  three  hundred  gross  of 
lucifer-matches  figured  in  the  bazaar,  besides  several 
acres  of  East  India  matting,  forty-nine  gallons  of 
Chutney  sauce;  eighteen  gallons  of  curry-paste; 
thirty  millions  of  splints;  seventy-seven  hundred- 
weight of  slate-pencils,  sixty-eight  gallons  of  rose- 
water,  one  package  of  visiting  cards,  one  ship's 
long-boat,  and  '  four  pounds' oi  hooks  vn.  the  English 
language." 

One  of  Mr.  Dickens's  staff  has  bitterly  described 
the  delay  in  passing  baggage  through  the'  Custom 
House.  "  A  fine  view  of  the  river,"  he  says,  "  seen 
through  one  of  the  open  windows,  was  being 
calmly  enjoyed  by  a  portly  person,  evidently  of 
considerable  official  pretensions.  A  clerk,  ™ting 
the  reverse  of  a  running  hand,  sat  at  a  desk; 
another  (who  seemed,  by  the  jaunty  style  in  which 
he  wore  his  hat,  to  be  a  dropper-in  from  some  other 
department  of  the  Customs)  leaned  lazily  against 
the  desk,  enjoying  the  proceedings  of  the  baffled, 
heated  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  had  escaped  from 
the  crowd,  and  who  were  anxiously  threading  the 
confused  maze  of  passengers'  effects  strewed  on  the 
floor,  to  find  their  own.  The  scene  was  made  com- 
plete by  two  or  three  porters,  whose  deliberate 
mode  of  opening  carpet-bags,  boxes,  and  trunks, 
showed  that  it  was  not  their  fate  to  be  hurried,  in 
their  passage  through  this  life." 

All  these  inconvaiiences  h'ave  now  been  re- 
moved, and  much  civility  and  promptitude  is  shown 
by  the  Custom  House  officials. 


6o 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Tower. 


ROMAN    REMAINS   FOUND   IN    BILLINGSGATE    (see  page   50). 


CHAPTER      VI. 


THE   TOWER. 


Caesar's  Tower— Bishop  Gundulfus —Henry  III.'s  Buildings— The  White  Tower— Free  Access  to  the  Tower  claimed  by  London  Citizens— 
Flambard's  Escape— Prince  Griffin — Thomas  de  Beauchamp — Charles  of  Orleans— Lord  Cobham — Wyatt  and  his  Cat — Murder  of  the  Young 
Princes — The  Earl  of  Surrey — Pilgrims  of  Grace — Lady  Jane  Grey — Sir  Thomas  Wyat — The  "White  Rose  ofYork." 


The  Tower  has  been  the  background  of  all  the 
darkest  scenes  of  English  history.  Its  claims  to 
Roman  descent  we  have  before  noticed.  There 
can  be  little  doubt  that  the  Roman  wall  that  ran 
along  Thames  Street  terminated  in  this  fort,  within 
which  bars  of  silver  stamped  with  the  name  of 
Honorius  have  been  discovered.  Our  Saxon 
chapter  showed  that  Alfred  unquestionably  built  a 
river-side  stronghold  on  the  same  site.  Alfred  has 
been  long  forgotten  within  the  Tower  walls,  but  the 
name  of  Caesar's  Tower  Shakespeare  has,  by  a  few 
words,  kept  alive  for  ever.  This  castle — for  cen- 
turies a  palace,  for  centuries  a  prison,  and  now  a 
barrack,  a  show-place,  a  mere  fossil  of  the  sterner 
ages — ^was  commenced,  in  its  present  form,  by 
Gundulf,  the  Bishop  of  Rochester,  for  that  stem 
represser  of  Saxon  discontent,  William  the  Con- 
queror. This  Benedictine  friar,  who  had,  visited 
the  East,  built  the  White  Tower,  the  first  St.  Peter's 


Church,  and  the  Hall  (or  Jewel)  Tower.  He  lived 
to  the  age  of  eighty,  and  saw  the  Tower  completed. 

The  next  great  builder  at  the  Tower  was  Henry 
III.,  who  erected  Corfe,  Conway,  and  Beaumaris 
Castles.  He  added  to  the  tall  square  White  Tower 
the  Water  Gate,  the  great  wharf,  the  Cradle  Tower, 
the  Lantern  (where  his  bedroom  and  private  closet 
were),  the  Galleyman  Tower,  and  the  first  wall  of 
the  enceinte.  He  adorned  the  St.  John's  Chapel, 
in  the  White  Tower,  with  frescoes,  and  gave  bells 
to  St.  Peter's  Church  on  Tower  Green.  In  the 
Hall  Tower,  from  which  a  passage  led  through  the 
Great  Hall  into  the  Lantern,  he  built  that  small 
private  chapel  before  whose  cross,  says  Mr.  Dixon, 
Henry  VI.  was  afterwards  stabbed. 

The  embankment  and  wharf  which  the  Water 
Gate  commanded  was  Henry's  greatest  work.  The 
land  recovered  from  the  river,  and  much  exposed 
to  the  sweep  of  the  tide,  was  protected  by  piles, 


The  Tower.] 


FALL   OF  THE  WATER   GATE. 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  ORLEANS  IN  THE  TOWER.     (From  an  Illumination  in  the  Royal  MS.) 


enclosed  by  a  front  of  stone.     The  London  citi- 
zens rejoiced  when,  in  1240,  the  Water  Gate  and 
wall  both  fell,  under  the  action  of  high  spring-tides. 
54_Voi,.  II. 


The  next  year  the  Barbican  fell  again,  and  people 
said  that  the  spirit  of  St.  Thomas  k  Becket  had 
appeared;    and,  indignant   at   the   infringement,  cf 


62 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Tower. 


public  rights,  had  struck  down  the  walls  with  a 
blow  of  his  crucifix.  After  wasting  more  than 
12,000  marks,  the  king  at  last  secured  a  firm 
foundation,  and  reared  the  Water  Gate  as  it  now 
stands.  The  saints  obnoxious  to  the  walls  raised 
againpt  |l,pndpn  citizens  were  prppitiatecl  by  £j,ji 
oratory  called  the  Confessor's  CjiaP?^>  ^^^  martyr 
giving  his  name  to  the  gate  itself. 

The  wliole  wharf,  1,200  feet  long,  lay  open  to 
the  f  hames,  e^ccept  a  patch  of  ground  at  the  lower 
end,  near  the  Iron  Gate,  which  led  to  the  Hos- 
pital of  St.  Catherine  the  Virgin,  where  sheds  and 
magazines  were  built  (now  the  docks).  To  the 
river-front  there  were  thrgg  stairs.  The  Queen's 
Stajrs,  where  royalty  lipdecj,  lay  beneath  t]^^  Bye- 
wa.Td^  Gate  ^nd  the  lSs}f?7>  ^^^^^  ^  passage  by  briflge 
and  postern  through  the  Byeward  Tower  into  Water 
Lane.  The  Water-way  passed  under  St  Thomas's 
Tower  to  the  flight  of  steps  in  Water  Lane,  and 
was  generally  known  as  Traitor's  Gate,  the  entrance 
for  prisoners.  The  Galleyman  Stairs  (seldom  use4) 
lay  under  the  Cradle  Tfiwsr,  by  which  there  was  3, 
private  entrance  to  the  royal  quarters. 

Under  the  Plantagenet  lyings,  says  Mr.  Dixon, 
the  Tower  warden  claimed  a  rig^^t,  veiy  obnoxious 
to  the  J.pjidon  cjtizpjis.  Pf  putting  Mlcjdc}les"  or 
wpirs  filled  with  nets  m  front  of  the  Tower  Wharf, 
and,  indeed,  in  ^py  pafl  of  the  Thames.  For 
sums  of  money ^j^y  oqe  could;  buy  licences  of  the 
Tower  wardens  tg  set  kiddles  in  the  Thames, 
Lea,  and  Mge^w^y  with  nets  tji^  Stpppe,^  ?ven  the 
smallest  fish-  Ceaseless  were  the  complaints  of 
this  intolerable  injustice,  till  Richay4  L  surrendered 
the  Tdwer  rights  on  religious  grounds,  fpf  thi^  salva- 
tion of  hi?  soul  and  those  of  h|s  ruthlesg  ^nq^gtprs ; 
but  the  warden  soon  reasserted  his  privileges. 

By  Magna  Charta  all  kiddles  were  to  be!remove4 
from  the  Th^rnes.  The  WaT<l?R  §ftl}  <Jisregardirig 
these  claims  of  the  citizens,  the  Sheriff  of  London, 
on  one  occasion,  made  a  raid,  and  by  force  of  arms 
destroyed  ^1  the  obnojcjoiis  nets.  In  the  reign  pf 
Henry  III.  tliis  quarrel  a.g§umed  a  -niore  seripus 
aspect.  Enraged' at  t^^e' kiddle^  placed  in  th§ 
Med\vay,  Jprdai^  ^e  Coventry '^rid  a'tpdypf^rmed 
men  proceede4  >  Yftntlet  Cregki  near  |,pchester, 

carried  pf  thirty  ti(|4|p£i,  an4  m^4e  prisoners  pf 

five  men  of  Rochester,  Sev?ft  men  of  Strood,  and 
three  men  of  plif,  with  nine  other  malefactors, 
and  threw  >hemintp  IJ^vygatg.  '  The  Rpehester, 
men  resolved  to  bring  tke'casg  before  the  feipg, 
and  it  was  tried  at  his  palaeg  at  Kenningtpn, 
The  justiciar  who  attended  for  the  Crown  was  a 
collateral  ancestor  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  The 
mayor's  defence  for  putting  the  Kentish  men  into 
gaol  was  that  they  were  infringing  the  rights  of  the 


City,  lessening  the  dignity  of  the  Crown,  and,  ac- 
cording to  an  express  clause  of  Magna  Charta, 
incurring  the  ban  of  excommunication.  The  judges 
agreed  with  the  mayor,  and  the  prisoners  were 
each  fined  ;^io,  and  the  captured  nets  were  burnt 
with  rejoicings  in  Westcheape. 

The  White  Tower,  says  the  latest  chronicler,  is 
ninety  feet  high,  and  from  twelve  to  fifteen  feet  thick. 
It  is  built  in  four  tiers — the  vaults,  the  main  iloor, 
the  banqueting-floor,  and  the  state  floor.  Each  tier 
contains  three  rooms,  not  counting  the  stairs,  corri- 
dprs,  an4  small  chambers  sunk  in  the  solid  wall.  In 
each  storey  there  is  a  large  west  room  running  north 
and  south  the  whole  length  of  the  tower,  an  east 
rpom  lying  parallel  to  the  first,  and  a  cross  chamber 
at  the  sPlith-west  cprner.  The  rooms  are  parted 
by  walls  never  less  than  ten  feet  thick.  On  each 
angle  of  the  tower  is  a  turret,  one  of  which  is  round. 
The  vauhs  haye  no  stairs  or  doprs  pf  their  own. 
Loopholes  in  the  wall  let  in  the  4amp  river  air, 
but  Utde  light.  T^^e  cross-chamber  yault,  or  Little 
Pase,  is  darlcer  an4  damper  than  its  two  bre|;hren. 
There  is  sonie  ground  for  behef,  says  Mr.  Dixon, 
that  Little  |}ase  was  the  lodging  of  Guy  Fawkes. 
On  the  Wf|.ll^  of  the  vaults  are  many  inscriptions ; 
amongst  them  is  pne  of  |'isher,  a  Jesuit  priest  mixed 
up  in  thg  Powder  Plot  '  It  runs-^ 

"  Sacris  vestibus  indutus, 
Dum  sacra  mysteria 
Servans,  captus  et  in 
Hoc  angustQ  ca<:cere 
Inclusus.^.  f  ISHER." 

That  is,  "  While  clad  in  t|ie  sacre4  vesfmf nfs,  4ncl 
administering  the  sacre^  mysteries,  taken,'  and  in 
j:his  narrow  dungeon  impiired." 

Out  of  the  north-east  yauU  a  door  opens  into  a 
??Pf  g|  hRlS  l^wil):  i?l  the  dividing  wall.  This  place 
h^S  neither  air  nor  |i^ht,  and  ig  known  as  Walter 
Raleigh's  cgJJ,     ^hsurd  legen4  ! 

The  main  Ippr  consists  of  two  large  rooms  and 
the  crypt  One  of  the  ^poms  was  a  guard-room. 
The  crypt,  a  lofty  room,  was  ysgd  as  a  prison  for 
three  of  the  Kentish  men  tak^n  wifh  Sir  Thomas 
Wyat,  In  Mary's  reign.  I'l^grp  are'twq' njcheg  in 
the  sph4  ^all,  p4  the  largeist  of  ii^ese  Is^i^P  calle4 
li^leigh's  cell,  tiiPUgh  he  ^^^  never  qonfineci  there^ 
Mr.  PiJvpn  suggests  that  it  m^jf  haye  |:(pp  "the 
secret  jeyyel-rooni  in  thg  White  Tower,"  pffen  men- 
tioned in  Ql4  records.  The  long  rqpjij  pu  |he  jjan- 
quetmg-flppr  was  a  l^anqueting-hall,  an4  is  the  pnly 
rpqm  m  the  Ifeep  lyhich  l^pasfs  a  fireplace.  The 
cross-chamber,  the  chapel  of  St  John  the  Evangelist, 
occupied  two  tiers  of  the  Keep.  Or  this  tier 
Bishop  Flambard,  Priuce  Griffin,  Jphn  Baliol,  and 
Prince  Charles  4'Orleans  were  co.nSned, 


The  Tower.] 


COURTS  OF  LAW  IN  THE  TOWER. 


63 


On  the  state-room  floor  was  the  great  council- 
chamber,  a  lesser  hall  where  the  justiciaries  sat, 
and  the  galleries  of  St.  John's  Chapel,  from  which 
there  was  a  passage  into  the  royal  apartments. 
The  roof  is  flat,  and  strong  enough  to  bear  the 
carronades  of  later  times.  The  largest  of  the  four 
turrets,  built  for  a  watch-tower,  was  the  prison  of 
poor  Maud  Fitzwalter,  King  John's  victim,  and  was 
afterwards  used  as  an  observatory  by  Flamstead, 
Newton's  contemporary. 

The  Keep,  though  a  palace,  was  also  a  fortress, 
and  security,  rather  than  comfort,  was  what  its 
builder  had  in  view.  It  had  originally  only  one 
narrow  door,  that  a  single  man  could  defend.  One 
well-stair  alone  connected  the  vaults  with  the  upper 
floors.  The  main  floor  had  no  way  up  or  down, 
except  by  the  same  staircase,  which  could  only 
be  approached  through  a  passage  built  in  the  wall. 
The  upper  tiers  had  other  stairs  for  free  communi- 
cation with  the  councU-chamber  and  the  parapets. 
Thus  we  still  have  existing  in  the  White  Tower  the 
clearest  and  most  indelible  proofs,  better  than  any 
historian  can  give,  of  the  dangers  that  surrounded 
the  Conqueror,  and  the  little  real  trust  he  had  in 
the  fidelity  of  those  surrounding  him. 

The  second  church  of  St.  Peter  was  built  by 
Edward  I.  The  bills  for  clearing  the  ground  are 
still  preserved  in  the  Record  Office  in  Fetter  Lane. 
The  cost  of  pulling  down  the  old  chapel  was  forty- 
six  shillings  and  eight  pence. 

The  Tower,  says  Mr.  W.  Dixon,  was  divided 
into  two  parts,  the  ;nner  and  the  outer  ward.  The 
inner  ward,  or  royal  quarter,  was  bounded  by  a 
wall  crowned  by  twelve  towers.  The  points  of 
defence  were  the  Beauchamp  Tower,  the  Belfry, 
the  Garden  Tower  (now  called  the  Bloody  Tower), 
the  Hall  Tower,  the  Lantern,  the  Salt  Tower,  the 
Broad  Arrow  Tower,  the  Constable  Tower,  the 
Martin  Tower,  the  Brick  Tower,  the  Flint  Tower, 
the  Bowyer  Tower,  and  the  Devilin  Tower.  The 
inner  ward  contained  the  Keep,  the  Royal  Galleries 
and  Rooms,  the  Mint,  the  Jewel-house,  the  Ward- 
robe, the  Queen's  Garden,  St.  Peter's  Church,  the 
open  Green,  and  in  later  days  the  Lieutenant's 
house.  In  the  Brick  Tower  the  master  of  the 
ordnance  resided;  in  the  Lantern  turret  lights 
were  kept  burning  at  night  as  river  signals. 

The  outer  ward  contained  some  lanes  and  streets 
below  the  wall  and  works  which  overlooked  the 
wharf.  In  this  ward  stood  the  Middle  Tower,  the 
Byeward  Tower,  the  Water  Gate,  the  Cradle  Tower, 
the  Well  Tower,  the  Galleyman  Tower,  the  Iron- 
gate  Tower,  Brass  Mount,  Legge  Mount,  and  the 
covered  ways.  Into  it  opened  the  Hall  Tower, 
afterwards  called  the  Record  Tower,  and  now  the 


Jewel-house.  Close  by  the  Hall  Tower  stood  the 
Great  Hall,  the  doors  of  which  opened  into  this 
outer  court.  Spanning  the  ditch  on  the  Thames 
side  was  the  Water  Gate,  or  St.  Thomas's  Tower, 
and  under  the  building  was  the  wide  arch  so  often, 
depicted  by  painters,  and  called  Traitor's  Gate. 

Into  the  outer  ward,  says  Mr.  Dixon,  the  Com- 
mons had  always  claimed  a  free  access.  On  stated 
occasions  the  right  of  public  entry  to  all  citizens 
was  insisted  on  with  much  ceremonial.  The  alder- 
men and  commoners  met  in  Barking  Church  on 
Tower  Hill,  and  chose  six  sage  persons  to  go  as  a 
deputation  to  the  Tower,  and  ask  leave  to  see  the 
king,  and  demand  free  access  for  all  people  to  the 
courts  of  law  held  within  the  Tower.  They  were 
also  to  beg  that  no  guard  would  close  the  gates  or 
keep  watch  over  them  while  the  citizens  were 
coming  or  going,  it  being  against  their  freedom  for 
any  but  their  own  guard  to  keep  watch  during  that 
period.  On  the  king  granting  their  request  the  six 
messengers  returned  to  Barking  Church,  reported 
progress,  and  sent  the  citizen  guard  to  keep  the 
ground.  The  Commons  then  elected  three  men 
of  standing  to  act  as  spokesmen  and  presenters. 
Great  care  was  taken  that  no  person  should  go 
into  the  royal  presence  who  had  sore  eyes  or  weak 
legs,  or  was  in  rags  or  shoeless.  Every  one  was  to 
have  his  hair  cut  close  and  his  face  newly  shaved. 
Mayor,  aldermen,  sheriff,  cryer,  beadles,  were  all  to 
be  clean  and  neat,  and  every  one  was  to  lay  aside 
his  cape  and  cloak,  and  put  on  his  coat  and  surcoat. 

The  exact  site  of  the  two  courts  of  justice  Mr. 
Dixon  has  clearly  made  out.  The  King's  Bench 
was  held  in  the  Lesser  Hall,  under  the  east  turret  of 
the  Keep.  The  Common  Pleas  were  held  in  the 
Great  Hall  by  the  river — a  hall  long  since  gone,  but 
which  stood  near  the  Hall  Tower,  to  which  it  gave 
a  name.  It  seems  to  have  been  .a  Gothic  edifice  in 
the  style  of  Henry  III.  After  Henry  VI.'s  death, 
Hall  Tower  was  turned  into  a  Record  Office. 

One  of  the  first  prisoners  ever  lodged  in  the 
Tower  that  Gundulf  built  for  William  the  Con- 
queror was  Ralph  Flambard,  Bishop  of  Durham, 
the  very  treasurer  and  justiciar  who  had  helped 
by  his  cruel  greediness  to  collect  the  very  money 
by  which  it  was  built.  On  the  death  of  William 
Rufus,  this  prelate  was  seized  by  the  Commons 
and  thrown  into  the  Tower,  with  the  consent  of 
Henry  I.  He  was  not  kept  very  close,  and  one 
night,  plying  the  Norman  soldiers  who  guarded  him 
with  wine,  Flambard,  who  had  had  ready  a  coil  of 
rope  sent  to  him  in  a  wine-jar,  let  himself  down 
from  a  window  sixty-five  feet  from  the  ground,  and 
escaped  safe  to  France. 

In  the  north-east  turret  of  the  White  Tower  King 


64 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Tower, 


John  imprisoped  Maud,  the  beautiful  daughter  of 
Robert  Fitzwalter,  Lord  of  Baynard's  Castle,  whose 
untimely  fate  we  have  noticed  in  a  former  chapter. 
In  the  banqueting  hall,  Edward  I.  lodged  John 
de  Baliol,  whqm  he  had  stripped  of  Jiis  crown  at 
the  battle  of  Dunbar.  It  was  from  this  canppaign 
that  Edward  returned  with  tlie  corqnatipn-stone  of 
Scotland,  on  which  our  own  monarchs  have  ever 
since  been  crowned.  Balio},  aecqrding  to  existing 
records,  seems  to  have  liye4  ^^  state  in  the  W^ite 
Towpr,  having  his  chaplain,  tailor,  pan  tier,  ^arb.er, 
clerk  of  the  chapej,  chambgrlajn,  esqiiires,  and 
laundress  in  attendance ;  an4  l?is  dogs  and  horses 
in  the  stables  waiting  Jiis  cornmands,  at  t|ip  cost  qf 
seventeen  shillings  a  day.  ^e  remaine4  a,  prisoner 
189  days,  after  wjiich  hg  -yyas.  given  up  tq  the  Papal 
nvmcio,  John  dg  iPoi^ti^^era,  on  cqrjdition  of  residing 
^.lyo^d.  Fifty  years  affgr  ^j^qther  regal  Scotchman, 
David,  ^qn  of  t^le  brave  B.q|)ert  Bruce,  w£j.s  ^ajcen 
prisoner  ai<d  brpiight  }iere  by  Quegn  I'jiilipp^,  at 
the  battle  of  Neville's  Cross,  while  Edwa,rd  was 
away  chastising  France. 

Every  new  p#)rt  to  TVi^^n.  England  brought 
fresh  prisqnpr^  tq  tjip  Tqwer,  §rid  pexj:  came  to 
Flambard's  ql4  roqip,  fipflfin,  Prinpe  of  Wales, 
■vvhom  his  tirqtl^er  David  had  surrendered  tp  the 
English  king.  Resqlute  to  escape,  he  tqre  up  his 
be4-clothe^,  knpttgd  \]\em  into  3,  rope,  and  dropped 
niripty  fept  firom  the  leads  pf  the  White  Tpwer. 
Being  a  heayy  map,  however,  the  rope  ^nlupkily 
snapped,  and  hp  was  kjllgd  jn  t]\P  faj}.  His  son 
remained  a  prisoner,  l^ut  wag  afterwards  Released, 
returned  to  Wales,  an4  fought  g.gainst  Edward  J. 
Slain  in  battle,  Ijis  head  was  brought  to  London, 
and  fixed  pn  the  pinet  of  his  old  prison. 

Edward  IL  an4  his  cruel  queen,  Isaljella,  kept 
court  in  the  Tower ;  an4  }iere  the  Prjnpe  Joanna 
de  la  Tour  was  .boni.  John  de  Cromwell,  fhe 
Cqnsta]Dlp,  was  4isniissed  from  qffipe  for  havjng 
let  the  royal  t)e4-charnber  bepqme  sq  ruinous  that 
the  rain  ppnetrated  thropgh  the  roof.  Here,  in 
Edward's  absence,  Isabella  fell  in  Ipve  with  Rqger 
Mortimer,  a  Welsh  chigf,  who  wag  then  in  prison 
in  the  Tqwer.  By  the  cqnnivance,  nq  4oubt,  pf 
the  gui|ty  wife,  ^prtimer  escape4  by  t}?e  kitchen 
chimney,  an4  dqvr^  fjie  river,  tq  Fr^ppe.  Hi?  death 
and  the  king's  tjatb^rous  niurder  at  Berkeley  Pastle 
were  the  result  pf  these  fatal  dayg  of  dalliance  in 
the  White  Tp-yi^er. 

The  Beauch^pip  Tqwer,  pn  the  west  >j'all  pf  fjie 
fortress,  derives  its  name  from  Thgmas  4?  Bgau- 
champ,  EarJ  of  Warwick,  son  of  thg  earl  whq  fougjit 
at  Crecy  and  Pqictiets.  He  >vas  appointed  by  the 
House  of  Commons  governor  to  thp  young  king, 
Richard   II.,  and  his  first  act,  in  cpmpany  with 


Gloucester,  Arundel,  and  other  great  barons,  was 
to  march  on  London,  and  seize  an4  put  to  death 
the  young  king's  mischievous  favourite,  Sir  Simon 
de  i^urley,    "vvfip^e   greediness   and    insplence  had 
rendered  him  hateful  to  the  nation.     This  apf  of 
stern  justice  ]^i chard  never  forgave;  and  directly 
he  came  of  age  the  earl  was  banished  tp  his  oVvn 
Warwick  Castle,--where  he  built  Guy's  Tower.     The 
Jcing  resolve4  on  obtaining  despotic  power.     The 
earl  was  invited  to  dine  with  the  king,  and  was 
seized  as  he  was  leaving  the  royal  table,  whgrp  he 
had  been  >yelcqme4  yi^itji  special  and  tfeacherovis 
hospitality,      f  })e  king's  \inclp,  the  gqqd  Dujie  pf 
GJqucester,  was  decoye4  from  his  castle  of  Plasley 
by  the  king  himself,  tljen  hurried  over  tP  Calais, 
and    sviffopate4    by    his  guards.     Lor4    Arundel, 
aiipther  obnq?ciqus  lord,  was  also  executed  by  this 
rqyal  n^ur4er^r.     i^eauchainp,  in  his  trial  before  the 
House  of  Ppers,  plea4ed  a  pardon  he  had  obtained 
under  the  G^eat  Seal  for  all  offences.     The  Chief 
Justice  declare4  tlie  par4qn  had  been  repealed  by 
the  king.    Ultimately  the  earl's  castles,  inanors,  apd 
estates  were  all  forfeited,  an4  he  was  sentenced  to 
tie  hung,  dra>yn,  and  quart^ye^.     The  king,  how- 
ever, afraid  to  put  to  4e^th   so  pppular  a  man, 
JDanisji^d  him  tq  the  Isle  of  Man,  ar^d'  then  recalled 
him  to  his  old  prison  in  jhe  Tower.     Two  years 
later,  011  the  apces^iqn  of  Henry  IV.,  the  earl  was 
released.     He  lyas  burjed  in  the  pave  of  St.  Mary's 
Church,  Warwick,  which  he  had  built. 

The  next  captive  in  tlip  banqueting-hall  pf  the 
White  Tower  was-  that  poet-warrior,  Charles  of 
Orleans,  grandsqii  of  Charles  "V.  of  |"rance,  and 
father  of  Louis  XIL,  ^  gay  knight,  wliqm  Shake- 
speare has  glanced  at  in  the  play  of  Jlenrj  V. 
He  had  been  a  rival  qf  Henry  (when  Prince  of 
Wales)  fqr  the  hapd  of  Isabella  qf  Valois,  the  widow 
of  Richar4  II.  §he  had  married  him,  and  die^  a 
year  after  in  chjldbirth.  The  young  prince  shqrtly 
after,  for  reasons  qf  stg,te,  was  induce4  tq  niarry  a 
secon4  wifpj  Bont),,  4aughter  pf  Bernard,  Count  pf 
Armagpac.  At  Agincourt  Charles  was  foun4  sorely 
woun4p4  ampng  the  dead,  and  carried  tp  Engla|id : 
he  wa§  place4  jn  the  White  Tpwer,  where  a  ransom 
pf  300,000  crowns  was  placed  upon  his  head;  for 
the  knights  pf  tfiose  4ays,  however  chivalrpus,  drove 
hard  bargains  >yith  thejr  prisoners.  Orleans  was 
twenty-fopr  years  old  then,  and  he  renaained  in  the 
Tower  five-and-twenty  years.  He  had  a  daughter 
by  Quepn  Isabella,  apd  it  was  to  Henry's  interest, 
as  he  ha4  piarri^d  a  French  pripcess,  ap4  claimed 
the  throne  pf  prancp,  tha|  Orieans  should  4ie  with- 
put  having  a  son.  pharie§  spent  fh?  long  years  of 
his  imprispnment  Iqqking  out  on  the  Thames  and 
the  hills  of  Surrey,  and  writing  adniirable  Frenpl^ 


The  Tower.] 


A  PRETTY   TOWER   TRADltlON. 


<^i 


and  English  vcrsfes,  which  still  exist.  After  Henry's 
death,  and  wheil  Joan  of  Aire  Had  recoveired  nearly 
the  wholS  ot  Ftance,  the  ransoiil  was  faked  together, 
and  tihairles  was  released.  lie  theii  itiarried  a  thiird 
wife,  Mary  of  Clevfes,  ahd  by  heir  had  tli^  sbh 
who  dfterwdrds  becailie  the  invadei:  of  Italy, 
Louis  Xit. 

The  ireign  tllat  saw  CJharles  bt  Orleani  eiiter  tHfe 
White  "towfeir  also  saiir  Sir  Jdhn  Dldcastie,  "  tHfe 
gbod  Loird  Cbbham,"  brought  to  the  SeaucJiaiiip 
Tower.  Thi§  Kentish  noblemah,  Mio  had  fought 
bravely  in  France  and  iii  Wales,  was  a  favotiret'  Of 
the  Lbllaird  reforhieirS,  ahd  a  despiser  of  the  nibnks. 
He  accepted  Wyclifte'^  doctrines,  denied  the  real 
presence,  read  the  Bible  openly,  and  sheltered 
Lollard  preachers,  "f  he  gireat  eheiny  of  this  bold 
man  Svas  TKbinds  Arundel,  Archbishop  of  Cirttef- 
bury,  wTio  had  introduced  from  Spain  the  savagfe 
custom  of  burning  contumacious  heretics^  Dis- 
obeying a  citdtittn  of  the  primate,  Loird  Cobhath 
was  seht  to  the  Tower.  Before  a  synod  OlddaStle 
boldly  asserted  the  new  doctrines,  and  was  seii- 
tenced  to  be  burnt  tc*  death.  "Ye  judge  the  body," 
said  the  old  Soldier  to  the  synod,  "which  is,  but  a 
wretched  thiiig,  yet  ain  I  certain  and  silire  that  ye 
can  do  iio  harni  tb  mf  Soul.  Me  who  created  tliat 
will  of  iiis  oWh  mercy  and  pf dinisfe  save  it.  As  to 
these  articles,  I  will  stand  td  theffl  eVeii  id  the 
f  ery  death,  tiy  the  gi-ace  Of  my  ^tefhal  God." 

in  the  fifeatifchamp  Tower,  \<rhen  the  mbnks 
spread  ireports  that  Cobham  had  ffecaiited,  he  isstled 
a  bold  denial  that  he  had  changed  his  view  of  ''the 
sacraments  of  the  altat,"  of  which  St.  feul  had  ^aid 
to  the  Corinthians,  "  The  bread  which  wS  btek  is 
it  not  the  communion  of  the  body  of  Christ  ?" 

"the  people  were  deeply  aigitated,  and  one  dfctb- 
ber  higiit,  four  weeks  after,  a  band  of  citizens  broke 
into  the  Beaucliamp  Toweir  (with  oir  without  the 
connivaiice  of  the  giiards),  ireleased  Cobham',  ahd 
carried  him  safely  to  his  own  house .  in  Smithfield. 
"there,  defying  ihe  pirimate  and  the  monks,  Cobham 
remained  for  three  inbhths.  The  Lollards  at  last, 
probably  urged  forward  by  the  primate's  spies, 
agreed  to  nieet,  100,000  stroiig,  in  St.  Giles's  Fields, 
and  choose  Lord  Cobham  as  their  general.  I'he 
king,  enraged  at  this,  collected  his  barons,  closed 
the  City  gates,  piit  a  white  crusader's  cross  on  his 
royal  banner,  rode  with  his  spears  into  St.  Giles's 
Fields,  and  dispersed  the  Lollatd  party,  who  were 
waiting  for  the  good  lord.  For  four  yeirs  Cobhath 
wandered  through  'VVales  and;  England,  ivith  1,000 
marks  set  on  his  head.  Fisher,  a  skinner,  the 
leader  of  the  band  that  released  Oldcastle  from  the 
Tower,  was  tried  at  Newgate,  and  afterwards  hung 
at  Tyburn,  and  his  head  stuck  on  London  Bridge. 


Eventually,  ifter  d,  hard  fight,  Oldcastle  was  betrayed 
in  Wales  by  a  Welsh  adherent  nahied  Pbwis.  He 
tvas  biroiight  to  London,  arid  withoilt  further  trial, 
he  wds  fctii-nt  iii  front  of  his  OwH  hbuSe,  in  Srhith- 
held,  the  first  inah  there  biirnt  for  the  triife  faith. 

In  the  old  monastic  plays  this  briye  arid  con- 
sistent than  was  always  tepresehted  as  a  coward 
arid  biifibori,  Shakespeaire  himself,  following  the 
corivenlion;  rianled  his  Falstaif  at  fiirSt  Oldcastle  j 
then,  probably  having  his  attention  drawn  by  solrie 
tetter-read  friend  to  the  iirijiistice  done  to  the 
riieriaory  of  a  ^bod  man  arid  triie  Protestant,  he 
dhariged  it  to  Falstaff,  unfoirtiinately,  another  brave 
soldier  of  Cobhani's  period,  whorri  tradition  had 
unjustly  slandered.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  a 
"  Boar's  Etead "  in  the  Borough,  not  that  in  East- 
cheap,  had  belonged  to  the  great  Fdlstatf  of  the 
French  wars.  The  irian  who  wrote  in  the  epilogue 
to  the  Second  Part  of  Ring  Henry  tlie  Fourth, 
the  words  "Oldcastle  died  a  riiartyr,"  says  Mr. 
Hepworth  Oixon,  "  Was  a  Puritan  in  faith."  This 
dictiiiri  we  hold,  nevertheless,  io  be  extremely 
doubtful,  as  nearly  all  the  religious  passages  in 
Shakespeaire's  plays  point  to  a  great  revererice  for 
Roman  Catholic  traditions  j  and  surely  an  honest 
writer  can  free  a  good  man  froni  slaridef  without 
riecesSariiy  beUfe'ving  iri  his  doctrines.  MOireover, 
Lord  Cobham  -tvas  a  Protestant,  but  by  no  riieans  a 
Puritan,  and  probably  as  far  apart  in  behef  from 
the  lateir  riiartyrs  of  Smithfield  is  the  Lollards  were 
frdiri  John  Wesley.  , 

Thfere  is  a  pretty  tradition  connected  with  the 
Tower  iri  the  time  of  the  Wars  of  the  Roses.  Sir 
Henry  Wyatt,  of  Allihgtdri  Castle,  in  Kent,  father 
of  the  poet,  and  grandfather  of  the  unfortunate 
rebel,  was  iiriprisoned  iri  the  To\^et  for  being  a 
resolute  Lahcastriari.  He  was  thrown  into  a  cold 
and  narrow  tower,  where  he  hid  neither  bed  tb  he 
on,  sufficient  clothes  to  warni  hib^  di  enough  food 
to  feat.  One  da^  a  cat  came  into  his  dungeon,  arid 
he  laid  heir  in  his  bosorfi  to  warrii  hirii,  "and  by 
making  much  of  her  won  hef  love."  After  this  the 
cat  would  conie'  Several  times  a  day,  arid  sometimes 
bring  him  a  pigeOti.  The  gaoler  dressed  these 
pigeons,  withoiit  iriqiiiiririg  where  they  came  frOrir. 
Sir  tienry  Wyatt  after  this  retained  ari  affection  for 
cats,  and  waS  always  painted  with  one  by  his  side. 
One  day,  when  Wyatt  wdk'  being  tortured  with  the 
barnacles,  Richatd  itl.,  who  ivas  present,  exclaimed 
with  fegret,  "Wyatt,  why  drt  thovi  such  a  fool? 
Thori  seirvest  for  moorishirie  in  watet.  Thy  master," 
riieanirig  Meriry  Of  Richmond,  "  is  a  beggarly  fugi- 
tive :  forsake  hiin  and  become  inine.  Cannot  I 
reward  thee  ?  "  to  which  Wyatt  replied,  "  If  I  had 
\  first  chosen  you  for  my  ihaster,  thus  faithful  would 


66 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tThe  Towef. 


I  have  been  to  you  if  you  should  have  needed  it 
But  the  earl,  poor  and  unhappy  though  he  be,  is 
my  master ;  and  no  discouragement,  no  allurement, 
shall  ever  drive  me  from  him,  by  God's  grace." 

And  now  came,  in  due  sequence,  Gloucester's 
murder  of  the  two  princes,  his  nephews,  usually  said 
to  have  been  in  the  Bloody  Tower,  but  the  locality 
of  the  crime  is  still  uncertain.  Bayley,  the  fullest 
and  best  historian  of  the  Tower,  thinks  it  highly 
unlikely  that  Gloucester  would  have  sent  the  two 
young  princes  to  such  a  mere  porter's  lodge  as  the 
Bloody  Tower — a  tower,  moreover,  which,  in  an 
official  survey  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  is  called 
the  Garden  Tower,  showing  that  the  popular  name 
is  of  later  date.  When  sent  to  what  was  to  be  their 
tomb,  Edward  V.  was  twelve,  and  Richard,  Duke 
of  York,  was  eight.  They  stood  between  the 
Crookback  and  the  crown,  but  not  for  long.  Their 
mother  was  in  sanctuary  at  Westminster.  The 
Protector  had  already  thrown  out  rumours  that  the 
children  were  illegitimate,  and  a  bishop  had  been 
base  enough,  it  is  said,  to  have  sworn  to  a  previous 
secret  marriage  of  the  licentious  Edward.  Lord 
Hastings,  under  an  accusation  of  witchcraft,  had 
just  been  dragged  from  the  council-chamber,  and 
beheaded  on  a  block  of  timber  on  Tower  Green. 
Murder  followed  murder  fast,  and  the  word  soon 
went  forth  for  the  children's  death.  Brackenbury, 
the  Governor  of  the  Tower,  receiving  the  order, 
when  on  his  knees  in  St.  John's  Chapel,  refused 
to  obey  or  to  understand  it.  ^  Gloucester,  told  of 
this  at  midnight  in  Warwick  Castle,  instantly  rose 
from  his  bed,  and  sent  Sir  James  Tyrrell,  his  Master 
of  Horse,  to  London,  with  power  to  use  the  keys 
and  pass-words  of  the  Tower  for  one  night.  Two 
dogged  ruffians,  John  Dighton  and  Miles  Forrest, 
rode  at  Tyrrell's  heels.  It  is  said  that  one  boy 
had  his  throat  cut,  and  the  other  was  smothered 
with  a  pillow.  Tyrrell  stood  near  the  gate  while 
the  deed  was  doing,  and  saw  the  bodies  of  the  poor 
children  when  all  was  over,  then  rode  back  to  York 
to  tell  Richard.  The  two  murderers,  helped  by 
an  obsequious  Tower  priest,  carried  down  the 
bodies,  dug  a  hole  near  the  gateway  wall,  and  threw 
them  in.  They  were  afterwards  re-interred,  in  a  fit 
of  superstition,  by  Richard,  behind  a  staircase  in  the 
Keep.  In  Charles  II.'s  tjme  the  bones  were  found 
under  the  steps,  and  removed  to  a  royal  tomb  in 
Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  Westminster  Abbey.  The 
last-named  king  had  tried  hard  to  find  the  bodies, 
and  prove  that  Perkin  Warbeck  was  not  the  son  of 
Edward  IV.;  but  the  priest  who  had  removed  them 
was  dead,  and  the  search  was  unsuccessful.  Sir 
Thomas  More  and  Lord  Bacon  both  agree  that  the 
children  were  murdered  by  Richard's  command. 


The  pride  and  cruelty  of  Henry  VIII.,  his  theo- 
logic  doubts,  and  his  Bluebeard  habit  of  getting  rid 
of  his  wives,  sent  many  victims  to  the  Tower.  One 
of  the  most  venerable  of  these  was  John  Fisher, 
Bishop  of  Rochester,  a  determined  opponent  of  the 
king's  marriage  with  a  Protestant  beauty.  He  was 
imprisoned  in  the  Belfry  Tower,  on  the  ground 
floor  of  which  lived  the  Lieutenant.  Fisher  had 
professed  belief  in  an  hysterical  Kentish  girl,  subject 
to  fits,  whom  the  monks  had  persuaded  to  utter 
rhyming  prophecies  against  the  divorce  of  Queeii 
Catherine.  The  poor  maid  of  Kent,  urged  forward 
by  the  priests,  at  last  went  too  far,  declaring  that, 
if  Henry  put  away  his  Spanish  wife,  he  would  die 
in  seven  months,  and  his  daughter  Mary  would 
ascend  the  throne.  Such  prophecies,  when  spread 
among  fanatics,  are  apt  to  produce  their  own  fulfil- 
ment. Henry  gave  the  signal,  and  in  a  very  short 
time  the  monks  who  instigated  the  nun,  and  the 
nun  herself,  were  in  a  cart  bound  for  Tyburn. 
Fisher  himself  was  soon  arrested,  and  browbeaten 
by  Cromwell,  who  told  him  he  believed  the  pro- 
phecies true  because  he  wished  them  to  be  true. 
Fisher  was  eighty  years  old,  and  mijght  have  been 
spared,  had  not  Paul  III.  at  that  very  time,  unfor- 
tunately, and  against  the'  king's  express  command, 
sent  him  a  cardinal's  hat.  "  'Fore  God,"  said  Henry, 
with  brutal  humour,  "  if  he  wear  it,  he  shall  wear 
it  on  his  shoulders."  The  death-warrant  was  at 
once  signed.  They  brought  the  old  man  the  news 
that  he  seemed  to  have  expected,  at  five' a.m.  He 
slept  till  seven,  then  rose  and  donned  his  bravest 
suit,  for  what  he  called  his  marriage-day.  He 
passed  to  the  scaffold  with  the  New  Testament  in 
his  feeble  hands.  When  he  opened  the  book,  he 
read  the  passage,  "This  is  life  eternal,  to  know 
Thee,  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ,  whom 
Thou  hast  sent."  A  few  hours  after  the  old  grey 
head  fell  on  Tower  Hill  it  was  spiked  upon  London 
Bridge.  The  room  over  Coldharbour  Gateway, 
says  Mr.  Dixon,  where  the  Maid  of  Kent  was  im- 
prisoned, was  long  known  as  the  Nun's  Bower. 

The  poet  Earl  of  Surrey  was  another  of  Henry's 
victims,  and  he  passed  from  the  Tower  to  die  on 
the  block  for  blazoning  the  Confessor's  arms  upon 
his  shield.  His  father,  too,  the  third  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  had  a  narrow  escape  from  the  same  block, 
though  he  was  a  near  relation  of  Henry,  and  the 
uncle  of  two  queens.  He  was  charged  £,2z  i8s.  8d. 
a  month,  and  yet  complained  of  having  no  exercise 
and  wanting  sheets  enough  for  his  bed.  Luckily 
for  him,  Henry  expired  the  very  night  the  warrant 
for  his  execution  was  signed,  and  he  escaped. 

The  Beauchamp  Tower  bears  on  its  walls  records 
of  earlier  prisoners  than  the  duke— abettors  of  that 


The  Towet.] 


DARK  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  TOWER. 


67 


68 


OLD  AND   NEW   LONDON. 


(The  Towei-. 


very  Pilgrimage  of  Grace  which  he  had  helped  to 
put  down.  Tliis  last  great  struggle  of  English 
Pojjeiry  against  the  Reformation  brought  mahjr  of 
the  did  North  country  families  to  this  place  of 
duirincte. 

The  fbjral  decree  for  piitfang  down  inonastic 
hdtiSfes  liad,  in  1536,  set  all  Yorkshire  in  a  ferrnent. 
A  VElst  irabble  liad  arnifed  and  threatened  to  march 
ojl  Ldfadbti;  tang  Cromwell,  weed  the  Court  of 
eyii  fcdilhfcilidi:s,  restbire  Queen  Catherine,  and 
rgWVS  ihe  religibus  hoiises.  The  pilgrims  fastened 
oli  tlleii:  breasts  scrolls  displdying  the  fivfe  wbiihds 
ot^  Chti^t.  Near  ApplSfey  a  bdiid  of  these  feflatics 
sfdjip^ii  a  lawyer  liaiilSd  Aske,  who  was  returning 
to  London  frbiii  a  Ybirkshire  .hunting  party,  and 
ciiBSe  hirii  as  their  ggiiferal.  Aske  determined  to 
mdke  lienry  Percy,  sixth  Earl  bf  Northumberland, 
the  cdriitnartaer-in-cliief  Pefby,  whd  nad  Iseen  a 
lover  of  Anne  Boleyn,  was  the  Warden  of  the 
East  and  Middle  Marches.  The  earl  was  afraid 
to  jditt  them;  biit  the  pilgrims  demaiided't'H6  earl's 
brdthers,  Thornas  and  Ingrani,  in  spite  of  the  tears 
and  rfeiiionstrances  df  their  rribther.  York  dt  bnce 
surfeiidered  to  the  30,000  pilgrims.  At  Poinfret 
Castle  they  enrolled  Loird  Darby  amorig  theii:  band. 
At  Dohcaster  Bridgb,  howevetj  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
met  the  Md  rdiilj  and  by  proffered  pardon  ind 
promises  df  the  changes  thejf  desired,  soon  brdkfe 
uptlieliBSt. 

lii  the  meantime  lesser  rebfellions  of  the  saiiie 
kind  ^tdspered  for  a  while,  tpremost  among  the 
leddeirs  df  these  were  the  Biilmers,  one  of  whorii 
had  liad  the  command  of  Norkdm  Castle.  Sir  John 
Btllhiei:  brought  with  liini  to  tlie  cafaip  d.  dangerous 
arid  fahatical  woman,  named  MargSfet  Cheyhe,  liis 
pairahibiir,  and  a  bastard  daughter  of  the  Diike  of 
Biiekingham,  whoin  Henry  VIII.  Had  bfeheddsd. 
Wlieii  the  first  pilgrimage  failed,  and  the  iifewS 
cattie  that  Cromwell  was  not  disgraced,  that  no 
parliattient  ^a.%  to  be  held  at  York,  and  that  the 
king  Would  place  garrisons  in  Newcastle,  Scar- 
boirdiigli,  arid  Mull,  the  Bulmers,  urged  on  by  this 
wild  wbinah  dnd  Adani  SedWgh,  Abbot  df  Jer- 
vaiilxj  and  the  Abbot  of  Fouiitains,  resolved  on  a 
ne\^  pilgrimagfe.  Thomas  and  Ingram  Percy  had 
beeti  dejirived  of  their  comma,iid  in  the  North  by 
Earl  lienry,  aiid  were  ready  for  any  desperate 
effdtt.  They  defied  the  king's  new  lieutenant,  and 
prepared  for  a  fresh  outbreak.  As  Norfolk's  army 
approached,  the  rebels  seized  Beverley,  and  Sir 
Francis  Bigod  prepared  to  fight  for  the  old  order 
of  things  j  but  Yorkshire  was  afraid  of  the  king's 
power,  dnd'a  vain  attempt  on  Chillihgham  Casde, 
arid  another  on  Hull,  led  to  total  ruin.  A  few  days 
more,  and  the  ringleaders  were  all  arrested  and 


packed  in  the  Tower.  Aske,  Darcy,  Bigod,  Sir 
Thomas  Percy,  the  Abbot  of  Jervaulx,  Sir  John 
Bulmer,  all  perished  at  Tyburn,  and  Margaret 
Cheyne  was  burnt  in  Smithfield. 

The  next  prisoners  of  importance  who  came  to 
the  Beauchamp  Tower,  the  Garden  Tower,  and 
the  Nun's  Bower,  were  Lady  Jane  Grey,  her  young 
husband,  and  the  ambitious  nobles  who  forced  on 
her  the  fatal  crown  to  which  she  was  indifferent. 
The  nine  days'  reign  of  poor  Lady  Jane  Grey  filled 
the  Tower  prisons  with  the  Dudleys,  who  had  driven 
the  mild,  tender-hearted  girl  to  usurp  the  crown  on 
the  death  of  Edward  VI.     With  the  Queen  came 
Dudley,  the  Duke  of  Northumberland ;  John,  the 
young   Earl  of  Warwick;    Lord   Robert,  already 
married  to  luckless  Amy  Robsart ;  Lord  Ambrose 
Dudley,  a  mere  lad;    Lord  Guildford,  the  weak 
youth  who  had  married  Lady  Jane  to  gratify  his 
father's  ambition ;  and  Lord  Henry  Guildford,  his 
brother.      The  duke  was  shut  in  the  Gate  House, 
Lord  Ambrose  and  Lord  Henry  in  the  Nun's  Bower, 
Jane  herself  in  the  house  of  the  Deputy-Lieutenant, 
Lord  Robert  in  the  lower  tier  of  the  Beauchamp 
Tower,  Lord  Guildford  in  the  middle  tier.     In  two 
places,  on  the  north  side  of  his  prison,  and,  in  one 
instance,  just   above   the   name  of  the  Abbot  of 
Jervaulx,  Guildford  carved  his  wife's  name,  "  Jahe." 
Lady  Jane  Grey's  claim  to  the  throne  arose  in 
this  >vay.      Mary,  the  sister  of  Henry  VIII.,  on 
the  death  of  her  husband,  Louis  XII.  of  France, 
married    her    stalwart     lover,    Charles    Brandon, 
afterwards  Duke  of  Suffolk.     She  had  issue,  two 
princesses,  Frances  and  Eleanor.     Frances  maiYied 
Henry  Grey,  Marquis  of  Dorset,  and  Lady  Jane 
was  the  eldest  of  her  three  daughters.     When  King 
Edward,  that  precocious  boy,  died — as  some  still 
think,  of  poison — at   Greenwich   Palace,    Dudley 
kept  his  death  secret  for  a  whole  day,  and  then 
sent  for  the  Lord  Mayor  and  the  richest  aldermen 
and  merchants  of  London,  and  showed  them  forged 
letters-patent  giving  the  crown  to  Lady  Jane,  who 
had  already  married  his  son.     The  duke's  first  effort 
was  to  seize  the  Princess  Mary,  but  here  he  failed; 
faithful  friends  had   instantly  warned  her  of  her 
danger,  and  she  had  already  taken  flight,  to  rouse, 
her  adherents  to  arms.    Lady  Jane  was  then,  against 
her  will,  proclaimed  queen:     She  was  taken  to  the 
Tower  from  Sion  House,  and  was  received  as  a 
monarch  by  crowds  of  kneeling  citizens,  her  husband 
walking  by  her  side,  cap  in  hand.    She  refused,  how-    ,■ 
ever,  to  let  Guildford  be  proclaimed  king,  and  the 
lad  cried  petulantly  at  her  firmness.    Mary's  friends 
fast  rising  in   Norfolk,  Dudley  was  sent  against 
them,  with  a  train  of  guns  and  600  men.    As  they 
rode  along  Shoreditch,  the  distrusted  duke  said  to 


The  Tower.] 


THE  LAST  HOURS  OF  WYAT. 


69 


Lord  Grey,  "'The  people  press  to  see  us,  but  no 
man  cries  'God  speed  you!'"  In  London  all 
went  wrong.  Ridley,  Bishop  of  London,  denounced 
ME^ry  and  Popery,  but  the  crowd  was  evidently  for 
the  rightful  heiress. 

The  rebellion  was  soon  over.  Dudley  could  do 
nothing  in  Norfolk  without  more  men.  The  great 
nobles  were  faidiless  to  the  Queen  of  Nine  Days. 
The  tenth  day  Mary  was  proclaimed  in  Cl\eap,  and 
in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard.  The  archers  came  to 
the  Tower  and  demanjied  the  ]ceys,  whiph  were 
given  up.  Grey  ruslaed  into  his  daughter's  rpom, 
and  found  Lady  Jane  sitting,  unconscious  .of  her 
fate,  beneath  a  royal  canopy.  "  Coupe  down,  my 
child,"  said  the  miserable  duke ;  "  this  is  no  place 
for  you."  From  a  throne  the  poor  girl  passed 
quickly  to  a  prison. 

In  the  middle  room  of  the  Beauchamp  Tower, 
where  Warwick  and  his  brother  Guildford  werp  con- 
fined, Lord  Warwick,  in  the  dreary  hours,  carved 
an  emblematic  cipher  of  the  family  names,  which 
has  never  yet  been  accurately  read.  Two  bears 
and  a  ragged  staif  stand  in  a  frame  of  emblems 
— roses,  acorns,  geraniums,  honeysuckles — which 
some  folks,  Mr.  Dixon  says,  fancy  to  indicate  the 
initial  letters  of  his  kinsmen's  names — the  rose, 
Ambrose;  the  geranium,  Guildford;  the  pak,  Robert. 
Lord  Robert  (reserved  for  future  greatness)  carved 
in  the  lower  room  the  plain  words,  "Robert  Dudley." 
When  sent  to  the  upper  room  (probably  after 
Guildford's  death),  he  carved  on  the  wall  his 
emblem,  an  oak-branch,  and  the  letters  "  R.  D." 

Lady  Jane,  with  her  two  gentlewomen  by  her  side, 
spent  her  time  at  Deputy  Brydges'- house,  securely 
guarded,  reading  the  Greek  Testament,  and  mourn- 
ing for  her  father's  inevitable  fate.  Norfolk,  re- 
leased from  prison,  presided  in  Westminster  Hall 
at  the  trial  of  his  enemy,  Dudley.  The  Duke, 
Warwick,  and  Northampton  were  cqndpianed  to 
death.  Dudley  and  his  son  turned  Roman  Ca- 
tholics, but  failed  to  avert  their  doom.  Wyat's  mad 
rebellion  brought  Lady  Jane  and  her  foolish  hus- 
band to  the  block.  On  the  scaffold  she  de.clared 
her  acts  against  the  Queen  were  unlawful ;  "  but 
touching  the  procurement  and  desire  thereof,  by 
me  or  on  my  behalf,"  she  s^^,  "  I  wash  my  hands 
thereof  in  innocency  before  God,  and  in  {he  face 
of  you,  good  Christian  people^  this  day."  She  re- 
fused the  executioner's  help,  drew  the  white  kerchief 
over  her  own  eyes,  and  said  to  the  kneeling  execu- 
tioner, "  I  pray  you  dispatch  me  quicjtly."  JCneel- 
ing  before  the  block,  she  felt  for  it  with  inquiring 
hands.  As  she  laid  down  her  fair  young  head,  she 
exclaimed,  "  Lord,  into  thy  hands  I  commend  my 
spirit !"  and  the  heavy  axe  fell, 


It  was  while  Lady  Jane  and  the  Princess  Eliza- 
beth were  prisoners  in  the  Tower  that  Wyat's  mad 
rebellion  yvas  crushed,  and  the  reckless  man  himself 
was  locked  up  in  the  middle  chamber  of  the  Beau- 
champ  Tower.  On  the  slant  of  the  window  looking 
towards  the  Green  can  still  be  seen  carved  the  name 
of  "Thomas  Cobham,  1555"  (the  cousin  of  the 
leader  of  the  rebels).  The  final  break-down  of  Wyat, 
in  his  attempt  to  stop  the  Spanish  match,  we  have 
already  described  in  our  chapter  on  Ludgate  Hill, 
where  the  last  throws  of  the  game  were  played,  and 
we  need  not  recur  to  it  here.  The  last  mpinents  of 
Wyat  are  still  to  be  reviewed.  Wyat  is  described 
as  wearing,  when  taken  prisoner,  a  coat  of  mail  with 
rich  sleeves,  a  velvet  cassock  covered  with  yellow 
lace,  high  boots  and  spurs,  and  a  laced  velvet^iat. 
As  he  entered  the  Tower  wicket,  Sir  John  Brydges, 
the  Lieutenant,  threatened  him,  and  said,  "  Oh, 
thou  villain — traitor;  if  it  were  not  that  the  law 
must  pass  upon  thee,  I  would  stick  thee  through 
with  my  dagger."  "  It  is  no  mastery,  now,"  said 
Wyat,  conteniptuqusly,  and  strode  on. 

In  tlae  Tower,  out  of  thp  moonshine  of  vanity 
and  display,  Wyat  for  a  time  faltered.  He  made  a 
charge  against  Courtney,  son  of  the  Marquis  of 
Exeter,  and  a  descendant  of  Edward  IV. ;  and  even 
raised  a  suspicion  against  the  Princess  Elizabethi 
which  Renard,  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  used  witli 
dangerous  .effect.  Chandos,  the  Keeper  of  the 
Tower,  had  planned  a  scene,  as  Wyat  was  led  to 
execution,  ■  that  should  draw  from  him  an  open 
accusation  of  EUzabeth  and  Courtney.  On  his 
way  to  death  he  was  taken  into  the  Garden  Tower, 
where  Courtney  lay.  The  Lord  Mayor  and  the 
Prjyy  Council  were  there,  Courtney  himself  was 
brought  in,  but  Wyat  had  nothing  to  allege.  On 
the  scaffold  Wyat  told  the  people  that  he  had 
never  accused  either  the  Princess  or  Courtney  of  a 
knowledge  of  the  plot ;  and  a  priest,  pager  for  fresh 
victims,  reminded  him  that  he  had  said  differently 
at  the  Council.  "  That  which  I  then  said,  I  said," 
replied  Wyat ;  "  that  which  I  now  say  js  true." 
And  the  axe  fell. 

The  Courtney  mentioned  above  was  nearly  all 
his  life  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower. .  His  father  was 
executed  for  treason  by  IJenry  VIII.  On  Mary's 
accession  hp  was  released,  and  seemed  for  a  time 
to  have  persuaded  himself  that  she  would  accept 
him  as  a  husband.  He  was  piade  Earl  of  Devon, 
and  was  called  by  his  friends  "  the  White  Rose  of 
York."  As  the  Spanish  marriage  drew  near,  people 
began  to  mention  Courtney  as  a  fine  husband  for 
Elizabeth,  who  seems  to  have  really  had  some 
youthful  liking  for  the  weak,  handsome  aspirant, 
On  the  outbreak  of  Wyat's  rebeUion  he  was  again 


70 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Towq-. 


thrown  into  the  Tower.  After  Mary's  marriage, 
however,  he  was  released  and  sent  abroad.  He 
died  suddenly  at  Padua.  On  Courtney's  death 
the  house  of  York  was  represented  by  the  de- 
scendants of  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  Edmund  and 
Arthur,  nephews  of  the  Cardinal  Pole.  For  some 
vague  suspicion  of  encouraging  the  claim  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots  to  the  English  throne  they  were 
imprisoned  for  life  in  the  Tower.  In  the  Beau- 
champ  Tower  inscriptions  by  both  brothers  are 
still  to  be  seen.  Arthur  has  written,  among  other 
inscriptions — 

' '  A  passage  perilous  maketh  a  port  pleasant. '' 
Among  the  residents  of  the  Tower,  in  Mary's 
cruel  reign,  were  Cranmer,  Latimer,  and  Ridley. 


Cranmer,  who  had  refused  to  fly  when  Mary 
marched  to  London,  proved  but  faint  of  heart  when 
thrown  into  the  Garden  Tower.  He  had  resolved 
to  stay  to  own  his  share  in  the  changes  which  had 
been  made  in  the  days  of  Edward  VI.,  but  the  fire- 
less  cell  soon  brought  down  his  courage,  and  he 
trembled  for  his  life.  There  was  more  of  Peter 
than  of  Paul  about  him.  The  Tower's  solitude  led 
the  way  to  his  miserable  recantation  at  Oxford. 
But  he  revived  when  Latimer  and  Ridley  came  to 
share  his  prison,  and  they  searched  the  Scriptures 
together  for  arguments  against  Feckenham,  the 
Queen's  confessor,  whom  they  met  daily  at  the 
Lieutenant's,  where  they  dined,  and  whose  last 
argument  was  the  Smithfield  fire. 


CHAPTER    VII. 
THE     TOWER     (continued). 

Queen  Elizabeth's  Prisoners  in  the  Tower— The  Bishop  of  Ross  at  work  again— Charles  Bailly — Philip  Howard — Earl  of  Essex— Sir  Walter  Raleigh 
in  the  Tower — James  I.  and  the  Gunpowder  Plot— Guy  Fawkes — Father  Garnet — Percy — Arabella  Stuart— Murder  of  Sir  Thomas 
Overbury— Felton— Prynne — Strafford  and  Laud— A  Long  Roll  of  Notable  Tower  Prisoners — The  Spa  Fields  Riots  —The  Cato  Street 
Conspirators. 


And  now  we  come  to  EUzabeth's  prisoners,  the 
Roman  Catholic  plotters  against  her  throne  and 
life.  In  a  room  of  the  Belfry  Tower  are  the  names 
of  the  Countess  of  Lennox  and  her  five  attendants. 
This  countess  was  first  cousin  to  Elizabeth,  and 
married  by  Henry  to  the  fourth  Earl  of  Lennox. 
While  EUzabeth  was  proposing  Lord  Robert  Dudley 
to  Mary  as  a  husband,  offering,  as  the  condition 
of  her  accepting  a  Protestant  husband,  to  at  once 
appoint  Mary  heir  to  the  throne,  the  Countess 
of  Lennox  was  proposing  her  son  Darnley,  a 
Catholic.  Immediately  before  the  latter  marriage 
taking  place  the  countess  was  sent  to  the  Tower, 
not  to  be  released  till  Darnley's  miserable  death. 
Lennox  himself  was  assassinated,  and  the  countess, 
released  from  the  Tower,  died  poor,  and  was  buried 
in  Westminster  Abbey  at  the  Queen's  expense. 

Of  other  victims  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  the 
Tower  bears  traces.  One  of  these  was  a  young 
Fleming,  named  Charles  Bailly,  who  was  employed 
by  the  ambassador  in  London,  John  Leslie,  the  in- 
triguing Bishop  of  Ross,  to  carry  dangerous  letters 
to  Brussels  and  Madrid,  respecting  the  plots  of  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk.  In  vain  Elizabeth  had  said  to 
the  duke,  "  Take  care,  my  lord,  on  what  pillow  you 
lay  your  head."  He  plotted  on  till  he  blundered 
into  the  Tower.  The  Earl  of  Northumberland 
collected  10,000  men,  in  hope  to  rescue  Mary  and 
restore  the  Catholic  religion,  and  in  a  few  days  was 
a  hunted  fugitive.  Norfolk  was  released  aftef  many 
lying  promises.    The  Bishop  of  Ross  at  once  deter- 


mined on  a  new  effort.  A  Papal  bull  was  to  be 
launched,  deposing  the  Queen ;  the  Catholic  lords 
were  to  seize  the  Tower  j  Norfolk  was  to  march 
to  Tutbury,  rescue  Queen  Mary,  and  bring  her  to 
London  to  be  crowned.  In  the  meantime  he  wrote 
a  treasonable  book,  which  was  printed  at  Liege, 
entitled  "A  Defence  of  the  Honour  of  Mary,  Queen 
of  Scotland."  Bailly,  on  his  return  with  the  book 
and  some  dangerous  letters  referring  to  Norfolk, 
was  arrested  at  Dover.  The  Cobham  already 
mentioned  as  one  of  Wyat's  adherents,  having 
charge  of  the  prisoner  and  the  letters,  and  being 
a  Catholic,  resolved  to  befriend  the  bishop.  He 
therefore  sent  him  the  letters  to  change  for  others 
of  a  more  harmless  character.  Burleigh,  however, 
by  a  Catholic  spy,  discovered  the  truth,  and  put 
Charles  Bailly  to  the  rack.  The  plot  disclosed  led 
to  the  instant  arrest  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and 
the  Bishop  of  Ross.  In  the  good  Lord  Cob- 
ham's  room  Charles  has  inscribed  the  following 
words : — 

"I.H.S.  IS7I-  r*ie  10  Aprilis.  Wise  men  ought  cir- 
cumspectly to  see  what  they  do,  to  examine  before  they 
speak,  to  prove  before  they  take  in  hand,  to  beware  whose 
company  they  use,  and,  above  all  things,  to  whom  they 
trust. — Charles  Bailly." 

In  a  prison  in  the  Tower  the  Bishop  of  Ross 
confessed  the  Norfolk  and  Northumberland  plots, 
and  declared  Mary's  privity  to  the  death  of  Darnley. 
He  has  left  his  name  carved  in  the  Bloody  Tower, 
with  a  long  Latin  inscription,   now  half  erased. 


The  Tower.] 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH   IN  THE   TOWER. 


71 


Eventually,  squeezed  dry  pf  all  secrets,  and  fuU  of 
cramps  and  agues,  he  was  pontemptuously  fcleaseci 
and  sent  abroad.  Uorfolk  died  denouncing  his 
religion,  and  begging  pardon  of  the  Qijeeii.  He 
was  the  first  political  offender  who  suffered  in 
Elizabe^li's  reign,  Nprthurnberland  was  executed 
at  York,  apd  left  Jiis  'title  t9  Ws  brpther  Henfy,  vfi^Q 
perished  in  the  Tower.  The  ne^y  earl  soon  fell 
into  treason.  Misled  by  Jesuit  intriguers,  he  was 
/  waiting  for  the  laiidtng  of  the  Duke  of  iSuise  and 
a'  Catholic  crusade  g,gainst  Elizabeth,  >yhe!J  he  was 
thrown  infq  the  Tower,  where  h^  remained  a  whole 
year  in  the  Bloody  Tower  untried.  On  Sunday, 
June  21,  1585,  he  shot  himself  as  he  lay  in  bed,  to 
prevent  the  confiscation  of  his  estates.  An  absurd 
rumour  was  spread  by  the  Catholics  that  the'  earl 
was  murdered  by  order  pf  Jlatton  and  Raleigh. 
Cecil  and  Rajeigh's  Qtjier  riyal^  ^id  their  best  to 
perpetU3,te  sucji  a  calm^tjny.  A  piodern  historian, 
in  the  face  of  all  evidence,  Jia?  giyen  affectgci 
credence  to  thp  repprf. 

Another  pseij{^p-dathp}ic  pjartyr  of  this  reigji 
was  Philip  Howard,  a  spn  of  the  j)uke  of  Norfolk 
and  Mary  the  daughter  pf  the  Earl  pf  Arundel,  ^ 
weak  intriguing  ipfin.  He  Iia?  left  JR  \he  largg 
room  of  the  Be^\}p}i^mp  Tpyyer  thj^  is^criptipj^, 
carved  in  an  Itali^i^  h^iid:— r-  ' 

"  The  more  suffering  for  CJirist  in  tjiis  world,  sp  jnucji  the 
more  glory  with  Christ  V^  t^^  ^^^  t°  come. — Arundeli. 
June  22,  1587." 

Arundel  was  ^  pprvgrt,  ^n4  ]i9-d  fceen  captufei} 
while  on  his  way  to  join  tijg  ^rmy  of  Philip  of  Spain. 
Having  lost  favour  with  Elizabeth  for  having  gone 
over  to  the  Church  of  Rome,  Arundel  had  despaired 
of  further  progress  at  Court,  and  had  fled  to  Spain 
on  the  very  eve  of  the  Armada.  By  mean's  of 
bribes  paid  by  his  wife,  Arund^V  contrived  tp  liave 
mass  celebrated  in  his  cell.  Fpr  |hig  pffenpg  he 
was  cpndemned  tfi  death ;  but  the  Queen  p^$ipned 
the  pppr  fanatic,  and  he  lingered  in  prison  for  ten 
years,  at  the  end  pf  which  he  died — ppispned,  as 
the  Jesuits  said ;  but  mpre  prpbably  frpm  the  injury 
Jie  had  ^one  his  }iea}th  by  repeated  fa§ts. 
j  Of  that  wilful  and  unfortunate  faypupte  of  Eliza- 
beth, the  Earl  of  Essex,  we  shall  say  little  here. 
His  story  belongs  more  naturally  to  another  part  pf 
our  wprk — \he  chapter  pn  the  Strand,  whpre  he 
lived.  His  ra?h  ^eyqlt  w?;  liaye  already  glanced  s^\. 
At  the  ag?  pf  thirty-fiye  hp  lai4  6,oyvn  hi§  Jig^4  or 
the  block  on  Tower  Green.  He  was  attended  \)y 
three  diyines,  to  whom  he  expressed  deep  penitence 
for  his  "great  sin,  bloody  sin,  crying  and  infectious 
sin,"  and  begged  pardon  of  God  and  his  sovereign. 
He  never  meiitioiied  his  wife,  children,  or  friends ; 
tppk  leave  of  no  pne,  npt  even  of  thpse  present ; 


and  vvhen  lie  knelt  dpwn  tP  pray,  exhibited  cpn- 
siderable  agitatipn  of  mind. 

On  James's  accession,  th^t  great  nian,  yet  not 
without  many  a  stain,  Sir  Walter  Rajeigh,  became 
a  tenant  pf  the  Blpody  Tower.  He  }\a^  been  im- 
prisoned before  lay  Elizabeth  in  the  Brick  Tower, 
for  haying  seducpd  EUzabeth  Thrognaprton,  one  of 
her  maids  of  hfinpw- 

"  A  very  great  part  of  the  secpn4  an4  long  im- 
prisonment of  the  founder  of  Virginia,"  says  'ifi.r. 
Dixpn,  "was  spent  ip  the  Blppdy  Tpwer  and  the 
a4jpining  Garden  House,  wri|ing  at  tjiis  grated 
livindpw,  wprking  in  the  litUe  garden  on  which  it 
ppened,  pacing  the  tenrace  pn  this  wall,  which  was 
afterwards  fampus  as  Raleigh's  Walk.  Hither  came 
tP  hini  the  wits  an4  ppets,  the  schplars  and  inventors 
of  hi.^  tinie — ^J oxygon  and  Burrell,  Hariot  and  Pett — 
to  crack  light  jokes,  \o,  discuss  rabbinical  lore,  to 
§9111^4  Ihe  depths  pf  philosophy,  tp  map  put  Vir- 
ginia, tP  study  the  shipbiul^er's  ^rt,  In  the  Garden 
House  he  distilled  essences  and  spirits,  compounded 
his  great  cprdjal,  4i?cpyere4  S  IJiethpd  (afterwards 
Ipst)  pf  turning  salt  water  intfi  §weet,  received  the 
visits  pf  Priiipe  If  enry,  yyrPte  his  pplitical  tracts, 
|iiyeiitpd  the  roP4erR  war-ship,  wrpte  his  '  Histpry 

pftheWprtd-''' 

Jialeigli  was  several  tig^gg  in  the  Tpwer;  but 
niany  vaults  a!^4  pells  pointed  out  by  the  warders  in 
absvird  places — such  as  the  hole  IR  Little  Ease,  a 
recess  in  the  crypt,  a  cell  iji  the  Martin  Tower,  and 
one  in  the  Beauchamp  Tp\^^f — were  never  pccupipd 
by  him.  After  the  seductlPn  pf  h'S  future  wife, 
Raleigh  was  pkced  in  the  Brick  Tpwer,  the  resi- 
dence of  Sir  George  Carew,  Master  of  the  Ordnance, 
and  his  own  cousin,  and  was  released  upon  his 
marriage.  As  a  first  step  towards,  peace  with  Spain, 
James  I.,  on  his  accession,  imprisoned  Raleigh  in 
the  Bloody  Tower.  The  pretext  for  his  seizure 
was  his  aiding  Lord  Cobham,  the  brpther-in-law 
pf  Cecil,  in  a  plpt  to  raise  Arabella  Stuart  to  the 
throne.  Cobham,  chnging  to  life  with  the  base, 
ness  of  Claudio,  in  Measure  for  Measure,  accused 
Raleigh  of  compHcity,  and  then  retracted.  A 
report  was  spread  that  Raleigh  had  tried  to  stab 
hiftiself  while  sitting  at  the  Lieutenant's  table.  He 
remained  a  prisoner  for  fourteen  years.  His  wife 
and  son  were  allowed  tq  live  at  the  Tower,  where 
her  husband  and  his  three  pppr  servants  lived  on 
five  pounds  a  week.  He  was  at  last,  from  poverty, 
obliged  to  part  with  his  faithful  friend,  Thomas 
Hariot,  whom  he  had  sent  to  Virginia  in  1584,  and 
whose  mathematical  discoveries  Descartes  is  said 
to  have  stolen. 

During  this    long    imprisonment,   Raleigh  was 
allowed  to  use  a  hen-roost  in  the  garden  near  the 


72 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Tower. 


Bloody  Tower  as  a  place  for  distilling  and  for 
chemical  experiments.  There  he  made  balsams 
and  cordials,  and  occupied  himself  with  many  scien- 
tific inquiries.  When  increased  suspicions  fell  on 
Raleigh,  he  was  deprived  of  this  still-room,  and  his 
wife  and  two  children  (for  a  second  son  had  been 
born  since  his  imprisonment)  were  sent  from  the 
Tower.  He  then  became  so  ill  from  the  chill  of 
the  cell  that  he  was  allowed  to  live  in  the  Garden 
House,  which  had  been  the  still-room  where  he 
studied.  Here  he  discovered  a  cordial  still  used 
by  doctors;  here  he  discoursed  of  naval  battles 
with  Prince  »Henry,  who,  after  one  of  these  visits, 
cried  out  to    his  attendants,     "No  man  but  my 


written  by  King  James,  to  record  the  discovery 
of  the  Gunpowder  Plot;  for. in  this  chamber  Guy 
Fawfees  was  first  examined  by  Cecil,  Nottingham, 
Mountjoy,  and  Northampton.  Two  of  the  inscrip- 
tions run  thus  •.■^- 

"James  the  Great,  King  of  Great  Britain,  illustrious  for 
piety,  justice,  fordSight,  learning,  hardihcjod,  clemency, 
and  the  other  regal  virtues;  champion  and  patron  of  the 
Christian  faitli,  of  the  public  safety,  and  of  universal  peace ; 
author  most  subtle,  most  august,  and  most  auspicious : 

"  Queen  Anne,  the  most  serene  daughter  of  Frederick  the 
Second,  invincible  King  of  the  Banes  : 

"Prince  Henry,  ornament  of  nature,  strengthened  with 
learning,  blest  with  grace,  bom  and  given  to  us  from  God  : 

"  Charles,  Duke  of  York,  divinely  disposed  to  every  virtue : 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ST,    PETER  ON  TOWER  GREEN. 


father  would  keep  such  a  bird  in  a  cage."  Here 
he  finished  the  first  volume  of  his  "  History  of  the 
World,"  assisted,  it  is  said,  by  Ben  Jonson  and 
other  scholars.  Here,  bit  by  bit.  King  James 
stripped  him  of  houses  and  lands,  including  Durham 
House  and  Sherborne  Castle. 

After  his  release  and  unsuccessful  voyage  to  seek 
for  gold  in  Guiana,  Raleigh  returned  to  the  Tower, 
and  was  placed  in  a  poor  upper  room  of  the"  Brick 
Tower.  He  had  at  first  pleasant  rooms  in  the 
Wardrobe  Tower.  But  Spain  had  now  resolved  on 
liis  death,  and  James  was  ready  to  consent.  His 
enemies  urged  him  in  vain  to  suicidg.  The  morn- 
ing he  died,  Peter,  his  barber,  complained,  as  he 
dressed  his  master  to  go  to  the  scaffold,  that  his 
head  had  not  been  curled  that  morning.  "  Let  them 
comb  it  that  shall  have  it,"  answered  Raleigh. 

In  a  chamber  of  the  housfe  of  the  Lieutenant  of 
the  Tower,  looking  out  on  the  Thames,  several  oak 
panels  bear  inscriptions,  some  of  them  probably 


"Elizabeth,  full  sister  of  both,  most  worthy  of  her  parents: 
"Do  Thou,  all-seeing,  protect  these  as  the  apple  of  the 
eye,  and  guard  them  without  fear  from  wicked  men  beneath 
the  shadow  of  Thy  wings." 

"  To  Almighty  God,  the  guardian,  arrester,  and  avenger, 
who  has  punished  this  great  and  incredible  conspiracy  against 
our  most  merciful  Lord  the  King,  our  most  serene  Lady  the 
Queen,  our  divinely  disposed  Prince,  and  the  rest  of  our 
Royal  House  ;  and  against  all  persons  of  quality,  our  ancient 
nobility,  our  soldiers,  prelates,  and  judges ;  the  authors  and 
advocates  of  which  conspiracy,  Romanised  Jesuits,  of  per- 
fidious, Catholic,  and  serpent-like  ungodliness,  with  others 
equally  criminal  and  insane,  were  moved  by  the  furiqus  desire 
of  destroying  the  true  Christian  religion,  and  by  the  treasonous 
hope  of  overthrovidng  the  kingdAn,  root  and  branch;  and 
which  was  suddenly,  wonderfully,  and  divinely  detected,  at 
the  very  moment  when  the  ruin  was  impending,  on  the  Sth 
day  of  November,  in  the  year  of  grace  1605— William  Waad, 
whom  the  King  has  appointed  his  Lieutenant  of  the  Towei", 
returns,  on  the  ninth  of  October,  in  the  sixth  year  of  the  reign 
of  James  the  First,  1608,  his  great  and  everlasting  thanks." 

Fawkes  was  confined  in  a  dungeon  of  the  Keep. 
He  would  not  at  first  disclos)^  his  accomplices, 


The  Tower.] 


THE  CONSPIRATORS  IN  THE  TOWER. 


73 


but,  after  thirty  minutes  of  the  rack  ►he  confessed 
all.  It  is  not  loiown  who  first  proposed  the  mode 
of  destruction  l^  powder,  but  Fawkes,  a  pqivert, 
who  had  been  a  soldier,  was  selected  as  a  fitting 
worker-out  of,  the  plan.  To  the  last  Fawkes 
-affirmed  that  when  the  conspirators  took  oath  in 
his  lodgings  in  Butcher's  Row^  Strand,  Father 
Gerard,  who;  administered  the  sacrament,  was  igno- 
rant of  the  purpose  of  their  oath.  Fawkes,  with 
Keyes,  Rookwood,  and  Thomas  Winter,  were  drawn 
on  hurdles  to  Palace  Yard,  and  there  hung  and  d^- 
emhowelled.  Digby,  Robert  Winter,  Grant,  and 
Bates  were  hung,  near  Paul's  Cross. 


Another  Tpwer  prisoner  in  this  reign  was'  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  a  patron  of  science.  His 
kinsman,  Thomas  Percys  had  been  deep  in  the 
plot,  and  was  the  man  who  hired  the  cellar  where 
the  barrels  of  powder  were  laid.  He  was  allotted 
a  house  in  the  Martin  Tower,  at  the  north-east, 
angle  of  the  fortress,  afterwards  the  Jewel  House, 
where  Colonel  Blood  made  his  impudent  dash  on 
the  regalia.  There  he  remained  for  sixteen  years, 
pacing  daily  on  the  terrace  which  connected  his 
rooms  with  the  Brick  Tower  and  the  Constable's 
Tower,  and  which  still  bears  his  name.  A  sun-dial 
fixed  for  him  on  the  south  |^ce  of  the  IV^^rtin  Tower, 


Cfiris  tori h-er  j.-,^ 


Thomas 


Guido 
Fawkes 


Robert 
CaCesby 


Thomas 
Winter 


GUY  FAWKES  AND  THE  CONSPIRATORS.     {From  a  Contemprary  Print.) 


Father  Garnet  was  found  hiding  at  Hendlip  Hall, 
in  Wojfcestershire.  He  was  at  first  confined  in  the 
Keep,  then  in  a  chamber  on  the  lower  tier  of  the 
Bloody  Tower.  When  it  was  said  to  him,  "You 
shall  have  no  place  in  the  calendar,"  "I  am  not 
worthy  of  it,"  he  replied,  "but  I  hope  to  have  a 
place  in  heaven."  In  the  Tower,  Garnet  was  per- 
suaded by  a  spy  to  converse  with  another  priest  in 
an  adjoining  cell,  and  their  conversations  were  noted 
down  by  spies.  He  confessed  that  in  Elizabeth's 
time  he  had  declared-  a  powder  plot  to  be  lawful, 
but  wished  to  save  as  many  as  he  could.  Garnet's 
servant.  Little  John,  in  fear  Of  the  rack,  stabbed 
himself  in  his  cell.  On  the  scaffold  before  St.  Paul's, 
Garnet  asserted  the  virtue  of  Anne  Vaux,  with  whom 
it  is  certain  he  had  carried  on  an  intrigue,  and 
hoped  the  Catholics  in  England  would  fare  no 
worse  for  his  sake. 
55— Vol.  it 


by  the  famous  astronomer  Hariot,  is  still  to  be 
seen  there.  ,  Accused  of  wishing  to  put  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  English  Catholics,  he  was  fined 
;^30,ooo,  deprived  of  all  his  appointments,  and 
sentenced  to  imprisonment  for  life.  He  spent  his 
time  in  mathematical  studies,  and  kept  Hariot  by 
his  side.  He-  was  a  friend  of  Raleigh,  and  was 
visited  by  men  of  science.  He  was  at  last  released 
by  the  intercession  of  his  beautiful  daughter  Lucy, 
who  had  married  Hay,  a  Court  favourite,  after- 
wards Earl  of  Carlisle. 

Nor  must  we  forget  that  fair  prisoner,  Arabella 
Stuart,  a  kinswoman  of  James,  who  was  sent  to  the 
Tower  for  daring  to  marry  her  relation,  William 
Seymour,  who  was  also  of  royal  descent.  Seymour 
escaped  to  France,  but  she  remained  five  years  in  the 
To\ver,  in  neglect  and  penury,  and  died  at  last,  worii 
out  with  pining  for  freedom,  her  mind  a  wreck. 


74 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Tower. 


The  murder  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury  in  the 
Tower  is  one  of  the  darkest  of  the  many  dark  pages 
in  the  reign  of  James  I.  It  was  the  last  great  crime 
committed  in  the  blood-stained  building  where  so 
many  good  and  wise  men  had  pined  away  half  their 
lives.  Overbury,  a  poet  and  statesman  of  genius,, 
was  the  friend  of  the  king's.young  Scotch  favourite, 
Carr.  When  a  handsome  boy  he  had  been  injured 
in  a  tilt,  and  had  attracted  the  king's  attention. 
James,  eager  to  load  his  young  Ganymede  with 
favours,  wedded  him  to  the  divorced  wife  of  Lord 
Essex,  a  beautiful  but  infamous  woman,  whose  first 
marriage  had  been  conducted  at  Whitehall  with 
great  splendour,  Inigo  Jones  supplying  the  scenery, 
and  Ben  Jonson,  in  beautiful  verse,  eulogising  the 
handsome  '  couple  in  fallacious  prophecies.  Carr 
ruled  the  king,  and  Overbury  ruled  Carr.  All  went 
well  between  the  two  friends,  who  had  begun  life 
together,  till  Overbury  had  exerted  himself  to  pre- 
vent Carr's  marriage  with  the  divorced  Lady  Essex. 
The  lady  then  resolved  on  his  death.  She  tried 
to  bribe  assassins  and  poisoners,  and,  all  these 
plans  failing,  the  king  was  persuaded  to  send  him 
as  an  envoy  to  Moscow.  Overbury  refusing  to  go, 
was  thrown  into  the  Bloody  Tower.  Here  Lady 
Essex  exerted  all  her  arts  to  take  away  his  life. 
An  infamous  irian,  named  Sir  Gervaise  Helwyss, 
was  appointed  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  and  a 
servant  of  Mrs.  Turner,  the  infamous  poisoner 
(mentioned  in  our  chapter  on  Paternoster  Row), 
placed  as  keeper  in  the  Bloody  Tower.  Poisoned 
jellies  and  tarts  were  frequently  sent  to  Overbury 
by  Lady  Essex  in  the  name  of  Carr,  and  poisons 
were  mixed  in  almost  everything  he  took;  Yet 
so  strong  was  the  poet's  constitution,  that  he  still 
bore  up,  till  a  French  apothecary  was  sent  to  him, 
who  administered  medicines  that  soon  produced 
death.  The  marriage  of  Lady  Essex  and  Carr, 
now  made  an  earl,  soon  took  place,  and  was  cele- 
brated with  great  splendour  at  Whitehall.  The 
Earl  of  Northampton,  who  had  aided  Lady  Essex 
in  this  crime,  died  a  few  months  afterwards,  and 
all  was  for  a  time  hushed  up.  In  the  meantime 
Overbury's  friends  had  printed  his  fine  poem  of 
"  The  Wife  "  (the  model  of  virtue  held  out  for  his 
friend's  example),  and  five  editions  of  the  poem 
had  roused  public  attention.  Just  at  this  time,  a 
boy  employed  in  the  Tower  by  the  French  apothe- 
cary who  gave  Overbury  his  coup  de  gr&ce,  fell  sick 
in  Flanders,  and  confessed  his  crime  to  the  English 
resident.  Gradually  the  murder  came  out.  The 
Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  half  confessed,  and  the 
criminals  were  soon  under  arrest.  Hands  were 
also  laid  oil  Carr  and  his  wife,  Mrs.  Turner,  Weston, 
the  man  placed  in  charge  of  Overbury,  and  an 


apothecary,  Franklin.  The  nation  was  infuriated 
and  cried  for  vengeance.  There  were  even  rumours 
that  the  same  wretches  had  poisoned  Prince  Henry, 
the  heir  to  James's  throne.  Helwyss  was  hung  in 
chains  on  Tower  Hill;  Mrs.  Turner  at  Tyburn; 
Franklin  and  Weston  were  contemptuotisly  put  to 
death.  The  trial  of  the  greater  culprits  followed. 
The  countess  pleaded  guilty,  and  was  condemned 
to  death;  and  in  Carr's  case  the  chief  evidence 
was  suppressed.  Eventually  the  earl  and  coimtess 
were  pardoned.  They  left  the  Bloody  Tower  and 
the  Garden  House,  and  lived  in  seclusion  and 
disgrace.  The  only  child  of  these  murderers  was 
the  mother  of  that  excellent  Lord  William  Russell 
Vho  was  afterwards  beheaded. 

Mention  of  every  State  prisoner  whom  the  Tower 
has  housed  would  in  itself  fill  a  volume.  We  must 
therefore  confine  ourselves  to  brief  notices  of  the 
greater  names.  Nor  must  his  innocence,,  prevent 
our  mentioning,  after  the  murderers  of  Overbury, 
that  patriarch  of  English  philosophy.  Lord  Bacon, 
who,  oh  his  sudden  fall  from  greatness,  when 
Buckingham  threw  him  as  a  sop  to  appease  the 
people,  was  confined  here  for  a  period  which, 
though  short,  must  have  been  one  of  extreme 
mental  agony.  He  was  only  imprisoned  one  day 
in  the  Lieutenant's  house.  "To  die  in  this  dis- 
graceful place,  and  before  the  time  of  His  Majesty's 
grace,  is  even  the  worst  that  could  be,"  said  the 
great  man,  whose  improvidence  and  whose  rapacious  ■ 
servants  had  led  him  to  too  freely 'accept  presents 
which  his  enemies  called  "  bribes." 

But  we  must  hasten  on  to  the  reign  of  Charles, 
when  Felton  struck  that  deadly  blow  in  the  doorway 
at  Portsmouth,  and  Charles's  hated  favourite,  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  fell  dead.  Felton,  an  officer 
whose  claims  had  been  disregarded,  had  stabbed 
the  duke,  believing  him  to  be  a  public  enemy. 
He  was  lodged  in  the  Bloody  Tower,  and  as  he 
passed  to  his  prison  the  people  cried,  "  The  Lord 
bless  thee  ! "  The  Parliament  Remonstrance 
against  the  duke,  which  Felton  had  read  in  the 
"  Windmill"  Tavern,  in  Shoe  Lane  had  first  roused 
him  to  the  deed.  The  turning-point  of  Charles's 
fate  was  the  committal  of  the  nine  members- 
Holies,  Eliot,  Selden,  Hobart,  Hayman,  Coiyton,  / 
Valentine,  Strode,  and  Long— to  the  Tower.  They  ' 
had  carried  resolutions  against  the  tax  by  tonnage 
and,  poundage  proposed  by  the  king.  These 
men,  so  active  against  Laud  and  despotic  power, 
were  lodged  in  the  Lieutenant's  House.  Two 
were  at  once  pardoned ;  the  others  were  heavily 
fined.  The  ringleader,  Eliot,  refused  to  retract, 
died  in  confinement,  tesolute  to  the  last,  and  he 
was  buried  in  the  Tower. 


The  Tower.] 


NOTABLE  PRISONERS  OF  THE  TOWER. 


7S 


Then  came  to  the  Tower  that  tough,  obstinate 
lawyer,  Prynne,  who,  for  an  attack  on  theatres,  was 
put  in  the  pillory,  fined  ;^5,ooo,  and  had  both  his 
ears  shorn  off.  After  four  years'  imprisonment 
Prynne  again  attacked  Archbishop  Laud's  Popish 
practices,  and  was  again  punished.  But  the  tide 
was  now  turning.  Presently  through  the  Tower 
gates  passed  Thomas  Wentworth,  Earl  of  Strafford, 
that  dark  bold  spirit  that  ha<l  resolved  to  brave  it 
out  for  despotism,  and  in  the  attempt  was  trodden 
under  foot.  Charles  gave  him  up  to  the  people,  in 
one  of  his  feeble  and  vain  attempts  to  conciliate 
those  whom  he  had  wronged.  When  there  was 
fear  Strafford  might  be  torn  to  pieces  on  his  way 
to  the  scaffold,  he  said,  "  I  care  not  how  I  die, 
by  the  executioner  or  by  the  people."  He  stopped 
under  Laud's  window  for  his  blessing,  but  Laud, 
in  the  act  of  blessing,  swooned.  Four  years  after 
Laud  also  perished  on  Tower  Hill.  As  he  went  to 
the  scaffold,  says  his  last  historian,  his  face  turned 
from  purple  to  ghastly  white.  A  poor,  narrow- 
minded,  cruel  man,  it  is  a  pity  his  enemies  did  not 
send  him  over  to  France,  and  there  leave  him  to 
trim  altars  and  arrange  processions  to  his  heart's 
content. 

The  Tower  prisoners  of  Charles  II.'s  time  were 
men  of  less  mark  and  of  less  interest.  The  first 
offender  was  James  Harrington,  the  author  of  that 
political  romance,  "Oceania,"  the  pubUcation  of 
which  Cromwell  had  been  too  magnanimous  to 
resent.  He  eventually  became  insane,  and  after 
several  changes  of  prison,  died  and  was  buried 
next  Raleigh,  in  St.  Margaret's  Church.  In  the 
same  foolish  revelling  reign  the  Duke  of  Rich- 
mond got  shut  up  in  the  Tower  for  ]three  weeks, 
being  compromised  for  proposing  maniage  to 
Frances  Terese,  one  of  the  king's  mistresses  (the, 
"  Britannia"  of  our  English  halfpence).  The  Duke 
eventually  eloped  with  her,  but  he  survived  the 
marriage  only  a  few  years.  In  1665  Baron  Morley 
was  sent  to  the  Tower  for  stabbing  a  gentleman 
named  Hastings  in  a  street  fight,  with  the  help  of  a 
duellist  named  Captain  Bromwich.  He  pleaded 
benefit  of  clergy,  and  peers  being,  at  that  period 
of  our  history,  allowed  to  murder  without  punish- 
ment, he  was  acquitted. 

The  half-mad  Duke  of  Buckingham  seems  to 
have  been  fond  of  the  Tower,  for  he  was  no  less  than 
five  times  imprisoned  there.  The  first  time  (before 
the  Restoration),  Cromwell  had  imprisoned  him  for 
marrying  the  daughter  of  Fairfax.  The  last  time,  he 
accompanied  Shaftesbury,  Salisbury,  and  V^arton, 
for  opposing  the  Courtier  Parliament.  Penn,  the 
eminent  Quaker,  was  also  imprisoned  in  the  Tower 
in  Charles's  reign,  nominally  for  writing  a  Unitarian 


pamphlet,  but  really  to  vex  his  father,  the  Admiral, 
who  had  indirectly  accused  the  Duke  of  York  of 
cowardice  at  sea,  on  the  eve  of  a  great  engagement 
with  the  Dutch.  Stillingfleet  at  last  argued  the 
inflexible  prisoner  into  Christianity,  and  he  was 
released. 

When,  on  the  discovery  of  the  Rye  House  Plot, 
Lord  William  Russell  was  arrested,  he  was  sent  to 
the  Tower  first,  and  then  to  Newgate.  "  Arbitrary 
government  cannot  be  set  up  in  England,"  he 
said  to  his  chaplain,  "  without  wading  through  my 
blood."  The  very  day  Russell  was  removed  from 
his  prison,  and  Charles  II.  and  James  visited  the 
place,  the  Earl  of  Essex,  in  a  fit  of  despair  at 
being  mixed  up  in  the  Rye  House  Plot,  or  from 
fears  at  his  own  guilt,  killed  himself  with  a  razor. 
He  was  imprisoned  at  the  time  in  lodgings  between 
the  Lieutenant's  house  and  the  Beauchamp  Tower. 

Lord  Stafford  (one  of  the  victims  of  Titus  Oates 
and  his  sham  Popish  Plot)  was  imprisoned  in  the 
Tower,  and  perished  under  the  axe  on  Tower  Hill. 
When  the  rabble  insulted  him,  Stafford  appealed  to 
the  officials  present.  Sheriff  Bethel  brutally  re- 
pHed,  "Sir,  we  have  orders  to  stop  nobody's  breath 
but  yours." 

Another  victim  of  this  reign  was  the  famous 
Algernon  Sidney,  a  stern  opponent  of  Charles,  but 
no  plotter  against  his  person.  The  wretch  Jeffreys 
hounded  on  the  jury  to  a  verdict.  Sidney's  last 
words  in  court  were  a  prayer  that  the  guilt  of  his 
death  might  not  be  imputed  to  London.  On  his 
way  to  Tower  Hill,  he  said,  "  I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth,  and  I  die  for  the  old  cause." 

Another  turn  of  Fortune's  wheel,  and  James, 
Duke  of  Monmouth,  the  fugitive  from  Sedgemoor, 
was  found  half-starved  in  a  ditch,  and  was  brought 
to  his  prison  lodgings  at  the  Lieutenant's  house. 
He  proved  a  mere  craven,  offered  to  turn  Catholic 
to  save  his  life,  and  talked  only  of  his  mistress. 
Tenison,  the  Vicar  of  St.  Martin's  Church,  refused 
him  the  sacrament,  and  the  last  words  of  the  pre- 
lates in  attendance  were,  as  the  axe  fell,  "God 
accept  your  imperfect  repentance." 

James  fled,  and  the  next  State  prisoner  was  that 
cruel  and  brutal  myrmidon  of  his.  Judge  Jeffreys. 
Detected  in  the  disguise  of  a  sailor,  he  was  taken, 
and  with  difficulty  saved  from  the  enraged  mob. 
He  was  discovered  at  a  low  ale-house  in  Wapping 
by  a  man  whom  he  had  once  bullied  and  frightened 
in  court.  He  spent  his  time  in  the  Bloody  Tower 
drinking,  of  which  he  at  last  died.  He  was  at 
first  buried  near  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  then 
removed  to  St.  Mary  Aldermary.  Our  readers 
win  remember  the  cruel  jest  played  upon  Jeffreys 
in  the  Tower,  by  a  man  who  sent  him  a  barrel, 


76 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Tower.  • 


apparently  full  of  Colchester  oysters,  but  which 
when  opened  proved  to  contain  only  a  halter. 

In  1697,  when  Sir  John  Feiiwick  was  in  the 
Tower  for  a  plot  to  assassinate  King  William,  his 
friends,  afraid  he  would  "  squeak,"  interceded  that 
he  should  be  beheaded.  It  was  certainly  very 
unlike  a  gentleman  to  swing,  but  he  was  so  proud 
of  being  beheaded,  that  he  grew  quite  tractable 
when  the  request  was  granted. 

The  Scotch  Jacobite  lords  were  the  next  visitors 
to  the  Tower.  When  the  white  cockade  was 
trodden  into  the  mire,  the  leaders  of  the  chevalier's 
followers  soon  found  their  way  there.  The  Earl  of 
Derwentwater  (about  whom  so  many  north-country 
ballads  exist)  and  Lord  Kenmure,  the  grandson  of 
Charles  II.,  perished  on  Tower  Hill.  Derwent- 
water's  last  words  were,  "  I  die  a  Roman  Catholic. 
I  am  in  perfect  charity  with  all  the  world ;  I  thank 
God  for  it.  I  hope  to  be  forgiven  the  trespasses 
of  my  youth  by  the  Father  of  infinite  mercy,  into 
whose  hands  I  commend  my  soul."  Kenmure, 
who  had  expected  a  pardon,  came  on  the  scaffold 
in  a  gay  suit.  "  God  bless  King  James,"  he  cried, 
as  he  knelt  to  the  block.  Lord  Winton  filed  the 
bars  of  his  window,  and  escaped. 

Lord  Nithsdale  also  escaped,  thanks  to  his  brave 
wife.  His  escape  is  ofte  of  the  prettiest  romances 
connected  with  the  Tower.  Failing  to  obtain 
mercy  from  George  I.,  who  shook  her  from  'him, 
she  struck  out,  in  her  love  andjdespair,  a  stratagem 
worthy  of  a  noble  wife.  With  the  help  of  some 
female  friends  and  a  useful  Welsh  servant  girl, 
she  disguised  her  husband  as  her  maid,  and  with 
painted  cheeks,  hood,  and  mufiler,  he  contrived  to 
pass  the  sentries  and  escape  to  the  hodse  of  the 
Venetian  agent.  The  next  morning  the  earl  would 
have  perished  with  his  comrades. 

In  1722,  Pope's  friend  Atterbury,  the  Jacobite 
Bishop  of  Rochester,  was  thrown  into  the  Tower, 
and,  with  ferocious  drollery,  it  was  advised  that 
he  should  be  thrown  to  the  Tower  lions.  Layer, 
a  barrister,  one  of  his  fellow-conspirators,  was 
chained  in  the  Tower  and  soon  after  executed. 
The  unlucky  '45  brought  more  Scottish  lords  to 
the  Tower  J  the  Earl  of  Cromartie,  the  Earl  of 
Kilmarnock,  Derwentwater's  younger  brother.  Lord 
Balmerino,  and  that  hoary  old  rascal,  Simon,  Lord 
Lovat,  whom  Hogarth  sketched  on  his  way  to 
London,  as  he  was  jotting  off  the  number  of  the 
rebel  clans  on  his  mischievous  old  fingers.  Cro- 
martie was  spared :  of  the  rest,  Kilmarnock  died 
first ;  then  the  scaffold  was  strewn  with  fresh  saw- 
dust, the  block  new  covered,  a  new  axe  brought, 
and  the  executioner  re-clad,  by  the  time  old  Bal- 
ijierino  appeared,  calm  and  careless,  as  with  the  air 


of  an  old  soldier  he  stopped  to  read  the  inscription 
upon  his  own  coffin.  At  Lovat's  execution,  in  1747, 
a  scaffold  fell  with  some  of  the  spectators,  and 
the  doomed  man  chuckled  and  said,  "The  mair 
mischief,  the  mair  sport."  "Dulce  et  decorum 
est  pro  patria  mori,"  said  the  greatest  rascal  of  his 
day ;  and  then  declaring  himself  a  true  Catholic, 
Lovat  died,  the  last  State  criminal  beheaded  on 
Tower  Hill.  A  stone  with  three  rude  circles  in 
St.  Peter's  Chui^ch  marks  the  grave  of  the  three 
Scotch  Jacobites. 

Of  Wilkes's  imprisonment  in  the  Tower  we  shall 
have  occasion  to  speak  elsewhere. 

Then  came  other  days,  when  Pitt  frightened 
England  with  rumours  ofrevolutionaryconspiracieSi.. 
The  leaders  of  the  London  Corresponding  Society, 
and  the  Society  for  Constitutional  Information, 
were  seized  in  1794 — the  Habeas  Corpus  Act 
being  most  tyrannically  suspended.  Among  the 
reformers  then  tried  on  a  charge  of  constructive 
treason  were  Home  Tooke,  the  adversary  of  Junius, 
Thelwall,  and  Hardy,  a  shoemaker  (secretary  of 
the  Corresponding  Society).  Erskine  defended 
Hardy,  who  was  acquitted;  as  also  were  Home 
Tooke  and  Thelwall,  to  the  delight  of  all  lovers 
of  progress. 

Sir  Francis  Burdett's  story  will  come  more 
naturally  into  our  Piccadilly  chapter,  but  a  few 
facts  about  his  imprisonment  in  the  Tower  will  not 
be  out  of  place.  In  18 10  he  was  committed  by  a 
Tory  House  of  Commons  for  a  bold  letter  which 
he  had  written  to  his  constituents  on  the  case  of 
John  Gale  Jones,  a  delegate  of  the  Corresponding 
Society,  who  had  been  lodged  in  Newgate  for  a 
libel  on  the  House.  Burdett  denied  the  power  of 
the  House  to  order  imprisonment,  or  to  keep  men 
in  prison  untried. 

The  year  18 16  brought  some  less  noble  prisoners 
than  Sir  Francis  to  the  Tower.  The  Spa  Fields 
riots  were  followed  by  the  arrest  of  Watson,  a  bank- 
rupt surgeon,  Preston,  a  cordwainer,  and  Hooper, 
a  labourer,  all  of  whom  were  members  of  certain 
socialist  clubs. 

The  desperate  but  fooUsh  Cato  Street  conspira- 
tors of  1820  were  the  last  State  prisoners  lodged  in 
the  Tower,  which  Mr.  Dixon  seems  to  think  was 
thus  robbed  of  all  its  dignity.  The  cells  that  have 
held  Ings,  the  butcher,  and  Davidson,  the  negro, 
can  never  be  perfiimed  sufficiently  to  hold  noble 
traitors  or  villains  of  mediaeval  magnitude.  Thistle- 
wood,  that  low  Cataline,  who  had  served  in  the 
army,  was  lodged  in  the  Bloody  Tower,  as  the 
place  of  honour,  Brunt  in  the  Byeward  Tower, 
Ings  and  Davidson  in  the  Water  Gate,  aqd  Tidd  ' 
in  the  Seyen-Gun  Battery, 


The  Tower.] 


THE  'Jewel  house. 


n 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

THE    TOWER    (continued). 

The  Jewels  of  the  Tower — The  Imperial  State  Crown — St.  Edward's  Crown— Prmce  of  Wales's  Crown— Ancient  Queen's  Crown— The  Queen's 
Diadem  or  Circlet  of  Gold— The  Orb— St.  Edward's  Staff— The  King's  Sceptres— The  Queen's  Sceptre— The  Queen's  Ivory  Rod— The 
Ampulla — The  Curtana,  or  Sword,  of  Mercy — Bracelets — The,  R£>yal  Spurs — The  Saltcellar  of  State — Blood's  Desperate  Attempt  to 
Steal  the  Regalia— ^The  Tower  Armouries — Absurd  Errors  in  their  Arrangement — Chain  Mail — German  Fluted  Armour — Henry  VIII.'s  Suit 
of  Armour — Horse  Armour — Tilting  Ssiit  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester — A  Series  of  Strange  Blunders — Curiosities  of  the  Armoury — Naval 
Relics — Antiquities. 

piercing  being  filled  up  by  a  small  ruby.  Around 
this  ruby,  to  form  the  cross,  are  seventy-fivfe  brilliant 
diamonds.  Three  other  Maltese  crosses,  forming 
the  two  sides  and  back  of  the  crown,  have  emerald 
centres,  and  contain  respectively  132,.  124,  and  130 
brilliant  diamonds. 

"  Between  the  four  Maltese  crosses  are  four 
ornaments  in  the  form  of  the  French  fleur-de-lis, 
with  four  rubies  in  the  centres,  a:nd  surrounded 
by  rose  diamonds,  containing  respectively  eighty- 
five,  eighty-six^  eighty-six,,  arjd  eighty-seven  rose 
diamonds. 

"  From  the  Maltese  crosses  issue  four  imperial 
arches,  composed  of  oak-leaves  and  acorns ;  the 
leaves  containing  728  rose,  table,  and  brilliant 
diamonds;  thirty-two  pearls  forming  the  acorns, 
set  in  cups  containing  fifty-four  rose  diamonds  and 
one  table  diamond.  The  total  number  of.  diamonds 
in  the  arches  and  acorns  is  108  brilliant,  116  table, 
and  559  rose  diamonds. 

"From  the  upper  part  of  the  arches  are  sus- 
pended four  large  pendant  pear-shaped  pearls, 
with  rose  diamond  caps,  containing  twelve  rose 
diamonds,  and  stems  cofitaining  twenty-four  very 
small  rose  diamonds.  Above  the  arch  stands  the 
mound,  containing  in  the  lower  hemisphere  304 
brilliants,  and  in  the  upper  244  brilliants ;  the 
zone  and  arc  being  composed  of  thirty-three  rose 
diamonds.  The  cross  on  the  summit  has  a  rose- 
cut  sapphire  in  the  centre,  surrounded  by  four  large 
brilliants,  and  108  smaller  brilliants." 

The  next  crown  to  be  mentioned  is  known  as 
St.  Edward's.*  It  is  the  imperial  crown  with 
which  the  kings  of  England  have  been  crowned. 
It  was  made  for  the  coronation  of  Charles  II.,  to 
replace  the  one  broken  up  and  sold  during  the  civil 
wars.  It  is  embellished  with  pearls,  dia,monds, 
rubies,  ^neralds,  and  sapphireis,  with  a  mound  of 
gold  on  the  top,  enriched  with  a  band  or  fillet 
of  gold,  garnished  also  with  precious  stones,  and 
three  very  large  oval  pearls,,  one  at  the  top,  and 

*  It  derives  its  name  from  the  ancient  crown,  supposed  to 
have  been  worn  by  King  Edward  tlie  Confessor,  and  wTiich 
was  preserved  in  Westminster  Abbey  till  the  rebellion  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  I.,  when  it  was  sacrilegiously  taken  away, 
together  with  many  other  articles  belonging  to  the  regaliai 


The  present  Jewel  House  at  the  Tower  is  the  old 
Record  Tower,  formerly  called  the  Hall  Tower. 
The  regalia  were  originally  kept  in  a  small  building 
at  the  south  side  of  the  White  Tower,  but  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  I.  they  were  transferred  to  a  strong 
chamber  in  the  Martin  Tower,  afterwards  called 
the  Jewel  Tower,  which  being  damaged  in  the  great 
fire  of  1841,  the  warders  removed  the  regalia  to 
the  governor's  house.  'The  new  Jewel.  House  was 
erected  the  same  year,  and  is  more  commodious 
than  the  old  room. 

Here  you  see  the  types  of  .power  and  sovereignty. 
The  collection  is  surmounted  by  the  imperial  State 
crown  of  Her  Majeisty  Queen  Victoria.  This 
crown,  says  Professor  Tennant,  "was  made  by 
Messrs.  Rundell  and  Bridge,  in  the  year  1838, 
with  jewels  taken  from  old  crowns,  and  others 
furnished  by  command  of  Her  Majesty.  It  consists 
of  diamonds,  pearls,  rubies,  sapphires,  and  emeralds, 
set  in  silver  and  gold  ;  it  has  a  crimson  velvet  c4p 
with  ermine  border,  and  is  lined  with  white  silk. 
I'ts  gross  weight  is  39  oz.  5  dwt.  troy.  The  lower 
part  of  the  band,  above  the  ermine  border,  consists 
of  a  row  of  129  pearls,  and  the  upper  part  of  the 
band  a  row  of  1 1 2  pearls,  between  which,  in  front  of 
the  crown,  is  a  large  sapphire  (partly  drilled),  pur- 
chased for  the  crown  by  His  Majesty  George  IV. 
At  the  back  is  a  sapphire  of  smaller  size,  and  six 
other  sapphires  (three  on  each  side),  between  which 
are  eight  emeralds. 

"Above  and  below  the  seven  sapphires  are  four- 
teen diamonds,  and  around  the  eight  emeralds  128 
diamonds.  Between  the  emeralds  and  sapphires 
are  sixteen  trefoil  ornaments,  containing  160 
diamonds.  Above  the  band  are  eight  sapphires, 
surmounted  by  eight  diamonds,  between  which  are 
eight  festoons,  consisting  of  148  diamonds. 

"  In  the  front  of  the  crown,  and  in  the  centre  of 
a  diamond  Maltese  cross,  is  the  famous  ruby,  said 
to  have  been  given  to  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales, 
son  of  Edward  III.,  called  the  Black  Prince,  by 
Don  Pedro,  King  of  Castile,  after,  the  battle  of 
Najera,  near  Vittoria,  a.d.  1367.  This  ruby  was 
worn  in  the  helmet  of  Henry  V.  at  the  battle  of 
Agincourt,  a.d.  14x5.  It  is  pierced  quite  through, 
after  the  Eastern  custom,   the  upper  part  of  the 


7§ 


OLt)  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Tne  Tower. 


the  others  pendant  to  the  ends  of  the  cross.  This 
crown  is  formed  of  four  crosses,  and  as  many  fleurs- 
de-lis  of  gold,  rising  from  a  rim  or  circlet,  also  of 
gold,  and  set  with  precious  stones;  and  the  cap 
within  is  made  of  purple  velvet,  lined  with  taffeta, 
and  turned  up  with  ermine. 

The  Prince  of  Wales's  Crown.  This  is  formed 
of  pure  gold,  and  is  unadorned  by  jewels.  On 
occasions  of  State  it  is  placed  before  the  seat  in 
the  House  of  Lords  which  is  occupied  by  the  heir 
apparent. 


hand  at  his  coronation,  and  is  borne  in  his  left  on 
his  return  to  Westminster  Hall,  is  a  ball,  of  gold 
six  inches  in  diameter,  encompassed  with  a  band 
or  fillet  of  gold,  embellished  with  roses  of  diamonds 
encircling  other  precious  stones,  and  edged  with 
pearls.  On  the  top  is  an  extraordinary  fine  amethyst, 
of  an  bval  shape,  nearly  an  inch  and  a  half  in  height, 
which  forms  the  foot  or  pedestal  of  a  cross  of  gold 
three  inches  and  a  quarter  high,  set  very  thick  with 
diamonds,  and  adorned  with  a  sapphire;,  an  emerald, 
and  several  large  pearls.  . 


'liPMIlll»'tM<I,l>/p|[> 


'^  ^-       WHllllll      /  i V-  ^rJ 


THE  JEWEL  ROOM   AT   THE  TOWER. 


The  Ancient  Queen's  Crown,  being  that  used  at 
coronations  for  the  queen  consort,  is  a  very  rich 
crown  of  gold,  set  with  diamonds  of  great  value, 
intermixed  with  other  precious  stones  and  pearls; 
the  cap  being  similar  to  the  preceding. 

The  Queen's  Diadem  or  Circlet  of  Gold.  This  was 
worn  by  Queen  Mary,  consort  of  James  II.,  in  pro- 
ceeding to  her  coronation.  It  is  a  rim  or  circle  of 
gold,  richly  adorned  with  large  diamonds,  curiously 
set,  and  around  the  upper  edge  a  string  of  pearls ; 
the  cap  is  of  purple  velvet,  lined  with  white  taffeta, 
and  turned  up  with  ermine,  richly  powdered.  It 
cost,  according  to  Sandford,  ;^i  i  i,ooo.     * 

The  Orb,  which  rests  in  the  sovereign's  right 


St.  Edward's  Staffs  \M.Qki  is  carried  before  the 
sovereign  at  the  coronation,  is  a  staff  or  sceptre  of 
beaten  gold,  four  feet  seven  inches  and  a  half  in 
length  and  about  three  quarters  of  an  inch  in  dia- 
meter, with  a  pike  or  foot  of  steel  four  inches  and 
a  quarter  long,  and  a  mound  and  cross  at  the  top. 

The  Kin^s  Sceptre  with  the  Cross,  or  Sceptre 
Royal,  likewise  of  gold,  is  two  feet  nine  inches  in 
length,  and  of  the  same  size  as  that  with  the  dove ; 
the  handle  is  plain,  but  the  upper  part  is  -,vreathed, 
and  the  pommel  at  the  bottom  set  with  rubies, 
emeralds,  and  small  diamonds.  On  the  top  is  a 
mound,  and  on  the  mound  is  a  cross  adorned  with 
precious  stones.     This  sceptre  is  placed  in  the 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


IThe  Tower. 


right  hand  of  the  sovereign  at  the  coronation  by 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

The  Kin^s  Sceptre  with  the  Dove  is  gold,  in 
length  three  feet  seven  inches,  and  about  three 
inches  in  circumference.  It  is  set  with  diamonds  and 
other  precious  stones,  and  upon  the  mound  at  the 
top,  which  is  enriched  with  a  band  or  fillet  of  rose 
diamonds,  is  a  small  cross,  whereon  is  fixed  a  dove 
with  wings  expanded,  as  the  emblem  of  nifercy. 

The  Queetis  Sceptre  with  the  Cross  is  also  of  gold, 
adorned  with  diamonds  and  other  precious  stones, 
and  in  most  parts  is  very  like  the  king's,  but  not 
wreathed,  nor  quite  so  large. 

The  Queen's  Ivory  Rod,  which  was  made  for 
Queen  Maiy,  consort  of  James  II.,  is  a  sceptre  of 
white  ivory  three  feet  one  inch  and  a  half  in  length, 
with  a  pommel,  mound,  and  cross  of  gold,  and  a 
dove  on  the  top. 

Besides  these  there  is  another  very  rich  and 
elegant  sceptre  with  a  dove,  which  was  discovered 
in  1814  behind  a  part  of  the  old  wainscot  of  the 
Jewel  House,  where  it  seems  to  have  lain  unob- 
served for  a  great  number  of  years.  This  nearly 
assimilates  to  the  kmg's  sceptre  with  the  dove,  and 
there  is  every  probability  that  it  was  made  for 
^  Queen  Mary,  consort  of  William  III.,  with  whom 
she  was  jointly  invested  with  the  exercise  of  the 
royal  authority. 

The  Ampulla,  or  Eagle  of  Gold,  which  contains 
the  holy  oil  at  the  ceremony  of  the  coronation,  is  in 
the  form  of  an  eagle,  with  wings' expanded,  standing 
on  a  pedestal,  all  of  pure  gold  finely  chased.  The 
head  screws  off  about  the  middle  of  the  neck,  for 
the  convenience  of  putting  in  the  oil,  which  is 
poured  cut  through  the  beak  into  a  spoon  called 
the  anointing-spoon,  which  is  likewise  of  pure  gold, 
with  four  pearls  in  the  broadest  part  of  the  handle. 
These  are  considered  to  be  of  great  antiquity. 

Curtana,  or  the  Sword  of  Mercy,  which  is  borne 
naked  before  the  king,  betwreen  the  two  swords  of 
justice,  at  the  coronation,  is  of  plain  steel,  gilded. 
The  blade  is  thirty-two  inches  in  length,  and  nearly 
two  in  breadth;  the  handle  is  covered  with  fine 
gold  wire,  and  the  jJoint  flat.  The  Swords  of  Justice 
are  the  spiritual  and  temporal,  which  are  borne, 
the  former  on  the  right  hand  and  the  latter  on 
the  left,  before  the  king  or  queen  at  their  corona- 
tion- The  point  of  the  spiritual  sword  is  somewhat 
obtuse,  but  that  of  the  temporal  sword  is  sharp. 
Their  blades  are  about  forty  inches,  long,  the  handles 
cased  with  fine  gold  wire,  and  the  scabbards  of  all 
three  are  alike,  covered  with  a  rich  brocaded  cloth 
of,  tissue,  with  a  fine  ferule,  hook,  and  chajip. 

Armilla,  or  Bracelets,  which  are  ornaments  for 
the  king's  wrist,  worn  at  coronations,  are  of  sohd 


fine  gold,  an  inch  and  a  half  in  breadth,  and  edged 
with  rows  of  pearl.  They  open  by  means  of  a 
hinge,  for  the  purpose  of  being  put  on  the  arm, 
and, are  chased  with  the  rose,  thistle,  fleur-de-lis, 
and  harp. 

The  Royal  Spurs  are  also  made  of  fine  gold, 
curiously  wrought,  and  are  carried  in  the  procession 
at  coronations  by  the  Lords  Grey  of  Ruthyn,  a 
service  which  they  claim  by  descent  from  the  family 
of  Hastings,  Earls  of  Hastings. 

The  Saltcellar  of  State,  which  is  said  to  be  a 
model  in  gold  of  the  White  Tower,  a  grand  silver 
font,  double  gilt^  generally  used  at  the  baptisms  of 
the  royal  family,  and  a  large  silver  fountain,  pre- 
sented to  Charles  II.  by  the  town  of  Plymouth,  are 
likewise  worthy  of  notice ;  and  there  is  also  de- 
posited in  the  Jewel  House  a  magnificent  service 
of  communion-plate  belonging  to  the  Tower  Chapel ; 
it  is  of  silver,  double  gilt,  superbly  wrought,  the 
principal  piece  containing  a  beautiful  representation 
of  the  Lord's  Supper. 

The  summary  of  jewels  comprised  in  the  crown 
is  as  follows  : — i  large  ruby,  irregularly  polished ; 
I  large  broad-spread  sapphire;  16  sapphires;  11 
emeralds;  4  rubies;  1,363  brilliant  diamonds; 
1,273  rose  diamonds;  147  ta.ble  diamonds;  4 
drop-shaped  pearls ;  and  2  73  pearls. 

A  curious  fact  in  connection  with  the  regalia  is 
related  by  Haydon  the  painter.  The  crown,  he 
says,  at  George  IV. 's  coronation,  "  was  not  bought, 
but  borrowed.  Rundell's  price  was  ;^7o,ooo ;  and 
Lord  Liverpool  told  the  king  he  could  not  sanction 
such  an  expenditure.  Rundell  charged  ;^7,ooo 
for  the  loan,  and  as  some  time  elapsed  before  it  was 
decided  whether  the  crown  should  be  bought  or 
not,  Rundell  charged  ;^3,ooo  or  ;^4,ooo  more  for 
the  interval." 

The  crown  jewels  have  been  exhibited  for  a  fee 
since  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  II.  They 
had  been  before  that  period  kept  sometimes  in 
the  Tower,  ia  the  treasury  of  the  Temple  or  other 
religious  house,  and  in  the  treasury  at  Westminster. 
The  royal  jewels  have  on  several  occasions  been 
pledged  to  provide  for  the  exigencies  of  our 
monarchs,  by  Henry  III.,  Edward  III.,  Henry  V., 
Henry  VI. ;  and  Richard  II.  offered  them  to  the 
merchants  of  Londoni  as  a  guarantee  for  a  loan. 
The  office  of  Keeper  of  the  Regalia,  conferred  by 
the  king's  letters  patent,  became,  in  the  reign  of 
the  Tudors,  a  post  of  great  emolument  and  dignity, 
and  "Tlie  Master  of  the  Jewel-House"  took  rank 
as  the  first  knight  bachelor  of  England ;  the  office 
was  some  time  held  by  Cromwell,  afterwards  Earl  of 
Essex.  During  the  civil  war  under  Charles  I.  the 
regalia  were  sold  and  destroyed.    On  the  restoration 


Thi!  Towev.l 


BLOOD'S   ATTEMPT   TO   STEAL  THE   REGALIA. 


of  Charles  II.  new  regalia  were  made,  for  which 
the  king's  goldsmith,  Sir  Robert  Vyner,  was  paid 
p^2i,978  9s.  I  id. 

At  the  great  fire  of  1841  the  grating  was  brqjcen 
open  and  the  jewels  removed  for  safety.  Mr.  G. 
Cruikshank  made  a  clever  drawing  of  this  scene. 

The  history  of  the  regalia  would  be  incomplete 
without  some  short  mention  of  Blood's  desperate 
and  impudent  attempt  to  steal  the  crown,  globe, 
and  sceptre,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II,  This 
villain,  Blood,  had  been  a  lieutenant  in  Cromwell's 
army,  and  had  turned  Government  spy.  He  had 
joined  in  a  plan  to  seize  Dublin  Castle  and  kill  the 
Lord  Lieutenant.  He  had  actually  stopped  the 
Duke  of  Ormond's  coach  in  Piccadilly,  carried  off 
the  duke,  and  tried  to  hang  him  at  Tyburn,  a 
plan  which  had  all  but  succeeded ;  and  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham  was  suspected  by  the  Ormond 
family  of  having  encouraged  the  attempt.  In  the 
attempt  on  the  regalia  Blood  had  four  accomplices. 
Blood,  disguised  as  a  country  parson,  in  band  and 
gown,  began  the  campaign  by  going  to  see  the 
crown  with  a  woman  who  passed  for  his  wife.  This 
woman,  while  seeing  the  jewels,  pretended  to  be 
taken  ill,  and  was  shown  into  the  private  rooms  of 
Talbot  Edwards,  the  old  Deputy  Keeper  of  the 
Crown  Jewels,  a  man  eighty  years  of  age.  Blood 
then  observed  the  loneliness  of  the  Tower,  and  the 
scanty  means  of  defence.  He  called  four  days  later 
with  a  present  of  gloves  for  Mrs.  Edwards,  and 
repeated  his  visits,  till  he  at  last  proposed  that  his 
nephew,  a  young  man,  as  he  said,  with  ;^2oo  or 
;^3oo  a  year,  should  many  the  old  man's  daughter. 
He  finally  fixed  a  day  when  the  young  bridegroom 
should  present  himself  for  approval.  On  the  ap- 
pointed day  he  arrived  at  the  outside  of  the  Iron 
Gate  with  four  companions,  all  being  on  horse- 
back. The  plan  for  action  was  fully  matured. 
Hunt,  Blood's  son-in-law,  was  to  hold  the  horses, 
and  keep  them  ready  at  St.  Catherine's  Gate. 
Parrot,  an  old  Roundhead  trooper  and  now  a 
Government  spy,  was  to  steal  the  globe  while  Blood 
carried  oif  the  crown,  and  a  third  accomplice  was 
to  file  the  sceptre  into  pieces  and  slip  them  into  a 
bag.  A  fourth  rogue  represented  the  lover.  The 
five  men  were  each  armed  with  sword-canes,  sharp 
poignards,  and  a  brace  of  pistols.  While  pretend- 
ing to  wait  for  the  arrival  of  his  wife.  Blood  asked 
Edwards  to  show  his  friends  the  jewels.  The 
moment  the  door  was  locked  inside,  according  to 
Tower  custom,  the  ruffians  muffled  and  gagged  the 
old  man,  and  then  felled  him  to  the  ground  and 
beat  him  till  he  was  nearly  dead.  Unluckily  for  the 
rascals,  young  Edwards  at  that  moment  returned 
from  Flanders,  and  ran  upstairs  to  see  where  his 


mother  and  sisters  were.  Blood  and  Parrot  made 
off  at  once  with  the  globe  and  crown.  The  sceptre 
they  could  not  break.  The  old  man  freeing  him- 
self from  the  gag,  screamed  and  roused  the  family. 
Blood  wounded  a  sentinel  and  fired  at  another,  but 
was  eventually  overpowered.  The  crown  fell  in  the, 
dirt,  a  pearl  was  picked  up  by  a  sweeper,  a  diamond, 
by  an  apprentice,  and  several  stones  were  lost. 
Parrot  was  captured  and  the  globe  found  in  his 
pocket  j  one  fine  ruby  had  broken  loose.  Hunt 
was  thrown  from  his  horse  and  taken.  But  none  of 
these  culprits  were  punished.  Blood  betrayed  pre- 
tended plots,  or  in  some  way  obtained  power  over 
the  king.  He  was  received  at  court,  and  ;^Soo  a 
year  was  given  him. 

From  the  Jewel  House  we  pass  to  the  Armouries. 
The  Armouries  in  the  Tower  were  estabUshed  by 
our  earliest  kings.-  We  find  Henry  III.  issuing  a 
mandate  to  the  Archdeacon  of  Durham  to  transmit 
to  the  arsenal  twenty-six  suits  of  annour,  five  iron 
cuirasses,  one  iron  collar,  three  pairs  of  fetters,  and 
nine  iron  helmets.  In  1339  (Edward  III.)  Johnde 
Flete,  keeper  of  the  arms  in  the  Tower,  was  com- 
manded to  bring  as  many  "espringals,  quarrells, 
hauberks,  lances,  arbalasts,  bows  and  arrows,"  as 
were  necessary  for  the  defence  of  the  Castle  of 
Southampton.  Two  years  afterwards  the  Sheriff  of 
Gloucester  was  ordered  to  purchase  and  transmit 
to  the  Tower  1,000  bows,  and  300  sheaves  of 
arrows ;  250  of  the  bows  to  be  painted,  the  rest  to 
be  white  or  plain. 

A  curious  inventory  of  Tower  armour  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  VI.  enumerates  : — "  Brigandines 
complete,  having  sleeves  covered  with  crimson; 
ditto,  with  sleeves  covered  with  cloth  of  gold ;  ditto, 
with  sleeves  covered  with  blue  satin  ;  miliars'  coats 
covered  with  fustian  and  white  cloth  ;  and  brigan- 
dines covered  with  linen  cloth  with  long  taces." 
The  inventory  also  enumerates  targets  covered 
with  steel,  and  having  pistols  in  the  centre;  a 
target  with  twenty  pistols ;  a  target  "  of  the  shell 
of  Tortys ; "  steel  horse-trappings ;  poleaxes  with 
pistols  at  the  end ;  gilt  poleaxes,  the  staves  covered 
with  crimson  velvet  and  fringed  with  silk  of  gold ; 
holy  water  sprinklers,  or  Danish  clubs,  with  spiked 
balls  fastened  to  a  chain.  Some  of  these  arms  still 
remain  in  the  Tower,  especially  a  "holy  water 
sprinkler  with  3  guns,"  which  the  warders  used  to 
call  "  King  Harry  the  Eighth's  Walking-Staff." 

In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  the  Tower  armouries 
were  described  by  Hentzner,  a  German  traveller, 
in  1598,  and  our  readers  will  see,  by  the  following 
extract,  that  many  of  the  chief  curiosities  now 
shown  were  even  then  on  view  : — 

"We  were,"  says  Hentzner,  "next  led  to  the 


82 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Tower. 


Armoury,  in  which  were  these  peculiarities.    Spears 
out  of  which  you  may  shoot ;  shields  that  will  give 
fire  four  times ;  a  great  many  rich  halberds,  com- 
monly called  partisans,  with  which  the  guard  defend 
the  royal  person  in  battle;  some  lances  covered 
with  red  and  green  velvet ;  and  the  suit  of  armour 
of  Henry  VIII. ;  many  and  very  beautiful  arms,  as 
well  for  men  as  for  horse-fights  ;  the  lance  of  Charles 
Brandon,  Duke  of  Suffolk,  three  spans  thick ;  two 
pieces  of  cannon,  the  one  fires  three,  the  other  seven 
balls  at  a  time ;  two  others,  made  of  wood,  which 
the   English  had    at  the   siege   of  Boulogne,   in 
France,  and  by  this  stratagem,  without  which  they 
could  not  have  succeeded,  they  struck  a  terror  as 
at  the  appearance  of  artillery,  and  the  town  was 
surrendered  upon  articles ;  nineteen  cannons  of  a 
thicker  make  than  ordinary,  and,  in  a  room  apart, 
thirty -six  of  a  smaller ;  other  cannons  for  chain-shot 
and  balls,  proper  to  bring  down  masts  of  ships ; 
cross-bows,  bows  and  arrows,  of  which  to  this  day 
the  English  make  great  use  in  their  exercises.     But 
who  can  relate  all  that  is  to  be  seen  here  ?    Eight 
or  nine  men,  employed  by  the  year,   are  scarce 
sufficient  to  keep  all  the  arms  bright." 

Hewitt,  in  his  account  of  the  Tower,  argues  very 
shrewdly,  from  Hentzner's  silence  about  the  spoils 
of  the  Armada  still  exhibited,  and,  in  fact,  about  the 
"  Spanish  Armoury"  altogether,  that  those  pretended 
trophies  were  nevefr  trophies  at  all.  The  Spanish 
"  coUer  of  torment "  is  an  undoubted  relic  of  the 
Armada ;  the  rest,  Mr.  Hewitt  decides,  were  taken 
from  a  collection  of  Spanish  arms,  chosen  for  their 
excellent  quality,  and, of  afar  earlier  date  than  1588. 
Hentzner  visited  England  soon  after  the  Armada. 
As  a  German  he  would  be  interested  in  all  relics 
of  the  defeated  Spanish  invasion.  He  visited  the 
Spanish  Armoury,  and  had  he  been  shown  there 
any  relics  of  Philip's  armament,  would  ,be  sure  to 
have  mentioned  it. 

The  first  mention  of  a  Spanish  weapon-house  is 
in  a  survey  of  1675,  which  enumerates  targets  with 
pistols,  Spanish  pikes,  partisans,  Spanish  boar-spears, 
Spanish  poleaxes,  and  Spanish  halberts.  Some  later 
exhibitors,  says  Mr.  Hewitt,  finding  a  room  called 
the  Spanish  Weapon-house,  immediately  set  it  down, 
with  true  showman's  instinct,  as  a  room  of  Armada 
spoils,  and  so  the  error  has  been  perpetuated. 

During  the  Commonwealth  the  Tower  collection 
of  armour  lay  in  abeyance,  but  at  the  Restoration, 
William  Legg,  Master  of  the  Armouries,  made  a 
survey  of  the  stores,  and  in  it  enumerates  Brandon's 
huge  lance,  the  Spanish  collar  of  torture,  and  the 
ancient  head-piece  with  rams'-homs  and  spectacles 
still  named  after  William  Somers,  the  Jester  of 
Henry  VIIL    Some  of  the  suits  are  noted  as 


having  come  from  the  Green  Gallery,  at  Green- 
wich. These  last  included  both  suits  of  Prince 
Henry  and  suits  of  Henry  V.,  Henry  VIIL,  Ed- 
ward III.,  Edward  IV.,  Henry  VI.,  the  Earl  of 
Leicester,  and  Charles  Brandon.  There  is  also 
mentioned  a  gilt  and  graven  suit  for  "his  late 
majesty,  of  ever  blessed  memory,  Charles  I. ;"  a 
suit  of  Charles  II.,  when  a  boy ;  and  a  suit  sent  to 
Charles  II.  by  the  Great  Mogul. 

On  the  Restoration,  says  Meyrick,  the  armour 
which  had  been  formerly  in  the  Green  Gallery  at 
Greenwich,  placed  on  horseback  and  dignified  with 
the  name  of  some  of  our  kings,  gave  the  hint  for 
an  exhibition  at  the  Tower  of  the  same  sort.  •  The 
Tudors  and  Stuarts  were  added;  and  in  1686,  the 
year  after  the  death  of  Charles  II.,  his  fi.gure  and 
that  of  his  father  were  added,  their  horses  and  faces 
carved  by  Grinling  Gibbons. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century 
armour  fell  into  disuse,  and  was  sent  by  various 
regiments  to  the  Tower  stores.  A  survey  in  1697 
enumerates  thousands  of  back  and  breast  pieces, 
pots,  and  head-pieces.  The  equestrian  figures,  when 
fitted  out  from  these  and  from  various  gifts,  in- 
creased from  ten  to  twenty-seven. 

Among  the  confused  suits  Meyrick  found  both 
William  the  Conqueror  and  William  III.  clad  in 
plate  armour  of  the  age  of  Edward  VI.  The  suit 
of  Henry  V.  was  composed  from  parts  of  three 
others,  of  which  the  upper  portion  was  of  the  time 
of  Charles  I.,  while  the  legs— which  were  not 
fellows  !— were  of  the  age  of  Henry  VII.  Henry 
VIIL  also  had  the  misfortune  to  have  odd  legs. 
George  I.  and  George  II.  were  armed  eap.d-J>ie  in 
suits  of  Henry  VIIL's  time,  and  mounted  on 
Turkish  saddles,  gilt  and  ornamented  with  the  globe, 
crescent,  and  star.  John  of  Gaunt  was  a  knight  of 
Henry  VIIL's  reign,  and  De  Courcy  a  demi-lancer 
of  Edward  VI.'s.  The  helmet  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
was  of  the  period  of  Edward  VL  ;  the  armour  for 
her  arms,  of  that  of  Charles  I. ;  her  breastplate  went 
as  far  back  as  Henry  VIIL  ;  and  the  garde  de  reins 
of  that  monarch  covered  Her  Majesty's  "  abdomen." 
A  big  suit  of  Henry  VIIL,  rough  from  the  hammer, 
had  first  been  described  by  the  warders  as  "made 
for  the  king  at  the  age  of  eighteen,"  and  then  "as 
much  too  small  for  him." 

The  absurd  inventions  of  the  Tower  warders 
were  endless.  A  "  Guide  to  the  Tower  of  London 
and  Its  Cunosities"  (says  Mr.  Planchd),  published 
m  the  reign  of  George  IIL,  mentions  a  breast- 
plate desperately  damaged  by  shot,  which  was 
shown  as  having  been  worn  by  a  man,  part  of 
whose  body,  including  some  of  the  intestines,  was 
earned  away  by  a  cannon-baU,   notwithstanding 


The  Tower.] 


THE    ARMOURY. 


^3 


which,  being  put  under  the  care  of  a  skilful  surgeon, 
the  man  recovered,  and  lived  for  ten  years  after- 
wards. "This  story,"  adds  the  Guide,  "the  old 
warder  constantly  told  to  all  strangers,  till  H.R.H. 
Prince  Frederick,  father  of  the  present  king,  being 
told  the  accustomed  tale,  said,  with  a  smile,  '  And 
what,  friend,  is  there  so  extraordinary  in  all  this  ? 
I  remember  myself  to  have  read  in  a  book  of  a 
soldier  who  had  his  head  cleft  in  two  so  dextrously 
by  the  stroke  of  a  scimitar,  that  one'  half  of  it  fell 
on  one  shoulder,  and  the  other  half  of  it  on  the 
other  shoulder ;  and  yet,  on  his  comrade's  clapping 
the  two  sides  nicely  together  again,  and  binding 
them  close  with  his  handkerchief,  the  man  did  well, 
drank  his  pot  of  ale  at  night,  and  scarcely  recol- 
lected that  he  had  ever  been  hurt."  The  writer 
goes  on  to  say  that  the  old  warder  was  "  so  dashed," 
that  he  never  had  the  courage  to  tell  his  story 
again;  but,  though  he  might  not,  it  was  handed 
down  by  his  successors,  by  several  of  whom,  Mr. 
Planchd  says,  he  heard  it  repeated  in  his  boyhood, 
fifty  years  after  the  death  of  Frederick  Prince  of 
Wales.  The  old  battered  breastplate  is  still  in  the 
collection,  and  has  not  been  "sold  as  old  iron," 
being  thoroughly  unworthy  of  preservation. 

In  the  year  1825  Dr,  (afterwards  Sir)  Samuel 
Rush  Meyrick  received  the  royal  commands  to 
re-arrange  the  Horse  and  Spanish  Armouries,  a 
task  for  which  that  antiquary's  taste  and  knowledge 
eminently  qualified  him.  This  task  he  executed, 
but,  unfortunately!  was  compelled  by  ignorant 
officials  to  appropriate  eveiy  suit  (right  or  wrong) 
to  some  great  personage  of  the  period,  distin- 
guishing the  few  that  could  actually  be  identified 
by  stars  on  the  flags  above  them.  The  storekeeper 
then  resumed  his  care,  and  everything  went  wrong : 
forgeries  were  bought  and  carefully  preserved  under 
glass,  and  valuable  pieces  of  armour,  which  had 
been  actually  stolen  or  sold  from  the  amioury, 
were  often  offered  for  sale  to  the  authorities  and 
rejected  by  them.  In  1859,  Mr.  Planch^,  an  emi- 
nent authority  on  armour,  drew  the  attention  of  the 
Right  Hon.  Sidney  Herbert  to  the  confusion  of  the 
whole  collection,  and  to  the  fact  that  the  armoury 
produced  an  annual  revenue  of  ^^zjooo  and  odd, 
being,  therefore,  self-supporting.  'The  same  public- 
spirited  gentleman  also  pointed  out  that  the  Horse 
Armoury  admitted  the  rain,  and  had  an  inflammable 
wooden  shed  at  one  end.  In  1869,  to  the  great 
satisfaction  of  all  true  antiquaries,  Mr.  Planch^  was 
commissioned  to  arrange  the  armour  in  the  Tower 
in  strict  chronological  order.  In  his  "Recollec- 
tions and  Reflections,"  he  suggests  that  a  fine 
gallery  could  be  made  out  of  the  row  of  carpenters' 
shops  on  the  east  side  of  the  White  Tower. 


The  negligence  of  the  Government  led,  Mr. 
Planchd  says,  in  his  own  time,  to  many  blunders. 
One  of  the  bargains  missed  by  the  Keeper  of  the 
Armouries,  was  the  complete  suit  in  which  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Zutphen,  the  em- 
bossed figures  on  which  were  of  solid  gold.  This 
national  and  magnificeint  relic  was  at  Strawberry 
Hill,  and  is  now  at  St.  Petersburg.  Anotha-  rehc 
lost  to  the  Tower  was  a  heaume  of  thte  time  of 
King  John,  now  at  Warwick  Castle.  A  third  was 
the  gauntlets  of  a  fine  suit  made  for  Henry  VIII., 
now  in  the  Tower,  imperfect  from  their  absence. 
They  had  found  their  way  out  of  the  Tower,  and, 
on  being  brought  back  to  it,  were  ignored  and  re- 
fused by  the  authorities,  and  are  now  at  Grimston.  ■ 
A  fourth  was  a  most  singular  quaint  helmet,  pro- 
bably as  early  as  the  time  of  SteJ)hen,  if  not 
actually  the  helmet  of  that  monarch,  or  of  his  son, 
now  in  the  Musde  d'Artillerie  at  Paris.  Two  other 
helmets,  one  temp.  Henry  III.,  the  other  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  with  part  of  the  crest  remaining, 
were  also  rejected.  At  the  very  same  time  a  helmet 
newly  made  at  Vienna,  for  theatrical  purposes,  was 
purchased  at  the  price  of  ^^50,  and  is  now  in  one 
of  the  glass  cases  at  the  Tower.  The  only  armour 
at  Alton  Towers  that  could  possibly  have  belonged 
to  the  gi-eat  Talbot  was  suffered  by  some  gentleman 
sent  down  by  the  Tower  to  pass  into  the  hands  of 
dealers.  The  back-plate,  a  most  elegant  specimen, 
sold  for  ;^io,  and  is  now  in  the  collection  of  Lord 
Londesborough,  at  Grimston. 

The  present  Horse  Armoury,  at  the  south-west 
comer  of  the  White  Tower,  was  completed  in  1826, 
when  Meyrick  re-arranged  the  collection.  This  is 
a  single  apartment,  about  150  feet  long  by  34  wide. 
A  row  of  pillars  supporting  pointed  arche-s  runs  the 
whole  length  of  the  interior.  The  space  in  front  of 
the  columns  is  occupied  by  figures,  some  equestrian 
and  some  on  foot,  clothed  in  armour  from  the  reign 
of  Henry  VI.  to  that  of  James  II.  Several  military 
trophies  and  emblems  adorn  the  walls  and  ceilings 
of  the  apartment,  and  the  space  devoted  to  the 
armed  figures  is  divided  into  several  compartments 
by  stands  containing  weapons  of  the  various  periods. 

The  visitor  can  pass  here  from  the  simple  mail 
of  early  days  to  the  engraved  and  ornamented 
armour  of  Ehzabeth's  reign. 

The  Crusaders  of  Henry  III.'s  reign  brought 
chain-mail  from  the  East.  Mixed  plate  and  chain 
suits  were  introduced  in  the  reign  of  Edward  II. 
In  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  the  visors  were  peaked, 
and  projected  from  the  face  like  birds'  beaks. 
With  Henry  IV.  armour  became  all  pkte,  and 
the  steel  monster  was  now  fully  hatched.  With 
Henry  V.  came  two-handed  swords,  to  hew  to 


84 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Tower. 


pieces  the  said  armour.  ,'In  Edward  IV.'s  days 
came  all  sorts  of  novelties  in  armour — tuilles  to 
cover  the  hips,  pauldrons  for  the  shoulders,  grande- 
gardes,  or  extra  half-breastplates,  to  cover  the  left 
breast.  In  the  time  of  Richard  III.,  say  most 
authorities,  armour  attained  its  highest  perfection 


The  Henry  VIII.  suit,  the  first  suit  in  the  col- 
lection, really  belonged  to  the  king  whose  effigy  it 
covers.  The  armour  is  damasked,  and  the  stimjps 
are  curious,  from  their  great  size.  But  one  of  the 
finest  suits  in  the  world,  and  belonging  to  this  same 
burly  king,  is  in  the  central  recess  of  the  south  wall 


THE  TOWER  HORSE  ARMOURY, 


of  form  and  arrangement.  The  shoes  have  long, 
pointed  toes.  The  Richard  III.  suit  at  the  Tower 
was  brought  from  Spain,  and  was  worn  by  the 
Marquis  of  Waterford  at  the  fantastic  Eglinton 
Tournament. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.  came  in  the  beautiful 
German  fluted  armour.  The  helmets  worn  were 
the  round  Burgundian,  and  the  shoes  were  round 
and  large  at  the  toes.  The  horse-armour,  too  is 
splendid. 


"  This,"  says  Hawitt,  "  is  one  of  the  most  curious 
suits  of  armour  in  the  world,  having  been  made  to 
commemorate  the  union  of  Henry  VIII.  and 
Katherine  of  Arragon.  The  badges  of  this  king 
and  queen,  the  rose  and  pomegranate,  are  engraved 
on  various  parts  of  the  armour.  On  the  fans  of  the 
genouilleres  is  the  sheaf  of  arrows,  the  device 
adopted  by  Ferdinand,  the  father  of  Katherine,  on 
his  conquest  of  Granada.  Henry's  badges,  the 
portcullis,  the  fleuir-de-lis,  and ,  the  red  dragon,  also 


The  Tower.] 


A  SPLENDID   SUIT  OF  ARMOUR. 


8S 


appear ;  and  on  the  edge  of  the  lamboys,  or  skirts, 
are  the  initials  of  the  royal  pair,  '  H.  K.,'  united  by 
a  true  lovers'  knot.  The  same  letters,  similarly 
united  by  a  knot,  which  includes  also  a  curious 
love-badge,  formed  of  a  half  rose  and  half  pome- 
granate, are  engraved  on  the  croupiere  of  the 
horse. 

"  But  the  most  remarkable  part  of  the  embellish- 
ment of  this  suit  consists  in  the  saintly  legends 
which  are  engraved  upon  it.     These  consist  of  ten 


beneath  which  a  fire  is  blazing,  to  boil  the  oil 
within;  a  female  saint  suffering  decapitation;  while 
in  the  background  is  predicted  the  retribution  that 
awaits  the  persecutor ;  another  saint  about  to  suffer 
decapitation ;  St.  Agatha  led  to  be  scourged ;  and 
St.  Agatha  being  built  up  in  prison. 

"  Round  the  lower  edge  of  the  horse-armour, 
many  times  repeated,  is  the  motto,  '  Dieu  et  mon 
Droit,'  while  numerous  other  decorations — human 
figures,    heraldic  badges,    arabesque    work,   and 


THE  TOWER   MENAGERIE  ABOUT    182O. 


subjects,  full  of  curious  costume,  and  indicating 
curious  manners. 

"  On  the  breastplate  is  the  figure  of  St.  George 
on  foot,  encountering  the  dragon.  On  the  back- 
plate  appears  St.  Barbara,  with  her  usual  emblems. 
On  the  front  of  the  poitrail  St.  George,  on  horse- 
back, is  dispatching  the  dragon;  the  armour  of 
his  horse  is  embellished  with  the  rose  and  pome- 
granate. Also,  on  the  poitrail,  St.  George  accused 
before  Diocletian ;  and  another  subject,  repre- 
senting some  lady  of  rank,  attended  by  her  maids, 
directing  the  fortifications  of  a  town  or  fortress- 
On  the  croupifere,  St.  George,  stretched  on  the  rack ; 
a  saint  receiving  martyrdom,  by  being  enclosed  as 
high  as  the  waist  in  the  brazen  figure  of  an  ox, 


grotesque  devices  of  fabulous  and  other  animals — 
are  continued  over  the  whole  suit,  both  of  man 
and  horse.  Among  these  engravings  is  one  of  a 
female  figure,  bearing  on  the  front  of  her  bodice 
the  German  word  'Gliick'  (good  luck,  health, 
prosperity).  From  this,  it  has  been  suggested  by 
Sir  S.  Meyrick,  we  may  infer  that  the  suit  before 
us  was  presented  by  the  Emperor  Maximilian  to 
Henry,  in  honour  of  his  marriage  with  Katherine 
of  Arragon.  We  own  this  inference  seems  rather  a 
bold  one. 

• "  The  armour  is  doubtless  of  German  manu- 
facture, and  one  of  the  finest  of  the  period.  It 
was  formerly  gilt,  and  when  new  must  have  had  a 
most  gorgeous  appearance.     From  its  discoloration 


86 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Tower. 


by  time,  the  elaborate  decorations  of  its  surface  are 
almost  entirely  lost,  but  might  easily  be  restored 
by  a  judicious  renewal  of  the  gilding." 

"  We  find  another  splendid  suit  of  armour,  of 
the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  It  is  of  the  kind  called 
russet,  which  was  produced  by  oxidising  the  metal, 
and  then  smoothing  its  surface.  By  this  means 
the  gold-work  with  which  it  was  afterwards  damas- 
quined  looked  much  richer  than  if  inlaid  on  a 
ground  of  polished  steel  (or  white  armour,  as  it 
was  technically  called).  The  suit  before  us  is 
covered  with  the  most  beautiful  filagree-work.  The 
helmet  especially  is  most  elaborately  ornamented ; 
embossed  lions'  heads  adorn  the  pauldrons,  elbow- 
pieces,,  gauntlets,  breastplate,  genouill^res,  and  sol- 
lerets ;  and  the  whole  is  in  the  finest  preservation. 
The  helmet,  which  is  a  burgonet,  is  also  embellished 
with  a  lion's  head.  In  the  right  hand  is  a  mace, 
terminating  in  a  spear.  This  figure  was  formerly 
exhibited  as  Edward  the  Black  Prince. 

"The  horse-armour,  which  is  a  complete  suit, 
is  embossed  and  embellished  with  the  combined 
badges  of  Burgundy  and  Granada.  The  proba- 
bilities are  that  it  belonged  to  Philip  of  Flanders, 
sumamed  '  the  Fair.'  He  was  the  son  of  the  Em- 
peror Maximilian,  by  Mary,  daughter  and  heiress 
of  Charles  the  Bold,  last  Sovereign-Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy, and  consequently,  in  right  of  his  mother, 
Duke  of  Burgundy  and  Count  of  Flanders.  He 
married  Joanna,  second  daughter  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  and  sister  of  Kathennc  of  Arragon,  queen 
of  Henry  VIII.  '     • 

"The  badge  of  the  pomegranate  was  borne  by 
all  the  children  of  Isabella  and  Ferdinand  the 
conqueror  of  Granada.  Philip  and  Joanna,  on  the 
death  of- Isabella,  in  1504,  became  sovereigns  of 
Castile  and  Arragon,  and  in  1506,  on  a  voyage  to 
Spain,  were  obliged  by  a  violent  tempest  to  take 
shelter  in  England,  where  they  were  detained  up- 
wards of  three  inonths  in  a  sort  of  honourable 
captivity  by  Henry  VII.  The  armour  might  have 
been  left  behind,  in  England,  on  the  departure  of 
the  royal  travellers,  or  presented  by  Piilip  to 
Henry." 

■  The  tilting-suit  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester  is  still 

■  shown.  "That  the  armour  before  us  was  worn 
by  Leicester,"  says  Mr.  Hewitt,  "there  is  not 
the  slightest  doubt.  His  initials,  '  R.  D.,'  are  en- 
graved on  the  genouillbres.  His  cognizance  of  the 
bear  and  ragged  staff  appears  on  the  chanfi-on  of 
the  horse,  encircled  by  the  collar  of  the  Gartet ;  and 
the  ragged  staflF  is  repeated  on  every  part  of  the 
suit  The  suit  was  originally  gilt,  and  '  was  kept,' 
says  Sir  S.  Meyrick,  'in  the  tilt-yard,  where  it 
was  exhibited  on  particular  days.'    It  afterwards 


figured  in  the  old  horse  armoury  as  that  of  King 
James  I." 

The  suit  of  Sir  Henry  Lea,  champion  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  was  formerly  exhibited  as  that  of  William 
the  Conqueror.  The  fine  engraved  and  gilt  suit 
of  the  Earl  of  Essex  (1581)  was  worn  by  the 
king's  champion  at  the  coronation  of  George  II. 
The  figure  of  James  I.  was  formerly  shown  as 
Henry  IV.  The  suit  of  Charles  I.  was  given  him 
by  the  Armourers'  Company.  It  is  richly  gilt  and 
arabesqued.  The  suit  is  specially  interesting  as 
being  the  identical  one  laid  on  the  coffin  of  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough  at  his  public  funeral.  The 
head  of  the  effigy  of  James  II.  is  one  carved  by 
Grinling  Gibbons  as  a  portrait  of  Charles  II. 

The  suit  long  called  John  of  Gaunt's  turned  out  to 
be  an  engraved  suit  for  a  man-at-arms  of  the  reign 
of  Henry  VIII.,  and  the  Norman  Crusader  to  have 
come  from  the  Mogul  country.  There  is  a  fine 
suit  of  Italian  armour  here,  date  1620,  once  worn 
by  Count  Oddi,  of  Padua.  It  is  ornamented  with 
the  imperial  eagle,  the  badge  of  his  house.  The 
devices,  formed  of  swords,  pistols,  and  bayonets, 
'are  very  ingenious.  The  large  pavois  shield  {temp. 
James  I.)  should  be  noticed.  The  russet  and  gold 
armour  is  Venetian,  of  the  sixteenth  century;  and 
the  six  pieces  of  a  puffed  and  engraved  suit  of  the 
fime  of  Henry  VIII.  are  extremely  curious  and  rare. 
The  ancient  German  saddle  of  bone  inlaid  with 
figures  is  of  uncertain  date.    The  inscription  is — 

"  I  hope  the  best  to  you  may  happen  ; 
May  God  help  you  well  in  Saint  George's  name.'' 

The  fantastic  helmet  with  horns,  made  for 
mock  tournaments,  is  said  to  have  belonged  to 
Henry  VIII.'s  jester.  The  crossbows  are  of  all 
ages.  Firearms  can  here  be  traced,  from  the 
earliest  hand-gun  of  1430.  One  flint-lock  rifle,  of 
Austrian  make  (1750),  could  be  fired  eighteen  times 
in  a  minute.  Here  we  see  the  steel  mace  combined 
with  the.  pistol  (temp.  Edward  VI.).  The  padded  ■ 
Chinese  armour,  too,  is  curious;  and  there  is  a 
curious  suit  of  the  Great  Mogul,  sent  to  Charles  II., 
made  partly  of  plates  and  partly  of  small  iron  tubes 
bound  in  rows.  The  Elizabethan  Armoury  con- 
tain's  a  goodly  store  of  glaives,  black-bills,  Lochaber 
axes,  and  boar-spears.  The  great  curiosity  here  is 
the  block  on  which  Lords  Balmerino,  Kilmarnock, 
and  Lovat  laid  down  their  heads ;  the  old  heading- 
axe  (said  to  have  taken  off  the  head  of  Essex) ;  the 
iron  torture-cravat,  called  in  the  Tower,  «'  Skeffing- 
ton's  Daughter,"  from  the  name  of  the  inventor ;  the 
bilboes ;  the  thumbscrews ;  the  Spanish  collar  of 
torture,  firom  the  Armada  j  two  yew-bows,  from  the 
wreck  of  the  Mary  Rose,  sunk  off  Spithead  in  fhe 


The  Tower.] 


ANCIENT  WHITWORTHS  AND  ARMSTRONGS. 


87 


reign  of  Henry  VIII. ;  and  a  breech-loading  match- 
lock petronel,  that  belonged  to  Henry  VIII.  The 
relics  of  Tippoo  Sahib  have  also  a  special  interest. 

The  grand  storehouse  for  the  royal  train  of 
artillery,  and  the  small-arms  armoury  for  150,000 
stand  of  arms,  destroyed  by  fire  October  30,  1841, 
was  built  in  the  reign  of  James  II.  or  William  III., 
since  which  the  Tower  has  been  remodelled,  many 
small  .dwelling-houses  cleared  away,  and  several 
towers  and  defences  rebuilt.  The  houses  of  Petty 
Wales  and  the  outworks  have  been  removed,  as  well 
as  the  menagerie  buildings  near  the  west  entrance. 
In  the  great  fire  of  1841  only  4,000  stand  of  arms 
were  saved  out  of  about  100,600,  and  the  loss  was 
computed  at  about  ;^2So,ooo.  But  for  the  height 
of  the  tide  and  the  fulness  of  the  ditch,  the  whole 
Tower  would  have  been  destroyed.  In  1830  the 
store  of  arms  in  the  Tower  had  amounted  to 
600,000.  Among  the  curiosities  destroyed  was  one 
of  the  state  swords  carried  before  the  Pretender 
when  he  was  proclaimed  in  Scotland,  in  1715,  and 
a  curious  wooden  gun. 

The  Crain  Room  contained  some  interesting 
naval  relics;  among  others,  the  steering-wheel  of 
Lord  Nelson's  Victory,  trophies  of  William  III. 
and  General  Wolfe,  and  rehcs  of  Waterloo.  The 
earliest  guns  were  of  the  reigns  of  Henry  VI. 
and  Edward  IV. — hooped  guns,  with  movable 
chambers.  There  was  also  a  great  treasure  which 
fortunately  escaped  the  fire — a  large  iron  chamber- 
gun,  recovered  from  the  wreck  of  the  Mary  Rose 
(Henry  VIII.).  The  Great  Harry,  which  is  of 
brass,  weighs  five  tons  (temp.  Henry  VIII.).  It 
has  the  date  1542,  and  the  Enghsh  rose  engraved 
upon  it  is  surmounted  by  the  crown  of  France. 
There  were  guns,  too,  from  Ramillies,  and  relics  of 
the  Royal  George.  One  old  brass  German  gun, 
date  1581,  had  the  spirited  motto — 

"  I  sing  and  spring, 
My  foe  transfixing." 

One  of  the  finest  guns  preserved  was  a  brass  gun 
taken  from  the  French.  It  had  formerly  belonged 
to  the  Knights  of  Malta.  The  date  is  1773.  It  is 
covered  with  exquisite  figures  in  alto-reUevo.  In 
one  part  is  a  medallion  portrait  of  the  artist,  Philip 
Lattarellus,  and  in  another  the  portrait  of  the  Grand 
Master  of  Malta,  supported  by  two  genii.  The 
carriage  also  is  very  curious ;  its  trails  are  formed 
of  the  intertwined  figures  of  two  furies  holding 
torches,  and  grasping  a  huge  snake.  The  centre 
of  the  wheel  represents  the  sun,  the  spokes  forming 
its  rays.  There  was  also  saved  a  small  brass  gun, 
presented  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  the  son  of 
Queen  Anne. 
In  other  parts  of  the  Armoury  are  ancient  British 


flint  axes,  Saxon  weapons,  a  suit  of  Greek  armour, 
found  in  a  tomb  at  Cumae ;  kettle-drums  from  Blen- 
heim ;  the  cloak  in  which  General  Wolfe  died ;  the 
sword-sash  of  that  eminent  but  unappreciated  hero, 
the  Duke  of  York ;  Saracenic,  Indian,  Moorish, 
New  Zealand,  and  KafFrarian  arms,  and  even  a 
door-mat  suit  from  the  South  Seas.  In  1854, 
2,000  stand  of  Russian  arms,  taken  at  Bomarsund, 
the  first  trophies  of  a  useless  and  unlucky  war,  were 
placed  in  the  Tower.  Those  two  rude  wooden 
figures  on  the  staircase,  called  "Beer  and  Gin," 
formerly  stood  over  the  buttery  of  the  old  palace 
at  Greenwich.  There  are  also  ten  small  brass 
cannon  to  be  seen,  presented  by  the  brass-founders 
of  London  to  Charles  II.  when  a  boy.  Hatton, 
in  1708,  mentions  among  the "  curiosities  of  the 
Tower  the  sword  which  Lord  Kingsale  took  from 
an  officer  of  the  French  body-guard,  for  which 
deed  he  and  his  posterity  have  the  right  of  remain- 
ing covered  in  the  king's  presence. 

From  the  above  account  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
Tower  contains  as  many  interesting  historical  relics 
as  any  museum  in  England.  Here  the  intelligent 
visitor  can  ti'ace  the  progress  of  weapons  from  the 
rude  flint  axe  of  the  early  Briton  to  the  latest  rifle 
that  science  has  invented.  Here  he  can  see  all 
the  changes  of  armour,  from  the  rude  suits  worn 
at  Hastings  to  the  time  when  the  Italians  turned 
the  coat  of  steel  into  a  work  of  the  finest  art,  and 
lavished  upon  it  years  of  anxious  and  refined 
labour.  There  are  breastplates  in  the  Tower  on 
which  Montfort's  spear  has  splintered,  and  cui- 
rasses on  which  English  swords  struck  fire  at 
Waterloo.  There  are  trophies  of  all  our  wars,  from 
Cressy  and  Poictiers  to  Blenheim  and  Inkermann, 
spoils  of  the  Armada,  relics  of  the  early  Crusade 
wars,  muskets  that  were  discharged  at  Minden, 
swords  of  Marlborough's  troopers,  shields  carried 
at  Agincourt,  suits  of  steel  that  EUzabeth's  cham- 
pions wore  at  Cadiz,  flags  that  have  been  scorched 
by  Napoleon's  powder,  blades  that  have  shared  in 
struggles  with  Dane  and  Indian,  Spaniard  and 
Russian.  Thanks  to  Mr.  Planche,  the  Tower 
Armoury  can  now  be  studied  in  sequence,  and  with 
intellectual  advantage.  The  blunders  of  former 
days  have  been  rectified,  and  order  once  more  pre- 
vails, where  formerly  all  was  confusion  and  jumble. 
Thanks  to  the  imperishability  of  steel,  the  old  war- 
costumes  of  England  remain  for  us  to  study,  and 
with  the  smallest  imagination  one  can  see  Harry  of 
Monmouth,  in  the  very  arms  he  wore,  ride  forth 
against  the  French  spears,  all  blazoned  with 
heraldic  splendour,  and,  shouting  "God  and  St. 
George  for  merry  England,"  scatter  the  French,  as 
he  did  when  he  won  his  crowning  victory. 


88 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[The  Tower. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE     TOWER   (continued.). 

The  Tower  of  London  Officials— Locking-up  the  Tower— The  Tower  Menagerie— The  Moat— The  Church  of  St.  Peter  ad  Vincula— Early 
Sufferers  for  State  Errors— Gerald  Fitzgerald— Fisher— Lord  Seymour  of  Dudley — The  Protector  Somerset— The  Earl  of  Essex— Sir 
Thomas  Overbury— Anne  Boleyn— The  Monuments  in  St.  Peter  ad  Vincula— A  Blood-stained  Spot— Historical  Treasure  Trove— The 
Waterloo  Barracks— The  Royal  Mint — Nooks  and  Comers  of  the  Tower— Its  Terrible  Cells— The  Tower  Ghost. 

The  Constable  of  the  Tower  was  anciently  called 
•'  the  Constable  of  London,"  "the  Constable  of  the 
Sea,"  and  "the  Constable  of  the  Honour  of  the 
Tower."  William  I.  chose  as  the  first  Constable  of 
his  new  fortress  Geoifrey  de  Mandeville,  who  had 
fought  well  at  Hastings.  The  Constable  temp. 
Edward  II.  received  a  dole  of  twopence  from 
each  person  going  and  returning  by  the  Thames 
on  a  pilgrimage  to  St.  James  of  Compostella.  In 
the  reign  of  Richard  II.  he  received  y^ioo  a  year, 
with  fees  from  prisoners  for  the  "  suite  of  his  irons" 
-^for  a  duke,  ;^2o;  for  an  earl,  twenty  marks; 
for  a  baron,  .^^lo;  for  a  knight,  loo  shillings. 
Later,  he  had  wine-tolls,  which  were  taken  from 
passing  ships  by  his  officers.  Taylor  the  Water- 
poet  farmed  this  office,  and  naively  confesses  that 
he  could  make  no  profit  of  it  till  he  cheated.  The 
Constable's  salary  is  at  present  about  ;^r,ooo 
a  year.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  was  Constable 
from  1820  till  his  death,  in  1852,  and  he  was  suc- 
ceeded by  that  brave  old  veteran.  Viscount  Com- 
bermere.  The  Lieutenant,  of  the  Tower  ranks  next 
CO  the  Constable,  but  the  duties  of  his  office  are 
performed  by  the  Deputy- Lieutenant  and  the 
Tower  Major.  The  warders'  old  dress  was  ob- 
tained for  them  by  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  after  his 
.  release  from  prison  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI. 

There  are  two  officers,  says  Bayley,  who  are 
now  joined  in  the  command  and  custody  of  the 
Tower,  with  the  denomination  of  Deputy^Lieu- 
tenant  and  Major,  both  of  whom  are  appointed  by 
commission  from  the  Crown,  though  the  patronage 
is  virtually  in  the  Constable,  who  exercises  the 
power  of  recommending.  These  officers,  however, 
are  of  very  modern  date,  having  both  sprung  up  in 
the  course  of  the  last  century.  The  earliest  mention 
we  find  of  a  Deputy-Lieutenant  is  in  the  time  of 
Queen  Anne,  and  that  of  a  Major  not  till  many 
years  afterwards.  The  civil  establishment  of  the 
Tower  also  consists  of  a  chaplain,  whose  appoint- 
ment is  in  the  king  exclusively;  the  chief  porter, 
now  called  the  gentleman-porter,  who  has  his  office 
by  letters  patent,  at  the  recommendation  of  the 
Constable ;  a  physician  and  a  surgeon,  who  are 
appointed  by  his  Majesty's  Commission,  at  the 
recommendation  of  the  Constable ;  an  apothecary, 
who  holds  his  place  by  warr9,nt  from  the  Constable ; 


the  gentleman-gaoler,  the  yeoman-porter,  and  forty 
yeoman-warders,  all  of  whom  also  have  their  places 
by  warrant  of  the  Constable. 

Locking-up   the   Tower  is  an   ancient,  curious, 
and  stately  ceremony.     A  few  minutes  before  the 
clock  strikes  the  hour  of  eleven— on  Tuesdays  and 
Fridays,  twelve — the  head  warder  (yeoman-porter), 
clothed  in  a  long  red  cloak,  bearing  a  huge  bunch 
I  of  keys,  and  attended  by  a  brother  warder  carrying 
a  lantern,  appears  in  front  of  the  main  guardhouse, 
and  loudly  calls  out,  "  Escort   keys !"     The  ser- 
geant of  the  guard,  with  five  or  six  men,  then  turns 
out  and  follows  him  to  the  "  Spur,"  or  outer  gate, 
each    sentry  challenging  as   they  pass   his   post, 
"  Who  goes  there  ?  "     "  Keys."    The  ga^s  being 
carefully  locked  and  barred,  the  procession  returns, 
the  sentries    exacting   the  same   explanation,  and 
receiving  the   same   answer   as   before.      Arrived 
once  more  in  front  of  the  main  guardhouse,  the 
sentry  there  gives  a  loud  stamp  with  his  foot,  and 
asks,    "Who   goes   there?"      "Keys.**      "Whose 
keys?"      "Queen  Victoria's  keys."      "Advance, 
Queen  Victoria's  keys,  and  all's  well."  The  yeoman- 
porter  then  exclaims,    "God    bless   Queen  Vic- 
toria!"   The  main  guard  respond,  "  Amen  ! "  The 
officer  on  duty  gives  the  word,  "  Present  arms  ! " 
The  firelocks  rattle,  the  officer  kisses  the  hilt  of  his 
sword,  the  escort  fall  in  among  their  companions, 
and  the  yeoman-porter  marches  across  the  parade 
alone,  to  deposit  the    keys    in   the  Lieutenant's 
lodgings.      The   ceremony   over,    not  only  is  all 
egress  and   ingress  totally  precluded,    but   even 
within  the  walls  no  one  can  stir  without  being  fur-, 
nished  with  the  countersign. 

The  Tower  has  a  separate  coroner,  and  the 
public  have  access  to  the  fortress  only  by  suffer- 
ance. When  Horwood  made  his  survey  of  London, 
1799)  he  was  denied  admission  to  the  Tower, 
and  the  refusal  is  thus  recorded  upon  the  map: 
"  The  Tower ;  the  internal  parts  not  distinguished, 
being  refused  peimission  to  take  the  survey."  The 
Tower  is  extra-parochial;  and  in  1851  the  popula- 
tion was  882,  and  the  military  in  barracks  606. 

Nor  must  we  forget  the  now  extinct  menagerie  in 
the  Tower.  The  first  royal  menagerie  in  England 
was  at  Woodstock,  where  Henry  I.  kept  some  lions 
and  leopards  to  amuse  his  ladies  and  courtiers. 


The  fower.j 


THE  TOWER  LlONS. 


^9 


Henry  III.  having  three  leopards  sent  him  by  the 
Emperor  Frederick  II.,  moved  his  wild  beasts  to 
the  Tower,  and  thus  commenced  the  menagerie 
which  existed  there  till  1834.  Among  the  national 
records  many  orders  exist  to  the  sheriffs  of  London, 
Bedfordshire,  and  Buckinghamshire  to  provide  for 
the  animals  and  .their  keepers.  Thus  in  1252 
(Henry  III.)  the  London  sheriffs  were  ordered  to 
payfourpence  a  day  for  the  maintenance  of  a  white 
bear,  and  to  provide  a  muzzle  and  chain  to  hold 
him  while  fishing  or  washing  himself  in  the  river 
Thames.  In  1255  (same  reign)  they  are  again  de- 
sired to  build  a  house  in  the  Tower  for  an  elephant, 
sent  to  the  king  by  Louis  of  France  (the  first  ever 
seen  in  England  since  the  Roman  period).  In  the 
reigns  of  EdwardL,  Edward  II.,  and  Edward  III., 
the  lions  and  leopards  were  paid  for  at  the  rate  of 
sixpence  a  day,  while  the  keepers  received  only 
three-halfpence.  At  later  periods  the  keeper  of 
the  Tower  lions  was  a  person  of  quality,  who  re- 
ceived sixpence  a  day,  and  the  same  sum  for  every 
animal  under  his  charge.  Henry  VI.  gave  the  post 
to  his  marshal,  Robert  Mansfield,  and  afterwards 
to  Thomas  Rookes,  his  dapifer. 

The  post  was  often  held  by  the  Lieutenant  or 
Constable  of  the  Tower,  on  condition  of  his  pro- 
viding a  sufficient  deputy.  Our  ancient  kings  had 
in  their  household  an  official  called  "the  Master 
of  the  King's  Bears  and  Apes."  In  a  semi-circular 
enclosure  round  the  Lion  Tower,  James  I.  and  his 
court  used  to  come  to  see  lions  and  bears  baited 
by  dogs.  In  Howel's  'time  there  were  six  lions  in 
the  Tower,  and  probably  no  other  animals.  In 
1708  Strype  enumerates  eleven  lions,  two  leopards 
or  tigers  (the  worthy  historian,  it  seems,  knows  not 
which),  three  eagles,  two  owls,  two  cats  of  the 
mountain,  and  a  jackal.  In  1754  Maitland  gives 
a  much  larger  catalogue.  By  18 '2  2,  however,  the 
Tower  menagerie  had  sunk  to  a  grizzly  bear,  an 
elephant,  and  a  few  birds.  By  the  diligence  of 
Mr.  Cops,  the  keeper,  the  collection  had  increased, 
in  1829,  to  the  following  :■ — Bengal  lion,  lioness  and 
cubs.  Cape  lion,  Barbary  lioness,  tiger,  leopard, 
jagtiar,  puma,  ocelot,  caracal,  chetah  or  hunting 
leopard,  striped  hysena,  hyaena  dog,  spotted  hyaena, 
African  bloodhound,  wolf,  clouded  black  wolf, 
jackal,  civet  or  musk  cat,  Javanese  civet,  grey 
ichneumon,  paradoxurus,  brown  coati,  racoon, 
American  black  bear,  and  grizzly  bear. 

A  century  ago,  says  Cunningham,  the  lions  in 
the  Tower  were  named  after  the  reigning  kings,  and 
it  was  long  a  vulgar  belief,  "  that  when  a  king  dies, 
the  lion  of  that  name  dies  after  him."  Addison 
alludes  to  this  popular  error  in  his  own  inimitable 
Tvay : — "Our  first  visit,"  he  says  in  the  Freeholder, 


"was  to  the  lions.  My  friend  (the  Tory  Fox- 
hunter),  who  had  a  great  deal  of  talk  with  their 
keeper,  inquired  very  much  after  their  health,  and 
whether  none  of  them  had  fallen  sick  upon  the 
taking  of  Perth  and  the  flight  of  the  Pretender? 
And  hearing  they  were  never  better  in  their  lives, 
I  found  he  was  extremely  startled ;  for  he  had 
learned  from  his  cradle  that  the  Uons  in  the  Tower 
were  the  best  judges  of  the  title  of  our  British  kings, 
and  always  sympathised  with  our  sovereigns." 

The  Bengal  lion  of  1829,  "George,"  as  the 
keepers  called  him,  after  the  reigning  king,  had 
been  captured  when  a  cub  by  General  Watson, 
who  shot  the  parents.  The  general  made  a  goat 
fost-er  the  two  cubs  during  the  voyage  to  England. 
They  were  at  first  allowed  to  walk  in  the  open 
yard,  the  visitors  playing  with  them  with  im- 
punity. They  used  to  be  fed  once,  a  day  only, 
on  a  piece  of  beef  of  eight  or  nine  pounds  weight. 
The  lioness  was  perfectly  tame  till  she  bore  cubs. 
One  of  the  keepers  on  one  occasion  finding  her  at 
large,  drove  her  back  into  her  den,  though  he  was 
only  armfed  with  a  stick,  and  evaded  the  three  springs 
she  made  at  him.  The  menagerie  declining,'  and 
the  damp  position  and  restricted  room  being  found 
injurious  to  the  animals,  they  were  transferred  to 
the  Zoological  Gardens,  Regent's  Park,  in  1834. 
The  refreshment  room  and  ticket  office  occupy 
part  of  the  site  of  the  Lion  Tower,  but  the  buildings 
were  not  entirely  removed  until  1853.  The  "wash- 
ing, the  Tower  hons"  on  the  ist  of  April  used  to 
be  an  old  London  hoax. 

The  Tower  Moat,  long  an  offensive  and  useless 
nuisance,  was  finally  drained  in  1843,  and  then 
filled  up  and  turfed  as  a  small  campus  martins  for 
the  ganison.  Evergreens  are  planted  on  the  banks, 
and  on  the  north-east  is  a  shrubbery  garden. 

In  draining  the  moat  the  workmen  found  several 
stone  shot,  supposed  to  be  missiles  directed  at  the 
fortress  during  the  siege  of  1460,  when  Lord  Scales 
held  the  Tower  for  Henry  VI.,  and  the  Yorkists 
cannonaded  the  fortress  from  a  battery  in  South- 
wark.  Our  readers  will  remember  two  occasions 
when  the  Tower  fired  on  the  City  :  first,  when 
the  Bastard  Falconbridge  attacked  the  bridge  under 
pretence  of  aiding  the  king;  and  again  on  Evil 
May  Day,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIIL,  when  the 
Constable  of  the  Tower,  enraged  at  the  tumult,  dis- 
charged his  cannon  on  Che'apside  way.  In  1792, 
when  there  was  much  popular  discontent,  several 
hundred  men  were  employed  to  repair  the  Tower 
fortifications,  opening  the  embrasures,  and  mount- 
ing cannon ;  and  on  the  west  side  of  the  fortress, 
a  strong  barricade  was  formed  of  old  casks,  filled 
with  earth  and  rubble.     The  gates  were  closed  at 


90 


OLD  AND  NEW  LoKtDON. 


['The  Towef. 


an  early  hour,  and  no  one  but  soldiers  allowed  upon 
the  ramparts.  In  1830,  when  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton, the  Constable,  filled  the  Tower  Ditch  with 
water,  and  cleansed  and  deepened  it,  the  Radicals 
declared  he  was  putting  the  fortress  into  order  in 
case  of  the  Reform  agitation,  as  very  likely  he  was. 


with  shrines  and  sculpture.  A  letter  still  existing, 
and  quoted  by  Strype,  of  Henry  III.  (that  great 
builder),  desires  the  keeper  of  the  Tower  works  to 
plaster  the  chancel  of  St.  Peter,  and  to  colour  anew 
the  shrine  and  figure  of  Mary,  and  the  images  ol 
St.  Peter,  St.  Nicholas,  St.  Katherine,  the  beam 


THE  TOWER  MOAT.     {From  a  View  taken  about  1800.) 


The  church  of  St.  Peter  ad  Vincula,  situated 
near  to  the  north-west  of  the  White  Tower,  was 
built,  or  rebuilt,  by  Edward  III.;  the  private  or  royal 
chapel,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  keep,  having  till 
then  been  the  chief  ecclesiastical  building  within 
the  fortress  where  so  many  prisoners  have  groaned. 
The  earlier  church  of  St.  Peter  seems  to  have 
been  large  and  spacious,  fitted  up  with  stalls  for  the. 
king  and  queen,  and  with  two  chancels,  adorned' 


beyond  the  altar  of  St.  Peter,  and  the  Httle  cross 
with  its  figures,  and  to  erect  a  painted  image  of 
the  giant  St.  Christopher  carrying  Jesus.  There 
were  also  to  be  made  two  tables,  painted  with  the 
stories  of  the  blessed  St.  Nicholas  and  St.  Kafhe- 
rine,  before  the  altars  of  the  said  saints.  The  king 
also  ordered  two  fair  cherubims,  with  cheerful  and 
joyful  countenances,  to  be  made,  and  erected  on 
the  right  and  left  of  the  great  cross  in  the  said 


Th;  tower.] 


ST.   PETER  AD  VINCULA. 


91 


92 


OLD  AND   NEW    LONDON. 


[•The  Toviit. 


church,  and  also  a  marble  font  with  pillars,  well 
and  handsomely  wrought ;  "  and  the  cost  for  this 
you  shall  be  at,  by  the  view  and  witness  of  liege 
men,  shall  be  reckoned  to  you  at  the  Exchequer." 

The  interesting  old  church  has  been  modernised 
by  degrees  into  a  small  mean  building,  with  five 
cinquefbil  windows  of  late  Gothic,  a  rude  wooden 
porch,  and  a  small  square  bell-turret  at  the  west  end. 
In  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  Tower  Liberties,  made 
in  1597,  the  church  is  represented  as  having  battle- 
ments, and  two  of  the  five  windows  are  bricked 
up.  They  continued  in  that  state  till  after  1739. 
it  is  supposed  the  old  windows  were  destroyed  by 
fire  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  In  the  reign  of 
Henry  III.  there  was  a  small  cell  or  hermitage  for 
a  male  or  female  recluse  behind  the  church,  the 
inmate  daily  receiving  a  penny  of  the  king's 
charity.  The  church  now  consists  of  a  nave, 
chancel,  and  north  aisle,  the  nave  and  aisle  being 
separated  by  five  low  pointed  arches. 

In  this  building  lie  many  great  persons  whose 
heads  paid  forfeit  for  their  ambition  or  their  crimes. 
There  are  innocent  men  and  women,  too,  among 
them— victims  of  cruelty  and  treachery.  Many 
who  lie  here  headless  suifered  merely  from  being 
unfortunately  too  nearly  allied  to  deposed  royalty. 
In  this  little  Golgotha  are  interred  mighty  secrets 
now  never  to  be  solved ;  for  half  the  crimes  of  our 
English  monarchs  were  wrought  out  on  the  little 
plot  outside  the  church-door  of  St.  Peter  ad 
Vincula. 

One  of  the  earliest  of  the  sufferers  for  state 
errors  who  lie  in  St  Peter's  is  Gerald  Fitzgerald, 
Earl  of  Kildare  and  Lord  Deputy  of  Ireland,  who, 
committed  to  the  Tower  for  treasonable  practices, 
died  there  of  a  teoken  heart  in  1534.  Of  the 
Tower  prisoners  already  mentioned  by  us  there 
here  rest — Fisher,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  for  vexing 
Henry  VIII.  by  refusing  to  deny  the  Papal  supre- 
macy..  By  his  own  request  he  was  buried  near 
Sir  Thomas  More.  The  next  year  the  body  of 
poor  Anne  Boleyn  was  tossed  into  an  old  arrow- 
chest,  and  hurriedly  buried  here.  Katherine 
Howard,  a  really  guilty  queen,  though  more  de- 
serving contempt  than  death,  came  next.  In  the 
same  reign  another  grave  was  filled  by  Cromwell, 
Earl  of  Essex,  the  king's  deposed  favourite,  and 
Margaret,  Countess  of  Salisbury,  mother  of  Cardinal 
Pole.  The  executioner  chased  this  old  countess, 
who  refiised  to  lay  her  head  on  the  block  as  a 
traitor,  round  the  scaffold,  and  killed  her  at  last 
after  many  hasty  blows. 

The  reign  of  Edward  VI.  brought  some  really 
evil  men  to  the  same  burying-place.  One  by  one 
they  came,  after  days  of  greatness  and  of  sorrow. 


First,  Thomas  Lord  Seymour  of  Dudley,  the  Lord 
Admiral,  beheaded  by  order  of  his  brother,  the 
Protector  Somerset ;  then  the  bad  and  ambitious 
Protector  himself. 

In  the  reign  of  Mary  were  buried  here,  after 
execution,  that  poor  unoffending  young  wife,  Lady 
Jane,  the  victim  of  her  selfish  kinsman's  ambition ; 
and  then  the  kinsman  himself,  John  Dudley,  Earl 
of  Warwick  and  Duke  of  Northumberland.  In 
Elizabeth's  mild  reign  only  the  Earl  of  Essex,  who 
so  well  deserved  death,  is  to  be  added  to  the  list. 

In  James's  shameless  reign  the  murdered  Sir 
Thomas  Overbury  was  interred  here ;  and  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  I.  his  victim,  the  great-hearted  Sir 
John  EHot.  His  son  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
convey  his  father's  body  to  Cornwall,  to  lie  among 
his  ancestors  ;  but  Charles,  cold  and '  unrelenting, 
wrote  at  the  foot  of  the  petition,  "  Let  Sir  John 
Eliot's  body  be  buried  in  the  church  of  that  parish 
where  he  died."  After  the  Restoration,  Okey,  the 
regicide,  was  buried  in  the  same  place.  The  weak 
Duke  of  Monmouth  lies  beneath  the  communion- 
table, and  beneath  the  west  gallery  are  the  bodies  * 
of  Lords  Kilmarnock,  Balmerino,  and  that  wicked 
old  fox,  Simon  Lovat  The  Dukes  of  Somerset 
and  Northumberland,  Anne  Boleyn,  and  Katherine 
Howard  were  buried  before  the  high  altar.     ' 

'The  monuments  in  the  church  are  interesting, 
because  the  church  of  St.  Peter  escaped  the  Great 
Fire.  At  the  west  end  of  the  north  aisle  is  a 
fine  enriched  table-tomb,  to  the  memory  of  Sir 
Richard  Cholmondeley  (that  name  which  is  such  a 
stumbling-block  to  foreigners),  Lieutenant  of  the 
Tower,  and  his  wife.  Lady  Elizabeth  (early  part  of 
Henry  VIII.).  The  knight's  recumbent  effigy  is 
in  plate-armour,  with  collar  and  pendant  round 
his  neck.  His  hands  are  joined  in  prayer.  His  , 
lady  wears  a  pointed  head-dress,  and  the  tomb  has 
small  twisted  columns  at  the  angles,  and  is  divided 
at  the  sides  into  square  panels,  enclosing  blank 
shields  and  lozenges.  The  monument  formerly 
stood  in  the  body  of  the  church.  In  the  chancel 
stands  also  a  stately  EUzabethaii  monument,  to  the 
memory  of  Sir  Richard  Blount,  and  Michael  his 
son,  both  Lieutenants  of  the  Tower.  "  Sir  Richard, 
who  died  in  1560,"  says  Bayley,  "is  represented  on 
one  side,  in  armour,  with  his  two  sons,  kneeling ; 
and  opposite  his  wife  and  two  daughters,  who  are 
shown,  in  the  dress  of  the  times,  on  the  other. 
Sir  Michael  is  represented  in  armour  attended  by 
his  three  sons,  his  wife  and  daughter,  all  in  the 
attitude  of  prayer."  There  is  also  a  monument  in 
the  chancel  to  Su:  Allan  Apsley,  a  Lieutenant  of  the 
Tower,  who  died  in  1630.  He  was  the  father  of 
that  noble  woman,  Mrs.-  Lucy  Hutchinson,^  whose 


The  Tower.] 


HISTORICAL  TREASURE  TROVE. 


93 


husband  was  afterwards  confined  in  the  Bloody 
Tower.  On  the  floor  of  the  nave  is  a  small  and 
humble  slab,  to  the  memory  of  Talbot  Edwards, 
gentleman,  who  died  in  1674,  aged  eighty  years. 
This  was  the  brave  old  guardian  pf  the  regalia, 
whom  Blood  and  his  ruffians  nearly  killed,  and  who 
had  at  last  to  sell  his  long-deferred  annuity  of  .;^2oo 
for  ;^ioo  ready  money.  There  is  also  a  monu- 
ment to  Colonel  Gurwood,  that  brave  soldier  who 
led  the  storming  party  at  Ciudad  Rodrigo,  who 
edited  the  "  Wellington  Despatches,"  and  who  died 
by  his  own  hand,  from  insanity  produced  by  his 
wounds.  Other  officers  of  the  Tower  are  buried 
here,  and  amongst  them  George  Holmes,  the  first 
Vice-President  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries,  and 
Deputy  Keeper  of  the  Records  in  the  Tower  (died 
1748).  On  the  outside  of  the  church  is  a  monu- 
ment to  the  memory  of  William  Bridges,  Surveyor- 
General  of  the  Ordnance  under  Queen  Anne. 

The  blood-stained  spot  where  the  private  execu- 
tions formerly  took  place,  nearly  opposite  the  door 
of  St.  Peter's  Church,  is  denoted  by  a  large  oval  of 
dark  flints.  Here  Anne  Boleyn,  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
and  Essex  perished.  It  was  an  old  slander  against 
Raleigh  that  at  the  execution  of  Essex  he  stood 
at  a  window  opposite,  and  puffed  out  tobacco  in 
disdain  of  him.  But  in  his  speech  at  the  scaffold 
Raleigh  declared,  with  all  the  solemnity  due  to 
such  a  moment,  "  My  lord  of  Essex  did  not  see  my 
face  at  the  time  of  his  death,  for  I  had  retired  far 
off  into  the  armoury,  where  I  indeed  saw  him,  .and 
shed  tears  for  him,  but  he  saw  not  me." 

Archbishop  Laud,  in  his  superstitious  "  Diaiy," 
records  with  fanatical  horror  the  fact,  that  in  the 
lieutenancy  of  Alderman  Pennington,  the  regicide 
Lord.  Mayor  of  London,  one  Kem,  vicar  of  Low 
Leyton,  in  Essex,  preached  in  this  very  St.  Peter's 
in  a  gown  over  a  buff  coat  and  scarf. 

In  the  reigns  of  Henry  III.  and  Edward  I.  the 
chaplains  of  St.  Peter's  received  sos.  per  annum 
firom  the  Exchequer.  Afterwards  the  chaplain  was 
turned  into  a  rector,  and  given  60S.  a  year.  In  1354 
Edward  III.,  however,  converted  the  chapel  into  a 
sort  of  collegiate  church,  and  appointed  three  chap- 
lains to  help  the  rector,  granting  them,  besides  the 
60s.,  a  rent  of  31s.  8d.  firom  tenements  in  Tower 
Hill  and  Petty  Wales.  Petty  Wales  was  an  old 
house  in  Thames  Street,  near  the  Custom  House, 
supposed  to  be  where  the  Princes  of  Wales  used 
to  reside  when  they  came  to  the  City.  The  chap- 
lains also  received  a  rent  of  55.  from  the  Hospital 
of  St.  Katherine,  and  certain  tributes  from  Thames 
fishing-boats,  together  with  ten  marks  from  the  Ex- 
chequer, 20s.  from  the  Constable  of  the  Tower, 
los.  from  the  clerk  of  the  Mint,  13s.  4d.  from  the 


Master  of  the  Mint,  and  id.  per  week  from  the 
wages  of  each  workman  or  teller  of  coins  at  the 
Mint.  The  church  was  exempt  from  episcopal 
authority  till  the  time  of  Edward  VI. 

Several  interesting  discoveries  of  Roman  anti-._ 
iquities  within  the  Tower  precincts  encourage  us  f;o> 
the  behef  in  the  old  tradition  that  the  Romans  built 
a  fortress  here.  In  1777,  workmen  digging  the- 
foundations  of  a  new  office  for  the  Board  of  Ord-. 
nance,  after  breaking  through  foundations  of  ancient 
buildings,  found  below  the  level  of  the  present 
river-bed  a  double  wedge  of  silver,  four  inches  long,, 
and  in  the  broadest  part  nearly  three  inches  broad.. 
In  the  centre  was  the  inscription,  "Ex  officini. 
Honorii."  This  ingot  is  supposed  to  have  been 
cast  in  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Honorius,  a.d. 
393,  the  Roman  emperor  who,  harassed  by  the 
Goths,  in  A.D.  410  surrendered  Britain  to  its  own 
people,  and  finally  withdrew  the  Roman  troops. 
The  unhappy  Britons,  then  overwhelmed  by  the 
Picts  and  Scots,  applied  for  assistance  to  the  Saxons, 
who  soon  conquered  the  people  they  had  come  to 
assist.  With  this  silver  ingot  were  found  three 
gold  coins,  aurei,  one  of  Honorius,  and  two  of  his 
brother  Arcadius.  The  coins  of  Arcadius  were  pro- 
bably struck  at  Constantinople,  the  capital  of  the 
Eastern  empire.  On  these  poins  (reverse)  there  is 
a  soldier  treading  a  captive  under  foot.  In  his  left 
hand  the  soldier  holds  the  labarum  j  in  the  right, 
a  small  figure  of  Victory.  In  the  same  spot  was 
also  found  a  square  stone,  dedicated  to  the  manes 
of  Titus  Licinius,  and  a  small  glass  crown. 

In  the  year  1772  an  elegant  little  open  jewelled 
crown  was  found  near  the  east  side  of  the  White 
Tower,  leading  from  Cold  Harbour.  It  seems  to 
have  been  the  crown  of  some  image,  and  was  set 
with  emeralds,  rubies,  and  pearls. 

The  Waterloo  Barracks,  a  large  modern  Gothic 
building,  that  will  hold  1,000  men,  used  as  a 
barrack  and  armoury,  and  loopholed  for  musketry, 
was  completed  in  1849,  on  the  site  of  the  Grand 
Storehouse,  burned  down  in  1841.  The  first  stone 
was  laid  in  1845  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  a 
stone  statue  of  whom,  by  Milnes,  stands  near  the 
spot.  North-east  of  the  White  Tower  is  another 
modem  castellated  range  of  buildings,  for  the 
officers  of  the  garrison.  South-eastward  are  the 
Ordnance  Office  and  storehouses.  The  area  of  the 
Tower  within  the  walls  is  twelve  acres  and  five 
poles,  and  the  circuit  outside  the  ditch  is  1,050 
yards.  The  portcullis  of  the  Bloody  Tower  is  one 
of  the  last  complete  relics  of  feudahsm,  being  the 
only  perfect  and  usable  portcullis  in  England. 

The  Royal  Mint  had  its  offices  in  the  Tower 
till  181 1,  when  the  present  building  on  Tower  Hill 


94 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


IThe  Tower. 


was  completed.  Stow  speaks  of  the  Tower  as  a 
citadel  to  defend  or  command  the  City,  a  royal 
palace  for  assemblies  or  treaties,  a  state  prison  for 
dangerous  offenders,  the  only  place  for  coining  in 
England  in  his  time,  an  armoury  for  warlike  pro- 
visions, the  treasury  of  the  jewels  of  the  crown, 
and  the  storehouse  of  the  records  of  the  king's 
courts  of  justice  at  Westminster.  Many  of  our 
poets  have  specially  mentioned  the  Tower.  Of 
these,  Shakespeare  stands  pre-eminent.  In  the 
tragedy  of  Ric?iard  III.  he  shows  us  the  two 
princes'  instinctive  horror  of  the  place  in  which 
their  cruel  uncle,  the  Crookback,  wished  them  to 
spend  the  few  days  before  the  coronation  of  the 
young  Edward : — 

"  Prince.  I  do  not  like  the  Tower,  of  any  place. 
.  Did  Julius  Caesar  build  that  place,  my  lord  ? 

Buck.  He  did,  my  gracious  lord,  begin  that  place, 
Which  since  succeeding  ages  have  re-edified. 

Prince.  Is  it  upon  record,  or  else  reported 
Successively  fr6m  age  to  age,  he  built  it  ? 

Buck,  Upon  record,  my  gracious  lord." 

And  in  another  passage,  in  Richard  II.,  the, poet 
seems  to  hint  at  a  similar  association : — 

"  This  is  the  way 
To  Julius  Csesar's  ill-erected  Tower." 

Gray,  in  his  "  Bard,"  speaks  of — 

"  Ye  towers  of  Julius,  London's  lasting  shame, 
With  many  a  foul  and  midnight  murder  fed." 

Before  tearing  ourselves  from  the  Tower,  we 
may  mention  a  few  nooks  and  "corners  of  interest 
not  generally  known  to  visitors.  In  the  north- 
eastern turret  of  the  White  Tower  was  the  ob- 
servatory of  that  great  astronomical  rival  of  Newton, 
John  Flamstead.  Here  often  he  "  outwatched  the 
bear."  The  Ordnance  Office  gave  him  j^ioo 
a  year.  The  roof  of  this  tower  was  a  promenade 
for  prisoners.  In  1708  there  were  3,000  barrels  of 
gunpowder  stored  close  to  the  White  Tower.  The 
Record  Tower,  or  Hall  Tower,  was  formerly  called 
the  Wakefield  Tower,  from  the  Yorkist  prisoners 
confined  there  after  that  great  batde  of  the 
Roses. 

The  most  terrible  cells  of  the  fortress,  such  as 
those  over  which  Mr,  Harrison  Ainsworth  threw  a 
blue  fire,  are  in  the  Bowyer  Tower,  where  there 
is  a  ghastly  hole  with  a  trap-door,  opening  upon 
a  flight  of  steps.  In  the  lower  chambers  of  the 
Devereux  Tower  are  subterranean  passages,  leading 
to  St.  Peter's  Church.  In  the  Beauchamp  Tower  a 
secret  passage  has  been  discovered  in  the  masonry, 
where  spies  could  cower,  and  listen  to  the  con- 
versations and  soliloquies  of  poor  unsuspecting 
prisoners.      One  torture-chamber  was  called,  says 


Mr.  Hewitt,  "  Little  Ease,"  because  it  was  so  small 
that  a  prisoner  could  not  stand  erect,  or  even  lie 
down  at  full  length.     Other  cells  are  said  to  have 
been  full  of  rats,  which  at  high  water  were  driven 
up  in  shoals  from  the  Thames.     Hatton,  in  1708, 
describes  the  Tower  guns  as  sixty-two  in  number ; 
they  were  on  the  wharf,  and  were  discharged  on  all 
occasions  of  victories,   coronations,  festival  days, 
days  of  thanksgiving,  and  triumphs.    They  are  now 
fired  from  a  salutation-battery  facing  Tower  Hill. 
The  prisoner's  walks  in  the  Tower,  spots  of  many 
a  mournful  hour  of  regret  and  contemplation,  are 
specially  interesting.     There  is  one — a  passage  on 
the  leads  between  the  (alarm)  Bell  Tower  and  the 
Beauchamp  Tower.     The   walls   are  carved  with 
names.     In  the  Garden  Tower  are  also  leads  where 
prisoners  used  to  pace ;  and  Pepys,  visiting  the 
Tower,  March  11,  1669,  in  order  to  see  Sir  W. 
Coventry,  they  visit  what  was  then  called  "My 
Lord  of  Northumberland's  Walk ;"  at  the  end  of  it 
there  was  a  piece  of  iron  upon  the  wall  with  his  arms 
upon  it,  and  holes  to  put  in  a  peg  for  every  turn 
made  upon  the  walk.     Mrs.  Hutchinson  especially 
mentions  that  her  husband  was  confined  in  the 
room  of  the  Bloody  Tower  where  it  was  said  the 
two  princes  were  murdered.     The  room  that  led  to 
it  was  that  in  which,  it  is  popularly  believed,  the 
Duke  of  Clarence  was  drowned.     "  It  was  a  dark, 
great  room,"    says  the  amiable  and  faithful  wife, 
"  with  no  window  in  it,  and  the  portcullis  of  a  gate 
was.  drawn  up  within  it,  and  below  there  sat  every 
night  a  court  of  guard." 

The  council-chamber  of  the  Lieutenant's  lodg- 
ings, where  Guy  Fawkes  was  examined,  and  perhaps 
tortured,  is  said  to  be  haunted,  and  the  soldiers 
of  the  Tower  have  a  firm  belief  that  a  ghost,  in 
some  ambiguous  and  never  clearly-defined  shape, 
appeared  on  one  occasion  to  a  drunken  sentry  near 
the  Martin  Tower,  the  old  Jewel  House.  It  is 
said  that  upwards  of  1,000  prisoners  have  been 
groaning  together  at  one  time  in  the  Tower.  The 
person  who  beheves  in  the  Tower  §host  can  swallow 
this  too.  Bayley  mentions  that  the  bones  of  an 
old  ape,  which  had  hidden  itself  and  died  in  an 
unoccupied  turret,  were  set  down  in  his  time  as 
those  of  the  two  murdered  princes. 

During  the  Spa  Fields  riot  some  of  the  rioters, 
including  Thistlevyood,  afterwards  the  desperate 
leader  of  the  Cato  Street  conspirators,  came  to  the 
Tower  walls  and  tried  to  persuade  the  soldiers  to 
join  them,  offering  them  ;^ioo  each,  but  failed  to 
win  over  even  a  single  recruit.  A  few  years  ago 
the  population  of  the  Tower,  including  the  garrison, 
was  1,488. 

In  old  times,  says  Mr.  Dixon,  in  his  book  on 


Neiglibourliood  of  the  Tower.] 


TOWER  HILL. 


95 


London  Prisons,  whenever  it  was  found  necessary 
to  carry  a  prisoner  through  the  streets,  the  sheriffs 
received  him  from  the  king's  Heutenants  at  the 
entrance  to  the  City,  gave  a  receipt  for  him,  and 


took  another  on  dehvering  him  up  at ,  the  gates  of 
the  Tower.  The  receipt  of  the  Governor  of  the 
Tower  for  the  body  of  the  Duke  of  Monmouth — 
his  Hving  body— is  still  extant. 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE    NEIGHBOURHOOD    OF    THE    TOWER. 

Tower  Hill— Some  of  its  Ghastly  Associations— A  Great  Whig  Downfall— Perambulating  the  "  Bounds  "  of  the  Tower  Liberties— Famous  Resi- 
dents on  Tower  Hill— Lady  Raleigh— William  Penn— Otway  and  the  Story  of  his  Death—  Felton's  Knife— Old  Houses— Spenser— Great 
•    Tower  Street  and  Peter  the  Great— Bakers'  Hall— Thomson  the  Ppet- A  Strange  Corruption  of  a  Name— Seething  Lane— The  Old  Navy 
Office. 


Of  Tower  Hill,  that  historical  and  blood-stained 
ground  to  the  north-west  of  the  Tower,  old  Stow 
says  : — "  Tower  Hill,  sometime  a  large  plot  of 
ground,  now  greatly  straitened  by  encroachments 
(unlawfully  made  and  suffered)  for  gardens  and 
houses.  Upon  this  hill  is  always  readily  prepared, 
at  the  charges  of  the  City,  a  large  scaffold  and 
gallows  of  timber,  for  the  execution  of  such 
traitors  or  transgressors  as  are  delivered  out  of  the 
Tower,  or  otherwise,  to  the  Sheriffs  of  London, 
by  writ,  there  to  be  executed." 

Hatton,  in  1708  (Queen  Anne)  mentions  Tower 
Hill  as  "a  spacious  place  extending  round  the  west 
and  north  parts  of  the  Tower,  where  there  are  many  . 
good  new  buildings,  mostly  inhabited  by  gentry  and 
merchants."  The  tide  of  fashion  and  wealth  had  not 
yet  set  in  strongly  westward.  An  old  plan  of  the 
Tower  in  1563  shows  us  the  posts  of  the  scaffold 
for  state  criminals,  a  good  deal  north  of  Tower 
Street  and  a  little  northward  of  Legge  Mount, 
the  great  north-west  comer  of  the  Tower  fortifica- 
tions. In  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  the  scaffold 
was  erected  at  the  charge  of  the  king's  officers,  and 
many  controversies  arose  at  various  times,  about 
the  respective  boundaries,  between  the  City  and 
the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower. 

On  the  Tower  Hill  scaffold  perished  nearly  all 
the  prisoners  whose  wrongs  and  sorrows  and 
crimes  we  have  glanced  at  in  a  previous  chapter ; 
the  great  Sir  Thomas  More,  the  wise  servant  of  a 
corrupt  king ;  the  unhappy  old  Countess  of  Salis- 
bury, who  was  chopped  down  here  as  she  ran 
bleeding  round  the  scaffold  j  Bishop  Fisher,  a 
staunch  adherent  to  the  old  faith ;  that  great  sub- 
verter  of  the  mpnks,  Cromwell,  Earl  of  Essex ;  and 
the  poet  Earl  of  Surrey — all  victims  of  the  same 
bad  monarch. 

Then  in  the  reigns  of  Edward  VI.  and  Mary,  in 
ghastly  procession  after  the  masked  headsman, 
paced  Lord  Seymour  j  in  due  course  followed  the 
l^rother  who   put  him  to:  death,   the  proud  Pro- 


tectoir  Somerset ;  then  that  poor  weak  young  noble, 
Lady  Jane  Grey's  husband,  Lord  Guildford  Dudley ; 
and  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  the  rash  objector  to  a 
Spanish  marriage. 

The  victims  of  Charles's  folly  followed  in  due 
time — the  dark  and  arrogant  Strafford,  who  came 
like  a  crowned  conqueror  to  his  death ;  then  his 
sworn  ally,  the  narrow-browed,  fanatical  Laud. 
The  Restoration  Cavaliers  took  their  vengeance 
next,  and  to  Tower  Hill  passed  those  true  patriots, 
Stafford,  insisting  on  his  innocence  to  the  very 
last,  and  Algernon  Sydney."  The  unlucky  Duke 
of  Monmouth  was  the  next  to  lay  his  misguided 
head  on  the  block. 

Blood  ceased  to  flow  on  Tower  Hill  after  this 
execution  till  the  Pretender's  fruitless  rebelUons  of 
17 15  and  1745  brought  Derwentwater,  "the  pride 
of  the  North,"  Kilmarnock,  Balmerino,  and  wily 
old  Lovat  to  the  same  ghastly  bourne.  In  1746 
Mr.  RadcliflFe  (Lord  Derwentwater's  brother)  was 
executed  here.  He  had  been  a  prisoner  in  the 
Tower  for  his  share  in  the  rebellion  of  1715,  but 
succeeded  in  escaping.  He  was  identified  by  the 
barber,  who  thirty-one  years  before  had  shaved  him 
when  in  prison. 

Chamberlain  Clarke,  who  died  in  183 1,  aged 
ninety-two  (a  worthy  old  City  authority,  who  has 
been  mentioned  by  us  in  a  previous  chapter),  well 
remembered  (says  Mr.  Timbs),  as  a  child,  seeing  the 
executioner's  axe  flash  in  the  sunshine  as  it  fell 
upon  the  neck  of  Mr.  Radcliffe.  At  the  last  execu- 
tion which  took  place  on  Tower  Hill,  that  of  Lord 
Lovat,  April  9,  1747,  a  scaffolding,  built  near 
Barking  Alley,  fell,  with  nearly  1,000  persons  on 
it,  and  twelve  of  them  were  killed.  Lovat,  in 
spite  of  his  awflil  situation,  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
downfall  of  so  many  Whigs. 

There  is  a  passage  in  Ifsnfy  VIII. — a  play  con» 
sidered  by  many  persons  to  be  not  Shakespeare'a 
writing  at  all,  and  by  some  others  only  partly  his 
work — that  has  much  puzzled  those  wise  persons, 


96 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tNeighbourhood  of  the  Tower. 


the  commentators.  The  author  of  the  play,  which 
is  certainly  not  quite  in  the  best  Shakespearian 
manner,  makes  a  door-porter  say,  talking  of  a 
mob,  "These  are  the  youths  that  thunder  at  a 
play-house  and  fight  for  bitten  apples :  that  no 
audience  but  the  tribulation  of  Tower  Hill  or  the 


formed  upon  the  parade,  including  a  headsman, 
bearing  the  axe  of  execution ;  a  painter,  to  mark 
the  bounds ;  yeomen,  warders,  with  halberds ;  the 
Deputy  Lieutenant  and  other  officers  of  the  Tower, 
&c.  The  boundary-stations  are  painted  with  a 
red  "broad  arrow''  upon  a  white  ground,  while 


LORD  LOVAT.     {From  Hogarth's  Porh-ait.) 


limbs  of  Limehouse  are  able  to  endure."  This 
passage  seems  to  imply  that  there  were  low  theatres 
in  Shakespeare's  time  near  Tower  Hill  and  Lime- 
house,  or  did  he  refer  to  the  crowd  at  a  Tower 
Hill  execution,  and  to  the  mob  of  sailors  at  the 
second  locality  ? 

A  curious  old  custom  is  still  perpetuated  in  this 
neighbourhood.  The  "bounds"  of  the  Tower 
Liberties  are  perambulated  triennially,  when,  after 
service  in  the  church  of  St.  Peter,  a  procession  is 


the  chaplain  of  St.  Peter's  repeats,  "  Cursed  be  he 
who  removeth  his  neighbour's  landmark."  Another 
old  custom  of  lighting  a  bonfire  on  Tower  Hill,  on 
the  sth  of  November,  was  suppressed  in  the  year 
1854. 

The  traditions  of  Tower  Hill,  apart  from  the 
crimson  block  and  the  glittering  axe,  are  few,  but 
what  there  are,  are  interesting.  Poor  suffering  Lady 
Raleigh,  when  driven  from  the  side  of  her 
imprisoned  husband,  as  James  began  to  drive  him 


Netehbourhood  of  the  Tower.]      WILLIAM  PENN  AND  THOMAS  OTWAY. 


97 


faster  towards  death,  lodged  on  Tower  Hill  with 
her  son  who  had  been  born  in  the  Tower. 

William  Penn,  the  founder  of  Pennsylvania,  was 
bom  on  Tower  Hill,  October  14,  1 644.  The  house 
of  his  father,  the  Admiral,  was  "  on  the  east  side, 
within  a  court  adjoining  to  London  Wall."    Penn, 


ever,  already  been  deeply  impressed  by  the  preach- 
ing of  a  Quaker.  In  old  age  this  good  and  wise 
man  fell  into  difficulties,  and  actually  had  to  mort- 
gage the  province  of  Pennsylvania  for  ;^6,6oo.  He 
died  at  Beaconsfield,  in  Buckinghamshire,  in  17 18. 
That  tender-hearted  poet,  Thomas  Otway,  the 


AN  OLD  HOUSE  ON  LITTLE  TOWER  HILL.     {From  a  Drawing  ty  Smith  made  in  1792,) 


in  one  of  his  works,  states  that  "the  Lord  first 
appeared  to  him  about  the  twelfth  year  of  his  age, 
and  that  between  that  and  the  fifteenth  the  Lord 
visited  him  and  gave  him  divine  impressions  of 
himself."  It  was  when  he  was  at  school  at  Chig- 
well,  in  Essex,  that  one  day,  alone  in  his  chamber,  he 
was  suddenly  "surprised  with  an  inward  comfort, 
and  surrounded  by  a  visible  external  glory,  that  con- 
vinced the  youth's  excited  imagination  that  he  had 
obtained  the  seal  of  immortality.  He  had,  how- 
57— Vol.  Ih 


friend  of  Shadwell— whose  poverty  and  wretched- 
ness Rochester  cruelly  sneered  at  in  his  "Session  of 
the  Poets,"  and  whose  nature  and  pathos  Dryden 
praised,  though  somewhat  reluctantly — died,  as  it 
is  generally  thought,  of  starvation,  at  the  "  Bull" 
■public-house  on  Tower  Hill.  He  was  only  thirty- 
four  when  he  died.  The  stories  of  his  untimely 
death  differ.  Dr.  Johnson';-,  version  is  that,  being 
naked  and  in  a  rage  of  hunger,  he  went  to  a  neigh- 
bouring cofifee-house,  and  asked  a  gentleman  for  a 


98 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Neighbourhood  of  the  Tower. 


shilling.  The  gentleman  generously  gave  the 
starving  poet  a  guinea,  on  -yvhich  Otway  rushed 
into  the  nearest  baker's,  bought  a  roll,  and,  eating 
with  ravenous  haste,  was  choked  with  the  first 
mouthful.  But  Spence  was  told  by  Dennis,  the 
well-known  critic,  and  the  great  enemy  of  Pope, 
that  an  intimate  friend  of  Otway' s,  being  shot  by 
an  assassin,  who  escaped  to  Dover,  en  route  for 
France,  Otway  pursued  him.  In  the  excitement 
he  drank  cold  water,  and  brought  on  a  fever, 
which  carried  him  off.  Goldsmith,  in  the  "  Bee," 
tells  a  story  of  Otway  having  about  him  when  he 
died  a  copy  of  a  tragedy  which  he  had  sold  to 
Bentley  the  bookseller  for  a  mere  trifle,  It  was 
never  recovered,  but  in  1 7 1 9  a  spurious  forgery  of 
it  appeared. 

It  was  at  a  cutler's  shop  on  Tower  Hill  that 
Felton,  that  grim  fanatic,  who  believed  himself  an 
instrument  of  Heaven,  bought  the  broad,  sharp,  ten- 
penny  hunting-knife  with  which  he  gave  the  heavy 
and  sure  blow  at  Portsmouth,  that  ended .  the 
ambition  and  plots  of  the  first  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, the  mischievous  favourite  of  Charles  I. 

That  admirable  antiquarian  artist.  Smith,  has 
engraved  a  view  of  a  curious  old  house  on  Tower 
Hill,  enriched  with  medallions  evidently  of  the 
time  of  Henry  VIII.  (probably  terra  cotta),  like 
those,  says  Peter  Cunningham,  at  old  Whitehall  and 
Hampton  Court.'  It  was  not  unusual,  when  coins 
were  found  upon  a  particular  spot  whereon  a  house 
was  to  be  erected,  to  cause  sjjch  coins  to  be  repre- 
sented in  plaster  on  the  house.  A  reproduction 
of  this  engraving  will  be  found  on  the  previous 
page. 

In  Postern  Row,  the  site  of  the  old  postern  gate 
at  the  south-eastern  end  of  the  City  wall,  used, 
says  Timbs,  to  be  the  old  rendezvous  for  enlisting 
soldiers  and  sailors,  and  for  arranging  the  iniquitous 
press-gangs  to  scour  Wapping  and  Ratchff  High- 
way. The  shops  here  are  hung  with  waterproof 
coats,  sou'-westers,  and  other  articles  of  dress ;  and 
the  windows  are  full  of  revolvers,  quadrants,  com- 
passes, ship's  biscuits,  &c.,  to  attract  sailors. 

At  the  south-west  corner  of  Tower  Hill  is  Tower 
Docks,  where  luckless  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  in  dis- 
guise, after  his  escape  from  the  Tower  in  1618, 
took  boat  for  Tilbury.  That  most  poetical  of  all 
our  poets,  Edmund  Spenser,  was  born  near  Tower 
Hill,  in  1552.  Very  little  is  known  of  his  parentage, 
but  though  poor,  it  must  have  been  respectable,  as 
he  was  sent  at  sixteen  to  Pembroke  College,  Cani- 
bridge,  as  a  humble  student  or  sizar.  He  dedicated 
one  of  his  early  poems  to  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  that 
star  of  Elizabethan  knighthood,  and  'begaa  his 
career  by  gomg  to-  Irelamd  (a  couniry  whose  T«ild 


people  he  often  sketches  in  his  "Fairy  Queen"), 
as  secretary  to  Lord  Grey  of  Wilton,  the  viceroy. 
He  is  said  to  have  there  commenced  his  "  Fairy 
Queen,"  urged  on  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  He  seems 
to  have  spent  about  seventeen  years  in  that  Patmos, 
and  returned  to  London  poor  and  heart-broken, 
having  had  his  castle  burnt  down,  and  his  infant 
child  destroyed  in  the  fire.  He  was  buried  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  at  the  expense  of  the  Earl  of 
Essex.  The  poems  of  Spenser  furnished  many 
suggestions  to  Shakespeare,  who  probably  derived 
from  them  the  story  of  Kwg  Lear,  and  some  of 
the  most  beautiful  of  his  heroine's  names.  Spenser 
himself  drew  his  inspiration  from  the  Italian  poets. 

The  second  Duke  of  Buckingham  used  often  to 
visit  in  disguise,  in  his  days  of  political  intrigue,  a 
poor  .astrologer,  who  drew  horoscopes,  near  Tower 
Hill.  Science  was  then  making  great  advances, 
thanks  to  the  inductive  system  introduced  by  Bacon; 
but  even  Newton  practised  alchemy,'  and  witches 
were  still  burnt  to  death. 

The  parishes  and  liberties  now  called  the  Tower 
Hamlets,  and  since  1832  returning  two  members  to 
the  House  of  Commons,  included  Hackney,  Norton 
Folgate,  Shoreditch,  Spitalfields,  Whitechapel,  East 
Smithfield,  St.  Katherine's,  Wapping,  RatcliflF,  Shad- 
well,  Limehouse,  Poplar,  Blackwall,  Bromley,  Old 
Ford,  Mile  End,  Bethnal  Green,  &c.  An  alteration 
was  effected  by  the  Reform  Bill  of  1867,  when 
Hackney  was  ,  made  a  separate  electoral  district, 
returning  two  members  to  Parliament. 

Great  Tower  Street  has  not  many  traditions  to 
boast  of,  though  sailors  and  Tower  warders  have 
haunted  it  for  centuries.  Its  two  main  antiquarian 
heroes  are  the  Earl  of  Rochester  and  that  noble 
savage,  Peter  the  Great.  One  of  this  mad  earl's 
maddest  freaks  brought  him  to  Tower  Street. 
While  in  disgrace  at  court,  we  ..believe  for  his  bitter 
satire  on  Charles  II.,  called  the  "  History  of  the 
Insipids,"  he  robed  and  bearded  himself  as  an 
Italian  quack  or  mountebank  physician,  and  under 
the  name  of  Alexander  Bendo,  set  up  at  a  gold- 
smith's house,  next  door  to  the  "Black  Swan,"  in 
Tower  Street,  where  he  advertised  that  he  was 
sure  to  be  seen  "  from  three  of  the  clock  in  the 
afternoon  till  eight  at  night."  His  biographer. 
Bishop  Burnet,  mentions  this ;  and  it  is  said  that 
the  earl  surprised  his  patients  by  the  knowledge  of 
court  secrets  he  displayed. 

The  second  story  of  Great  Tower  Street  relates  , 
to  the  true  founder  of  the  Russian  Empire.    This    ■ 
extraordinary  man,  whose  strong  shoulder  helped 
his  country  out  of  the  slough  of  ignorance  and 
obscurity,,  was  bom  in  1672;  and  visited  Holland 
in  1698,  to  learn  the  art  of  shipbuilding,,  having 


'Weighbourhood  of  the  Tower.]     NOTABILIA  OF  THE  TOWER  PRECINCTS. 


99 


resolved  to  establish  a  Russian  navy.  Having 
worked  among  the  Dutch  as  a  common  labourer, 
he  finally  came  to  England  for  four  months,  to  visit 
our  dockyards  and  perfect  himself  in  ship-building. 
While  in  England  he  lived  alternately  in  Bucking- 
ham Street,  Strand  (bottom  house  on  the  left-hand 
side),  and  Evelyn's  house  at  Deptford.  After  a 
hard  day's  work  with  adze  and  saw,  the  young 
Czar,  who  drank  like  a  boatswain,  used  to  resort  to 
a  public-house  in  Great  Tower  Street,  and  smoke 
and  drink  ale  and  brandy,  almost  enough  to  float 
the  vessel  he  had  been  helping  to  construct.  "  The 
landlord,"  says  Barrow,  Peter's  biographer,  "had 
the  Czar  of  Muscovy's  head  painted  and  put  up 
for  his  sign,  which  continued  till  the  year  1808, 
when  a  person  of  the  name  of  Waxel  took  a  fancy 
to  the  old  sign,  and  offered  the  then  occupier  of 
the  house  to  paint  him  a  new  one  for  it.  A  copy 
was  accordingly  made  from  the  original,  which 
maintains  its  station  to  the  present  day  as  the  sign 
of  the  'Czar  of  Muscovy.'  The  house  has  since 
been  rebuilt,  and  the  sign  removed,  but  the 
name  remains.  Peter  was  recalled  from  his  pitch- 
pots  and  adzes  by  the  news  of  an  insurrection  in 
Russia,  headed  by  his  sister.  A  year  after,  he 
declared  war  on  that  'madman  of  the  North,' 
Charles  XH.  of  Sweden." 

Bakers'  Hall  hides  itself  with  humility  in  Harp 
Lane,  Great  Tower  Street.  The  "neat,  plain 
building,"  as  Mr.  Peter  Cunningham  calls  it,  re- 
paired by  Mr.  James  Elmes,  the  author  of  the 
"Life  of  Wren,"  was  (says  Stow)  some  time  the 
dwelling-house  of  Alderman  Chichley,  Chamberlain 
of  London,  who  was  descended  from  the  celebrated 
Chichley,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  ambassador 
from  Henry  IV.  to  the  Pope.  He  accompanied 
Henry  V.  to  the  French  war.  His  life  was  spent 
in  a  two-handed  warfare — against  the  Pope  and 
against  the  Wickliffites.  This  generous  prelate 
improved  Canterbury  Cathedral  and  Lambeth 
Palace,  and  founded  All  Souls'  College  at  Oxford. 
The  London  bakers  were  originally  divided  into 
"  white  "  and  "  brown  "  bakers.  The  chief  supply 
of  bread  (says  Strype)  came  from  Stratford-le-Bow. 
By  a  somewhat  tyrannical  edict  of  the  City,  the 
Stratford  loaves  were  required  to  be  heavier  in 
weight  than  the  London  loaves. 

In  the  uncongenial  atmosphere  of  Little  Tower 
Street,  that  fat,  lazy,  and  good-natured  poet,  James 
Thomson,  wrote  his  fine  poem  of  "Summer," 
published  in  ,1727.  In  a  letter  to  Aaron  Hill, 
dated  May  24,  1726,  he  says,  "I  go  on.  Saturday 
next  to  reside  at  Mr.  Watts's  academy,  in  Little 
Tower  Street,  in  quality  of  tutor  to  a  young  gentle- 
man there."  Thomson  was  the  son  gf  a  Roxburgh- 


shire clergyman,  and  was  educated  for  the  Church 
— a  profession  which,  however,  he  never  entered. 
He  came  to  London  in  1725,  and  published  his 
"Winter,"  a  poem  whose  broadly-painted  land- 
scapes remind  us  of  those  of  Wilson  and  contem- 
poraneous painters,  just  as  Byron's  poems  remind 
us  of  Turner.  In  1730  Thomson  went  abroad,  as 
traveUing  tutor  with  the  son  of  Lord  Chancellor 
Talbot.  There  was  no  return  to  dingy  Little 
Tower  Street  for  the  epicurean  poet,  who  soon 
after  obtained  some  Government  sinecures,  among 
others  the  post  of  Surveyor-General  to  the  Leeward 
Islands,  and  became  patronised  by  the  Prince  of 
Wales.  Thomson's  poem  of  the  "Seasons"  did 
much  to  foster  our  national  love  of  Nature,  but 
the  poet's  chef-d'oeuvre  is,  after  all,  his  "  Castle  of 
Indolence,"  a  poem  full  of  the  poet's  idiosyncrasy. 

One  of  the  strangest  corruptions  of  the  names  of 
London  streets  occurs  in  the  Tower  precincts.  A 
place  once  called  "  Hangman's  Gains,"  as  if  built 
with  the  fees  of  some  Tower  executioner,  should 
really  have  been  "  Ham  .and  Guienne,"  for  here 
(says  Strype)  poor  refugees  from  "Hammes  and 
Guynes"  were  allowed  to  lodge  in  Queen  Mary's 
reign,  after  Calais  and  its  vicinity  had  been  recovered 
from  our  strong  grip  by  the  French. 

Seething  Lane,  Tower  Street,  running  northward 
to  Crutched  Friars,  was  originally  (says  Stow) 
called  Sidon  Lane,  and  in  his  time  there  were  fair 
and  large  houses  there.  The  old  chronicler  of 
London  mentions  among  the  distinguished  resi- 
dents the  wily  Sir  Francis  Walsingham,  Elizabeth's 
principal  secretary.  This  great  counter-plotter 
against  the  Jesuits  in  Spain  died  April  5,  1590, 
and  the  next  night,  at  ten  o'clock,  was  quietly 
buried  in  Paul's  Church.  Walsingham's  name 
occurs  perpetually  in  EUzabethan  annals,  and  no 
one  by  darker  or  more  secret  means  fought  better 
for  Elizabeth  against  the  dangerous  artifices  of  Mary 
Queeii  of  Scots,  whose  ways  were  dark  indeed. 

The  garrulous,  gallant,  and  inimitable  Pepys  was 
living  in  this  lane,  to  be  near  his  work  at  the  Navy 
Ofiice  adjoining,  the  very  year  the  Great  Fire  broke 
out.  He  describes  putting  his  head  out  of  window 
at  the  first  alarm,  and  going  quietly  to  sleep  again, 
on  the  6th  of  September,  about  two  of  the  morning, 
when  his  handsome  wife  called  him  up  and  told 
him  of  new  cries  of  fire,  it  being  come  to  Barking 
Church  (AUhallows,  Barking),  "which  is  at  the 
bottom  of  our  lane."  In  Strype's  time  Seething 
Lane  had  become  "  a  place  of  no  great  account," 
but  there  were  still  merchants  living  there. 

The  old  Navy  Office  in  Seething  or  Sidon 
Lane  had  the  chief  entrance  in  Crutched  Friars, 
and  the  smaller  one  in  the  lane.    It  stood  (says 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


rTho  Mint 


Cunningham)  on  the  site  of  a  chapel  and  college 
attached  to  the  church  of.  AUhallows,  Barking, 
which  had  been  suppressed  and  pulled  down  in 
the  year  1548  (Edward  VI.).  The  consecrated 
ground  remained  a  garden-plot  during  the  troubles 
of  Edward's  reign,  the  rebellions  of  Mary's  reign, 
and  the  glorious  days  of  Elizabeth,  till  at  length  Sir 
William  Winter,  surveyor  of  Elizabeth's  ships,  built 


on  it  a  great  timber  and  brick  storehouse  for 
merchants'  goods,  which  graw  into  a  Navy  Office. 
Cunningham  found  among  the  Audit  Office  enrol- 
ments an  entry  that  in  July,  1788,  the  purchase- 
money  of  the  old  Navy  Office,  ^^^r  1,500,  was 
handed  over  to  Sir  William  Chambers,  the  architect 
of  the  Government  offices  in  the  new  Somerset 
House, 


CHAPTER   XI. 

NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  THE  TOWER.— THE    MINT. 

The  Mint  at  the  Tower— The  First  Silver  Penny— Dishonest  Minters— The  First  EngUsh  Gold  Coinage— Curious  Anecdote  respecting  the  Silver 
Groats  of  Henry  IV. — First  Appearance  of  the  Sovereign  and  the  ShiHing  — Debaseoient  of  the  Coin  in  the  R.;igns  of  Henry  VIII,  and  ' 
Edward  VI. — Ecclesiastical  Comptrollers  of  the  Mint — Guineas, and  Copper  Coins — Queen  Anne's  Farthings— The  Sources  from  which  the 
English  Mint  has  been  supplied  with  Bullion — Alchemists  encouraged  — The  Mint  as  it  is. 


That  the  Romans  had  a  mint  in  London  is  certain, 
and  probably  on  the  site  of  the  present  Tower, 
in  the  Saxon  times  London  and  Winchester  were 
the  chief  places  for  coining  money ;  but  while  the 
•'  White  City,"  as  Winchester  was  called,  had  only 
six  "  moneyers,"  or  minters,  London  boasted  eight. 
The  chief  mint  of  England  was  in  the  Tower,  at  all 
events  from  the  Conquest  till  rSir,  when,  at  an 
outlay  of  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  money. 
Sir  Robert  Smirke  erected  the  present  quiet  and 
grave  building  which  stands  on  the  east  side  of 
Tower  Hill.  From  those  portals  has  since  flowed 
forth  that  rich  Niagara  of  gold  which  English  wealth 
has  yielded  to  the  ceaseless  cravings  of  national 
expenditure. 

Letting  alone  the  old  Celtic  ring-money  of  the 
ancient  Britons,  and  the  rude  Roman-British  coins 
of  Cunobelin  and  Boadicea,  we  may  commence  a 
brief  notice  of  English  coinage  with  the  silver 
penny  mentioned  in  the  laws  of  Ina,  king  of  the 
West  Saxons  (689 — 726),  the  value  of  which,  says 
Mr.  J.  Saunders,  would  be,  in  current  coin,  2|d. 
The  silver  penny  of  King  Alfred  is  the  earliest 
authentic  Saxon  coin,  says  that  eminent  authority, 
Mr.  Ruding,  which  can  be  traced  with  certainty  to 
the  London  Mint.  The  penny  sank  by  slow 
degrees,  through  the  reigns  of  many  adulterating 
monarchs,  from  the  weight  of  22^  grains  to  about 
7  grains.  The  great  object  of  our  monarchs  seems 
to  have  been  to  depreciate  as  f^r  as  possible  the 
real  value  of  the  coin,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
keep  up  its  current  value.  We  find,  in  fact,  even 
such  a  great  and  chivalrous  king  as  Edward  III. 
shamelessly  trying -to  give  false  weight,  ajid  busy  in 
passing  spurious  money. 

With  this  perpetual  tampering  with  tlae  coin, 


which  pretended  to  a  value  it  never  possessed, 
clippers  and  coiners  of  course  abounded.  They, 
were  given  to  the  crows  by  hundreds,  while  the 
royal  forgers  escaped  scot-free.  Justice,  so  called, 
like  a  spider,  let  the  wasps  escape,  but  was  down 
swift  upon  the  smaller  fry.  Law  was  red-handed 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  swift  and  terrible  in  its 
revenges  on  the  poor  and  the  unprivileged.  In 
the  reign  of  Edgar,  the  penny  having  lost  half  its 
weight,  St.  Dunstan  (himself  an  amateur  goldsmith) 
refused  one  Whitsun-day  to  celebrate  mass  till  three 
of  the  unjust  moneyers  had  had  their  guilty  right 
hands  struck  off. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  I.,  when  the  dealers  refused 
to  take  the  current  money  in  the  pubhc  markets, 
the  hot-tempered  monarch  sent  over  a  swift  and 
angry  message  from  Normandy,  to  summon  all  the 
moneyers  of  England  to  appear  at  Winchester 
against  Christmas  Day.  Three  honest  men  alone, 
out  of  ninety-four  of  the  minters,  escaped  mutila- 
tion and  banishment.  In  1312,  when  Pandulph, 
the  Pope's  legate,  excommunicated  King  John  at 
Northampton,  the  king,  who  was  making  quick, 
work  with  a  batch  of  prisoners  (being,  no  doubt, 
not  in  the  best  of  tempers),  ordered  a  priest,  who 
had  coined  base  money,  to  be  immediately  hung. 
Pandulph  at  once  threatened  with  "bell,  book, 
and  candle "  any  one  who  should  dare  touch  the 
Lord's  anointed ;  and  on  King  John  at  last  sur- 
rendering the  priest,  the  legate  at  once  set  the  holy 
rogue  free,  in  contempt  of  the  royal  laws.  As  for 
the  Jews,  who  had  always  an  "itching  palm"  for, 
gold  and  .silver,  and  filed  and  "  sweated "  every 
bezant  they  could  rake  together,  Edward  I.,  in  an 
irresistible  outburst  of  business-like  indignation  and 
religious  zeal,  on  one  occasion  hung  a  batch  of  28? 


tke  Mint;) 


A  PRETTY  STORY  ABOUT  SILVER  GROATS. 


loJ 


of  them.  But  the  prudent  king  did  more  than  this, 
for  he  confirmed  the  privileges  of  the,  Moneyers' 
Company,  and  entrusted  them  with  the  whole 
coinage  of  the  country.  In  the  following  reign  a 
Comptroller  of  the  Mint  was  appointed,  who  was 
to  send  in  his  accounts  distinct  from  those  of  the 
Warden  and  Master.  The  Company  consisted  of 
seven  senior  and  junior  members,  and  a  provost, 
who  undertook  the  whole  coinage  at  fixed  charges. 

With  Henry  III.  English  money,  says  a  good 
authority,  began  to  improve  in  appearance,  and  to 
exhibit  more  variety.  The  gold  penny  of  this 
monarch  passed  current  for  twenty  pence^  This 
was  the  first  English  gold  coinage.  In  the  reign 
of  Edward  I.  silver  halfpennies  and  farthings  were 
for  the  first  time  made  round,  instead  of  square. 
About  this  coinage  there  is  the  following  story. 
An  old  prophecy  of  Merlin  had  declared  that 
whenever  English  money  should  become  round, 
a  Welsh,  prince  would  be  crowned  in  London. 
When  Llewellyn,  the  last  Welsh  prince,  was  slain  by 
Edward,  his  head,  probably  in  ridicule  of  this 
prophecy,  was  crowned  with  willows  and  sent  to 
the  Tower  for  exhibition. 

Edward  III.  (as  national  wealth  increased  national 
wants)  introduced  several  firesh  coins :  a  gold  florin, 
with  its  divisions,  a  gold  noble,  a  groat,  and  a 
half-groat.  The  gold  florin,  which  passed  for  six 
shillings  (now  worth  nineteen),  soon,  gave  place, 
says  Saunders,  to  the  gold  noble  or  rose-noble,  as 
it  was  sometimes  called,  of  the  value  of  6s.  8d., 
or  half  a  mark.  On  one  side  of  this  coin  Edward 
stands  in  a  tall  turreted  galley  in  complete  armour, 
in  reference  probably  to  his  great  naval  victory  over 
the  French  at  Sluys,  when  he  made  an  end  of 
nearly  15,000  of  the  enemy.  The  reverse  bears  a 
cross  fleury,  and  the  mysterious  legend,  "Jesus 
autem  transiens  per  medium  illorum  ibat "  (Jesus, 
however,  passing  over,  went  through  the  midst  of 
them) ;  an  inscription  which  was  traditionally  sup- 
posed to  allude  to  the  fact  of  the  gold  used  for 
the  coin  having  been  made  by  the  famous  alchemist 
LuUy,  who  worked  for  that  purpose  in  the  Tower. 
In  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  the  rose-noble  was  called 
the  rial,  and  promoted  to  the  value  of  los. 

The  silver  groat,  says  an  authority  on  coins, 
derived  its  name  firom  the  French  word  gros,  as 
being  the  largest  silver  coin  then  known. 
•  Of  the  silver  groats  of  Henry  V.'s  reign,  Leake, 
in  his  "History  of  English  Money,"  relates  a  curious 
anecdote  from  Speed.  The  coin  has  on  one  side 
a  cross  (so  that  the  coin  could  be  broken  into  four 
bits),  and  on  the  other  a  head  of  the  young  king, 
the  crown  set  with  three  fleurs-de-lis,  and  the  hair 
flowing  as  Absalom's.     Qa  each  side  of  the  niche 


are  two  small  circlets,  said  to  be  intended  for  eyelet 
holes,  and  to  refer  to  the  following  story.     Towards 
the  close  of  his  reign  Henry  IV.  grew  shaken  in 
his  mind,  and  alarmed  at  his  son's  loose  and  un- 
worthy excesses  with  the  Falstaffs  of  those  days, 
began  to  fear  some  violence  from  his  abandoned 
and    undutiful   son,    "which  when,"  says   Speed, 
"  Prince  Henry  heard  of  by  some   that  favoured 
him  of  the  King's  Council,  in  a  strange  disguise 
he  repaired  to  his  court,  accompanied  with  many 
lords  and   noblemen's  sons.     His  garment  was  a 
gown  of  blue  satin,  wrought  full  of  eyelet  holes, 
and  at  every,  eyelet  the  needle  left   hanging  by 
the   silk   it  was  wrought  with.     About    his  arm 
he  wore  a  dog's  collar,  set  full  of  SS  of  gold,  the 
tirets  thereof  being  most  fine  gold.     Thus  coming 
to  Westminster  and  the  court  of  his  'father,  having 
commanded   his  followers   to  advance  no  farther 
than   the  fire   in   the  hall,  himself,   accompanied 
with  some  of  the  king's  household,  passed  on  to 
his  presence,  and  after  his   duty    and   obeisance 
done,  offered  to   make   known  the  cause    of  his 
coming.     The  king,  weak  then  with  sickness,  and  ^ 
supposing  the  worst,   commanded  himself  to  be 
borne   into  a  withdrawing  chamber,  some  of  his 
lords  attending  upon  him,  before  whose  feet  Prince 
Henry  fell,  and  with  all  reverent  obeisance  spake 
to  him  as  followeth :  '  Most  gracious  sovereign  and 
renowned  father,   the  suspicion  of  disloyalty  and 
divulged  reports    of   my  dangerous    intendments 
towards  your  royal  person  and  crown  hath  enforced 
at  this  time  and  in  this  manner  to  present  myself 
and  life  at  your  Majesty's^dispose.     Some  faults- 
and  rnisspent  time  (with  blushes  I  may  speak  it)  my 
youth  hath  committed,  yet  those  made  much  more 
by  such  fleering  pick-thanks  that  blow  them  stronger  ' 
into  your  unwilling  and  distasteful  ears.     The  name 
of  sovereign  ties  allegiance  to  all ;  but  of  a  father, 
to  a  further  feeling  of  nature's  obedience ;  so  that 
my  sins  were  double  if  such  suggestions  possessed 
my  heart ;  for  the  law  of  God  ordaineth  that  he 
which  doth  presumptuously  against  the  ruler  of  his 
people  shall  not  live,  and  the  child  that  smiteth  his 
father  shall  die  the  death.     So  far,  therefore,  am  I 
from  any  disloyal  attempts  against  the  person  of 
you,  my  father,  and  the  Lord's  anointed,  that  if  I 
knew  any  of  whom  you  stood  in  the  least  danger  or 
fear,  my  hand,  according  to  duty,  should  be  the 
first  to  free  your  suspicion.     Yea,  I  will  most  gladly 
suffer  death  to  ease  your  perplexed  heart ;  and  to 
that  end  I  have  this  day  prepared  myself,  both  by 
confession  of  my  offences  past  and  receiving  the 
blessed  sacrament.     Wherefore  I  humbly  beseech 
your  grace  to  free  your  suspicion   from   all  fear 
conceived  against  me  with  this  dagger,  the  stab 


102 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Mint. 


whereof  I  will  willingly  receive  here  at  your 
Majesty's  hand ;  and  so  doing,  in  the  presence  of 
these  lords,  and  before  God  at  the  day  of  Judg- 
ment, I  clearly  forgive  my  death.'  But  the  king, 
melting  into  tears,  cast  down  the  naked  dagger 
(which  the  prince  delivered  him),  and  raising  his 
prostrate  son,  embraced  and  kissed  him,  confessing 
his  ears  to  have  been  over-credulous  that  way, 
and  promising  never  to  open  them  against  him. 
But  the  prince,  unsatisfied,  instantly  desired  that  at 


sovereign,  double  sovereign,  and  half-sovereign,,  of 
gold,  and  the  testoon,  or  shilling,  of  silver.  The 
Saxons  had  used  the  word  "shilling,"  but  it  now  first 
became  a  current  coin.  The  testoon  borrowed  its 
name  from  the  French  word,  teste,  "  a  head,"  the 
royal  portrait,  for  the  first  time  presented  in  profile. 
Henry  VIII.,  to  his  affectionate  character  as  a 
husband,  and  his  other  virtues,  pointed  out  so 
ably  by  Mr.  Froude,  added  to  them  all  the  merit 
of  being  pre-eminent  even  among  English  monarchs 


PRESS  AND   DIES   FORMERLY  USED  IN   THE  MINT.       (GEORGE   II.) 


least  his  accusers  might  be  produced,  and,  if  con- 
victed, to  receive  punishment,  though  not  to  the  full 
of  their  demerits  ;  to  which  request  the  king  replied 
that,  as  the  offence  was  capital,  so  should  it  be 
examined  by  the  peers,  and  therefore  wiled  him  to 
rest  contented  until  the  next  Parliament.  Thus  by 
his  great  wisdom  he  satisfied  his  father  from  further 
suspicion,  and  recovered  his  love  that  nearly  was 
lost." 

The  gold  angel  (with  St.  Michael  striking  the 
dragon)  and  the  half-angel  were  first  struck  by 
Edward  IV.,  and  although  inferior  in  -value  to  the 
noble  and  half-noble,  were  intended  to  pass  in  their 
room.    Henry  VII.  originated  many  new  coins — the 


for  debasing  the  coinage.  Some  of  the  earlier  coins 
of  this  reign  bear  the  portrait  of  Henry  VII.  One 
coin  stnick  by  Henry  VIII.  was  the  George  noble, 
so  called  from  the  effigy  of  St.  George  and  the 
Dragon,  well  known  to  all  lovers  of  their  sovereign, 
stamped  on  the  reverse.  Heniy  VIII.  also  coined 
a  silver  crown-piece,  which  was,  however,  issued  by 
his  son  Edward,  with  the  half-crown,  sixpence,  and 
threepence.  In  Edward's  reign  the  debasement  of 
coin  grew  more  shameless  than  ever.  There  were 
now  only  three  ounces  of  silver  left  in  the  pound  of 
coinage  metal.  In  one  of  his  plain-spoken  Saxon 
sermons,  old  Latimer  denounced  the  custom  of 
having  ecclesiastics  among  the  comptrollers  of  the 


The  Mint. 


THE  COINAGE. 


103 


to4 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tThe  Mint. 


Mint.  "Isthis  their  calling?"  he  cried.  "Should 
we  have  ministers  of  the  church  to  be  comptrollers 
of  the  Mint?  I  would  fain  know  who  cpmptrolleth 
the  devil  at  home  in  his  parish,  while  he  comp- 
trolleth  the  Mint." 

EHzabeth,  in  these  things  as  in  most  others, 
listened  to  wise  counsellors.  Sir  Thomas  Gresham 
was  earnest  for  a  pure  and  honest  coinage.  The 
silver  was  restored  to  the  fair  standard — eighteen 
pennyworths  of  alloy  in  the  pound'  of  standard 
metal.  The  corrupt  coin  of  her  father  and  brother 
was  called  in,  and  ordered  to  be  melted  -Aown  for 
re-casting.  The  sum  thus  treated  amounted  to 
^^244,000,  which  had  hitherto  passed  current  for 
;^638,ooo.  The  queen  herself  came  to  the  Tower, 
struck  some  pieces  with  her  own  hand,  and  gave 
them  to  her  suite.  The  first  milled  money  (the 
"mill-sixpences"  mentioned  by  Shakespeare)  was 
cdned  in  this  reign,  and  silver  three-halfpenny  and 
three-farthing  pieces  were  also  coined  (vide  our  pre- 
vious account  of  Tokenhouse  Yard)  in  deference 
to  the  national  dislike  of  copper  money. 

The  robbery  by  Charles  I.  of  ;^2oo,ooo  from  the 
Mint,  where  it  had  been  deposited  for  safety  by.  the 
London  merchants,  we  have  before  mentioned. 
Charles  coined  money  suddenly  from  any  Cavalier's 
plate  he  could  obtain.  These  coins  are  often  mere 
rude  lozenges  of  silver,  while  others  are  round  or 
octangular.  Charles  also  struck  ten-shilling  and 
twenty-shilling  pieces.  The  coins  of  the  early  part  of 
Charles's  reign  were  executed  "by  Nicholas  Briot, 
an  admirable  French  engraver ;  but  Cromwell  em- 
ployed Thomas  Simon,  a  pupil  of  Briot,  who  far 
excelled  his  master,  and,  indeed,  any  previous  coin- 
engraver  since  the  time  of  the  Greeks. 

Simon  was  dismissed  by-  Charles  II.,  in  spite  of 
an  incomparable  crown-piece  which  he  executed, 
to  prove  his  skill.  Simon  attained  a  finish  and 
perfection  since  unknown.  In  this  degenerate 
reign  was  struck  the  first  guinea — so  called  from 
being  made  from  gold  brought  from  Guinea  by 
the  African  Company,  whose  badge,  the  elephant, 
appears  on  all  coins  made  from  their  bullion.  The 
antiquarian  crochet,  that  the  name  has  reference  to 
the  French  province  of  Guienne,  is  absurd.  Five- 
guinea  pieces,  two-guineas,  and  half-guineas  were 
also  struck  in  this  reign.  The  copper  coinage 
was  also  now  first  originated,  and  the  Mint  poured 
forth  floods  of  halfpence  and  farthings,  disgraced 
by  the  figure  of  Britannia  modelled  from  one  of 
Charles's  mistresses,  afterwards  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond., Charles  II.  also  coined  tin  farthings  with 
copper  centres.  James,  and  William  and  Maiy, 
continued  these  coins,  and  added  a  halfpenny  of 
the  same  kind.    This  tin  coinage  was  finally  re- 


called in  1693.  Good  kings  strike  good  coins. 
Thus  the  reign  of  William  and  Mary  had  the  purer 
money  (thanks,  probably,  to  the  genius  of  Pater- 
son,  the  originator  of  the  Bank).  It  is  recorded 
that,  in  1695,  572  bags  of  silver  coin  brought  to 
the  Mint,  which  ought  to  have  weighed  over  18,450 
pounds,  only  weighed  a  little  more  than  half.  This 
single  re-coinage,  therefore,  must  have  cost  the 
Government  nearly  two  millions. 

Queen  Anne  struck  no  less  than  six  different 
farthings ;  some  of  these  are  very  scarce.  George  I. 
strilck  the  first  gold  quarter-guinea,  and  for  the 
first  time  coins  bear  the  let'ters  "  F.  D."  (Fidei 
Defensor),  possibly  from  the  fact  that  George  had 
no  religion  at  all,  and  only  guarded  other  people's. 
Gold  seven-shilling  pieces,  and  copper  pennies  and 
twopences,  first  appeared  in  the  reign  of  George  III. 
The  guinea  and  half-guinea  were  withdrawn  in  1 8 1 5,  • 
when  they  were  replaced  by  the  present  sovereign 
and  half-sovereign.  Almost  the  last  new  pieces 
were  the  fourpenny-pieces  of  William  IV.,  in  1836, 
and  that  first  approach  to  the  decimal  system,  the 
florin,  the  most  insipidly  engraved  of  all  our  coins, 
in  1849.  Bronze  coinage  was  issued  on  the  ist  of 
December,  i860. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  from  whence  our  early  mints 
derived  their  bullion.  Edward  I.,  the  authorities 
tell  us,  drew  no  less  than  704  pounds  weight  of 
native  silver  from  Devonshire  in  one  year  alone ; 
and  down  to  the  reign  of  George  I.  money  was 
coined  from  Welsh  and  other  native  mines.  In 
later  times  Peru  sent  its  §ilver,  Mexico  its  gold, 
and,  before  Californian  and  Australian  gold  was  dis- 
coverCid,  the  Ural  mountains  furnished  us  with  ore. 
Our  wars,  more  especially  our  Spanish  wars, 
have  at  times  brought  great  stores  of  the  precious 
metals  to  the  Mint.  The  day  the  eldest  son  of 
George  III.  was  bom  there  arrived  in  London 
twenty  wagons  of  Spanish  silver,  captured  by  the 
Hermiom.  The  treasure  weighed  sixty-five  tons, 
and  was  valued  at  nearly  a  million  sterling.  The 
wagons  were  escorted  by  light  horse  and  marines, 
and  a  band  of  music.  As  they  passed  St.  James's 
Palace  George  III.  and  the  nobility  came  to  the 
windows  over  the  palace-gate  to  see  them  pass. 
In  1804  there  was  a  similar  procession  of  treasure 
from  Spanish  vessels  we  had  dishpnestly  seized 
before  the  open  declaration  of  war.  ,  In  1842  ten 
wagons  brought  to  the  Bank  the  first  portion  of 
the  Chinese  ransom,  amounting  to  two  millions  of 
dollars,  and  weighing  upwards  of  sixty-five  tons. 

For  many  centuries,  as  Mr.  Saunders  has  shown, 
our  kings,  always  in  want  of  money,  encouraged 
alchemists,  who  believed  that  they  could  transmute 
baser  metals  to  gold,  if  they  could  only  discover 


The  iMint.] 


THE    MINT  AS   IT   IS. 


105 


their  common  base.  Thus  Lully  worked  in  the 
Tower  for, Edward  I.  Edward  III.,  Henry  VI.,  and 
Edward  IV.  also  seem  to  have  been  deluded  by 
impostors  or  fanatics  to  the  same  behef  which 
Chaucer  ridiculed  so  admirably. 

A  modem  essayist  has  graphically  described  the 
present  method  of  coining  money.  "The  first 
place,"  he  says,  "  that  I  was  conducted  to  was  the 
Central  Office,  where  the  ingots  of  gold  are  weighed 
when  they  come  in  from  the  Bank  of  England,  or 
from  other  sources,  and  where  a  small  piece  is  cut 
off  each  slab  for  the  Mint  assayer  to  test  the  whole 
by.  A  nugget  of  gold  may  be  of  any  shape,  and 
is  generally  an  irregular  dead  yellow  lump,  that 
looks  like  pale  ginger-bread  ;  but  an  ingot  of  gold 
is  a  small  brick.  After  the  precious  metals  have 
been  scrupulously  weighed  in  the,  Central  Office, 
they  are  sent  to  the  Melting  House  dowii  an  iron 
tramway.  All  the  account  books  in  the  Mint  are 
balanced  by  weight,  so  that  even  where  there  is  so 
much  money  there  is  no  use  made  of  the  three 
columns  bearing  the  familiar  headings  of  £,  s.  d. 
The  Melting  House  is  an  old-fashioned  structure, 
having  what  I  may  call  the  gold  kitchen  on  one  side, 
and  the  silver  kitchen  on  the  other,  with  just  such  a 
counting-house  between  the  two — well  provided 
with  clean  weights,  scales,  well-bourid  books,  and 
well-framed  almanacks — as  George  Barnwell  may 
have  worked  in  with  his  uncle  before  he  became 
gay.  The  counting-house  commands  a  view  of 
both  melting  kitchens,  that  the  superintendents  may 
overlook  the  men  at  their  work.  Although  the 
Mint  contains  nearly  a  hundred  persons  resident 
within  its  walls — forming  a  little  colony,  with 
peculiar  habits,  tastes,  and  class  feelings  of  its  own 
— a  great  many  of  the  workpeople  are  drawn  from  i 
the  outer  world.  Dinner  is  provided  for  them  all 
within  the  building ;  and  when  they  pass  in  to  their 
day's  work,  between  the  one  soldier  and  the  two 
policemen  at  the  entrance  gate,  they  are  not  allowed 
to  depart  until  their  labour  is  finished,  and  the 
books  of  their  department  are  balanced,  to  see  that 
nothing  is  missing.  If  all  is  found  right,  a  properly 
signed  certificate  is  given  to  each  man,  and  he  is 
then  permitted  to  go  his  way. 

"The  gold  kitchen  and  the  silver  kitchen  are 
never  in  operation  on  the  same  day,  and  the  first 
melting  process  that  I  w^s  invited  to  attend  was  the 
one  in  the  latter  department.  The  presiding  cook, 
wel}  protected  with  leather  apron  and  thick  coarse 
gloves,  was  driving  four  ingot  bricks  of  solid  silver 
into  a  thick  plumbago  crucible,  by  the  aid  of  a 
crowbar.  When  these  four  pieces  were  closely 
jammed  down  to  a  level  with  the  surface  of  the 
melting-pot,  he  seasoned  it  ^vith  a  sprinkling  of 


base  coin,  by  way  of  alloy ;  placing  the  crucible  in 
one  of  the  circular  recesses  over,  the  fiery  ovens  to 
boil.  The  operations  in  the  gold  kitchen  are 
similar  to  this,  except  that  they  are  on  a  much 
smaller  scale.  A  crucible  is  there  made  to  boil 
three  or  four  ingots,  worth  from  four  to  five  thou- 
sand pounds  sterling;  and  where  machinery  is 
employed  in  the  silver  kitchen,  much  of  the  work 
is  done  in  the  gold  kitchen  with  long  iron  tongs 
that  are  held  in  the  hand. 

"When  the  solid  metal  has  become  fluid,  a  re- 
volving crane  is  turned  over  the  copper,  and  the 
glowing,  red-hot  crucible  is  drawn  from  its  fiery 
recess,  casting  its  heated  breath  all  over  the  apart- 
ment, and  is  safely  landed  in  a  rest.  This  rest  is 
placed  over  a  number  of  steel  moulds,  that  are  made 
up,  when  cool,  like  pieces  of  a  puzzle,  and  which 
look  like  a  large  metal  mouth-organ  standing  on 
end,  except  that  the  tubes  there  present  are  square 
in  shape  and  all  of  the  same  length.  The  crucible 
rest  is  acted  upon  by  the  presiding  cook  and 
another  man,  through  the  machinery  in  which  it  is 
placed,  and  is  made  to  tilt  up  at  certain  stages, 
according  to  regulated  degrees.  When  the  molten 
metal,  looking  like  greasy  milk,  has  poured  out  of 
the  crucible  till  it  has  filled  the  first  tube  of  the 
metal  mouth-organ,  sounding  several  octaves  of 
fluid  notes,  like  the  tone  of  bottle-emptying,  the 
framework  of  moulds  is  moved  on  one  stage  by  the 
same  machinery,  so  as  to  bring  the  second  tube 
under  the  mouth  of  the  crucible,  which  is  then 
tilted  up  another  degree,  This  double  action  is 
repeated  until  the  whole  blinking,  white-heated 
interior  of  the  crucible  is  presented  to  my  view, 
and  nothing  remains  within  it  but  a  few  lumps  of 
red-hot  charcoal. 

"  The  next  step  is  to  knock  asunder  the  frame- 
work of  moulds,  to  take  out  the  silver,  now  hardened 
into  long  dirty-white  bars,  and  to  place  these  bars 
first  in  a  cold-water  bath,  and  then  upon  a  metal 
counter  to  cool.  These  bars  are  all  cast  according 
to  a  size  which  experience  has  taught  to  be  exceed- 
ingly eligible  for  conversion  into  coin. 

"  From  the  silver-melting  process,  I  was  taken 
to  the  gold-coining  department,  the  first  stage  in 
dealing  with  the  precious  metals  being,  as  I  have 
before  stated,  the  same.  Passing  from  bars  of 
silver  to  bars  of  gold,  I  entered  the  Great  Rolling 
Room,  and  began  my  first  actual  experience  in  the 
manufacture  of  a  sovereign. 

"  The  bars  of  gold,  worth  about  twelve  hundred 
pounds  sterling,  that  are  taken  into  the  Great 
Rolling  Room  are  about  twenty-one  inches  long, 
one  and  three-eighths  of  an  inch  broad,  and  an  inch 
thick.    As  tjiey.  lie  upon  the  heavy  truck,  before 


io6 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Mint 


they  are  subjected  to  the  action  of  the  ponderous 
machinery  in  this  department,  they  look  like  cakes 
of  very  bright  yellow  soap. 

"  An  engine  of  thirty  horse-power  sets  in  motion 
the  machinery  of  this  room,  whose  duty  it  is  to 
flatten  the  bars  until  they  come  out  in  ribands  of  an 
eighth  of  an  inch  thick,  and  considerably  increased 
in  length.  This  process,  not  unlike  mangling,  is 
performed  by  powerful  rollers,  and  is  repeated 
until  the  ribands  are  reduced  to  the  proper  gauged 
thickness,  after  which  they  are  divided  and  cut  into 
the  proper  gauged  lengths.  Having  undergone  one 
or  two  annealings  in  brick  ovens  attached  to  this 
department,  these  fillets  may  be  considered  ready 
for  another  process,  which  takes  place,  after  twelve 
hours'  delay,  in  a  place  that  is  called  the  Drawing 
Room. 

"  In  this  department  the  coarser  work  of  the 
Rolling  Room  is  examined  and  perfected.  The 
fillets  or  ribands  of  gold,  after  being  subjected  to 
another  rolling  process,  the  chief  object  of  which 
has  been  to  thin  both  ends,  are  taken  to  a  machine 
called  a  draw-bench,  where  their  thickness  is  per- 
fectly equalised  from  end  to  end.  The  thin  end 
of  the  golden  riband  is  passed  between  two  finely- 
polished  fixed  steel  cylinders  into  the  mouth  of  a 
part  of  the  concrete  machine,  which  is  called  a 
'  dog.'  This  dog  is  a  small  iron  carriage,  travel- 
ling upon  wheels  over  a  bench,  under  which  re- 
volves an  endless  chain.  In  length  and  appear- 
ance this  dog  is  like  a  seal,''with  a  round,  thick 
head,  containing  two  large  eyes  that  are  formed  of 
screws,  and  having  a  short-handled  inverted  metal 
mallet  for  a  hat.  Its  mouth  is  large  and  acts  like 
a  vice,  and  when  it  has  gripped  the  thin  end  of  the 
golden  riband  in  its  teeth,  its  tail,  is  affixed  to  the 
endless  chain,  which  causes  it  to  move  slowly  along 
the  bench,  dragging  the  riband  through  the  fixed 
cylinders.  When  the  riband  has  passed  through 
its  whole  length,  the  thin  end  at  its  other  extremity 
coming  more  quickly  through  the  narrow  space 
between  the  cylinders  causes  it  to  release  itself 
with  a  sudden  jerk,  and  this  motion  partly  raises 
the  mallet  cap  of  the  backing  dog,  which  opens  its 
broad  mouth,  and  drops  its  hold  of  the  metal 
badger  which  it  has  completely  drawn.  A  work- 
man now  takes  the  fillet,  and  punches  out  a  cir- 
cular piece  the  exact  size  of  a  sovereign,  and 
weighs  it..  If  the  golden  dump  or  blank,  as  it  is 
called,  is  heavy,  the  dog  and  the  cylinders  are  put 
in  requisition  once  more  to  draw  the  riband 
thinner ;  but  if  the  weight  is  accurate  (and  perfect 
accuracy  at  this  stage  is  indispensable),  the  smooth, 
dull,  impressionless  counter,  looking  like  the  brass 
button  of  an  Irishman's  best  blue  coat,  is  trans- 


ferred to  another  department,   called   the  Press 
Cutting  Room. 

"  In  this  room  twelve  cutting-presses,  arranged  on 
a  circular  platform,  about  two  feet  in  height,  sur- 
round an  upright  shaft  and  a  horizontal  revolving 
fly-wheel;  and  at  the  will  of  twelve  boys,  who 
attend  and  feed  the  presses,  the  punches  attached 
to  the  presses  are  made  to  rise  and  fall  at  the  rate 
of  a  stroke  a  second.  The  ribands,  cut  into  handy 
lengths,  are  given  to  the  boys,  who  push  them 
under  the  descending  punches  as  sliding-frames 
are  pushed  under  table  microscopes.  The  blanks 
fall  into  boxes,  handily  place'd  to  receive  them,  and 
the  waste — like  all  the  slips  and  cuttings,  trial  dumps, 
failures,  &c.,  in  every  department-^is  weighed  back 
to  the  melting  kitchen  for  the  next  cooking  day. 

"From  the  Weighing  Room  I  followed  the  dumps 
that  were  declared  to  be  in  perfect  condition  to  a 
department  called  the  Marking  Room,  where  they 
received  their  first  surface  impression.  This  room 
contains  eight  machines,  whose  duty  it  is  to  raise 
a  plain  rim,  or  protecting  edge,  round  the  sur- 
face circumference  of  the  golden  blanks.  This 
is  done  by  dropping  them  down  a  tube,  which 
conducts  them  horizontally  to  a  bed  prepared  for 
them,  where  they  are  pushed  backwards  and 
forwards  between  two  grooved  '  cheeks '  made  of 
steel,  which  raise  the  necessary  rim  by  pressure. 

"  From  this  department  I  am  taken  by  my  guide 
to  a  long  bakehouse  structure,  called  the  Anneal- 
ing Room.  Here  I  find  several  men-cooks  very 
busy  with  the  golden-rimmed  blanks,  making  them 
into  pies  of  three  thousand  each,  in  cast-iron  pans 
with  wrought-iron  lids,  and  closed  up  with  moist 
Beckenham  clay.  These  costly  pies  are  placed  in 
large  ovens,  where  they  are  baked  in  intense  heat 
for  an  hour,  and  then  each  batch  is  drawn  as  its 
time  expires,  and  is  not  opened  before  the  pan 
becomes  cool.  The  grey  plastic  loam  which  was 
placed  round  the  dish  is  baked  to  a  red  crisp 
cinder,  and  the  golden  contents  of  the  pie  are 
warranted  not  to  tarnish  after  this  fiery  ordeal  by 
coming  in  contact  with  the  atmosphere. 

"I  next  follow  the  golden  annealed  blanks  to 
the  Blanching  Room,  where  they  are  put  into  a 
cold-water  bath  to  render  them  cool ;  after  which 
they  are  washed  in  a  hot  weak  solution  of  sulphuric 
acid  and  water  to  remove  all  traces  of  surface 
impurity.  Finally,  after  another  wash  in  pure 
water,  they  are  conveyed  to  a  drying-stove,  where 
they  are  first  agitated  violently  in  a  heated  tub, 
then  turned  into  a  sieve,  and  tossed  about  out  of 
sight,  amongst  a  heap  of  beechwood  sawdust,  kept 
hot  upon  an  oven.  After  this  playful  process,  they 
are  sifted  into  the  upper  world  once  more,  3,ni 


Neighbouchood  of  the  Tower.] 


ALLHALLOWS,  BARKING. 


107 


then  transferred  to  trays,  like,  butchers'  trays,  which 
are  conveyed  to  the  Stamping  Room. 

"The  Coining-press  Room  contains  eight  screw 
presses,  worked  from  above  by  irivisible  machinery. 
Below,  there  is.  a  cast-iron  platform ;  and  above, 
huge  fly-aims,  full  six  feet  long,  and  weighty  at 
their  ends,  which  travel  noisily  to  and  fro,  carrying 
with  them  the  vertical  screw,  and  raising  and  de- 
pressing the  upper  die.  In  front  of  each  press, 
when  the  machinery  is  in  motion,  a  boy  is  sitting 
to  fill  the  feeding-tube  with  the  bright  plain  dumps 
of  gold  that  have  come  from  the  sawdust  in  the 
Bknching  Room.  On  the  bed.  of  the  press  is 
fixed  one  of  Mr.  Wyon's  head-dies,  a  perfect  work 
of  art,  that  is  manufactured  in  the  building;  and 
the  self-acting  feeding  apparatus — a  slide  moving 
backwards  and  forwards,  much  the  same  as  in  the 
delicate  weighing-machines  —  places  the  golden 
dumps  one  by  one  on  the  die.  The  boy  in  at-'* 
tendance  now  starts  some  atmospheric  pressure 
machinery,  by  pulling  a  starting-line;  the  press 
and  upper  die  are  brought  down  upon  the  piece 
of  unstamped  gold  that  is  lying  on  the  lower  die, 
along  with  a  collar  that  is  milled  on  its  inner  cir- 
cumference, and  which  closes  upon  the  coin  with 


a  spring,  preventing  its  undue  expansion,  and  at 
one  forcible  but  well-directed  blow,  the  blank 
dump  has  received  its  top,  bottom,  and  side  im- 
pression, and  has  become  a  perfect  coin  of  the 
realm.  The  feeder  advances  with  steady  regularity, 
and  while  it  conveys  another  dump  to  the  die,  it 
chips  the  perfect  sovereign  down  an  inclined 
plane;  the  upper •  machinery  comes  down  again; 
the  dump  is  covered  out  of  sight,  to  appear  in  an 
instant  as  a  coin;  other  dumps  advance,  are 
stamped,-  are  pushed  away,  and  their  places  imme- 
diately taken.  Some  sovereigns  roll  on  one  side 
instead  of  going  over  to  the  inclined  plane,  others 
lie  upon  the  edge  of  the  machinery,  or  under  the 
butcher's  tray  that  holds  the  dumps,  and  the  boys 
take  even  less  notice  of  them  than  if  they  were  so 
many  peppermint  drops. 

"  The  metal  has  passed  no  locked  doorway  in  its 
progress  without  being  weighed  out  of  one  depart- 
ment into  another;  and  it  undergoes  yet  one  more 
weighing  before  it  is  placed  into  bags  for  delivery 
to  the  Bank  of  England  or  private  bullion-holders, 
and  consigned  to  a  stone  and  iron  strongrroom, 
containing  half  a  million  of  coined  money,  until 
the  hour  of  its  liberation  draws  nigh." 


CHAPTER  XII. 
NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  THE  TOWER   {fontinued). 

The  Jewry-Allhallows  Church— Terrible  Gunpowder  Accident  near  the  Church— Famous  Men  buried  at  Allhallows— Monumental  Brasses— 
St.  Olave  s  Church— Dr.  W.  Turnei^Sir  John  Mjnnes— A  Well-known  Couplet— Pepys'  Wife—"  Poor  Tom  "—Sir  J.  Radcliffe— Antiquities 
of  the  Church— Pepys  on  Allhallows— St.  Dunstan's-iii-the-East- Wren's  Repairs— The  Register  Books— Old  Roman  Tower— The  Trinity 
House  and  its  Corporation- The  Present  Building— Decorations  and  Portraits— Famous  Masters— A  Bit  of  Old  Wall. 


Stow  describes  a  Jewish  quarter  near  the  Tower. 
"  There  was,"  he  says,  "  a  place  within  the  liberties 
of  the  Tower  called  the  Jewry,  because  it  was 
inhabited  by  Jews,  where  there  happened,  22nd 
Henry  III.,  a  robbery  and  a  murther  to  be  com- 
mitted by  William  Fitz  Bernard,  and  Richard  his 
servant ;  who  came  to  the  hou«e  of  Joce,  a  Jew, 
and  there  slew  him  and  his  wife  Henna.  The  said 
William  was  taken  at  St.  Saviour's  for  a  certain 
silver  cup,  and  was  hanged.  Richard  was  called 
for,  and  was  outlawed.  One  Miles  le  Espicer, 
who  was  with  them,  was  wounded,  _and  fled  to  a 
church,  and  died  in  it.  No  attachment  was  made 
by  the  sheriffs,  because  it  happened  in  the  Jewry ; 
and  so  belonged  not  to  the  sheriffs,  but  to  the 
Constable  of  the  Tower." 

The  churches  near  Tower  Hill  demand  a  brief 
notice.  That  of  Allhallows,  Barking,  and  Our  Lady, 
in  Tower  Street,  Stow  mentions  as  having,  in  the 


early  ages,  a  "faire  chapel"  of  Our  Lady  on  the 
north  side,  founded  by  Richard  I.,  whose  lion  heart, 
as  the  erroneous  tradition  went,  was  buried  there, 
under  the  high  altar.  Edward  I.  gave  the  chapel 
a  statue  of  the  Virgin.  Edward  IV.  permitted  his 
cousin,  John  Earl  of  Worcester,  to  form  a  'brother- 
hood there,  and  gave  them  the  advowson  of  Streat- 
ham  and  part  of  a  Wiltshire  priory  for  maintenance. 
Richard  III.  rebuilt  the  chapel,  and  founded  a 
college  of  priests,  consisting  of  a  dean  and  six 
canons,  and  made  Edmund  Chaderton,  a  great 
favourite  of  his,  dean.  The  college  was  suppressed 
and  pulled  down  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  The 
ground  remained  a  garden  plot  till  the  reign  of 
EUzabeth,  when  merchants'  warehouses  were  built 
there  by  Sir  William  Winter,  whose  wife  was  buried 
in  the  church. 

The  church  derives  its  name  of  Barking  from  the 
vicarage  having  originally  belonged  to  the  abbey 


io8 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Neighbourhood  of  the  Tower. 


and  convent  of  Barking,  in  Essex.  The  church  was 
much  injured  in  1649  by  an  accidental  explosion 
of  twenty-seven  barrels  of  gunpowder  at  a  ship- 
chandler's  near  the  churchyard.  A  Mr.  Leyborn, 
quoted  by  Strype,  gives  the  following  account  of 
this  calamity : — 

"Over  against  the  wall  of  Barking  churchyard," 
says  Leyborn,  "a  sad  and  lamentable  accident 
befell  by  gunpowder,  in  this  manner.  One  of  the 
houses  in  this  place  was  a  ship-chandler's,  who,  upon 


will  instance  two,  the  one  a  dead,  the  other  a  living 
monument.  In  the  digging,  as  I  said  before,  they 
found  the  mistress  of  the  house  of  the  Rose  Tavern, 
sitting  in  her  bar,  and  one  of  the  drawers  standing 
by  the  bar's  side  with  a  pot  in  his  hand,  only  stifled 
with  dust  and  smoke ;  their  bodies  being  preserved 
whole  by  means  of  great  timbers  falling  cross  one 
upon  another :  this  is  one.  Another  is  this  :  the 
next  morning  there  was  found  upon  the  upper  leads 
of  Barking  Church  a  young  child  lying  in  a  cradle 


THE  CHURCH  OF  ALLHALLOWS,    BARKING,    IN    1750, 


the  4th  of  January,  1649,  about  seven  of  the  clock 
at  night,  being  busy  in  his  shop  about  barrelling 
up  of  gunpowder,  it  took  fire,  and  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  blew  up.  not  only  that,  but  all  the  houses 
thereabouts,  to  the  number  (towards  the  street  and 
in  back  alleys)  of  fifty  or  sixty.  The  number  of 
persons  destroyed  by  this  blow  could  never  be 
known,  for  the  next  house  but  one  was  the  Rose 
Tavern,  a  house  never  at  that  time  of  night  but 
full  of  company;  and  that  day  the  parish  dinner 
was  m  that  house.  And  in  three  or  four  days  after, 
digging,  they  continually  found  heads,  arms,  legs,' 
and  half  bodies,  miserably  torn  and  scorched,  be- 
sides many  whole  bodies,  not  so  much  as  their 
clothes  singed.    In  the  course  of  this  accident  I 


as  newly  laid  in  bed,  neither  the  child  nor  cradle 
having  the  least  sign  of  any  fire  or  other  hurt. 
It  was  never  known  whose  child  it  was,  so  that 
one  of  the  parish  kept  it  for  a  memorial;  for  in 
the  year  1666  I  saw  the  child,  grown  to  be  then 
a  proper  maiden,  and  came  to  the  man  that  had 
kept  her  all  that  time,  where  he  was  drinking  at  a 
tavern  with  some  other  company  then  present,  and 
he  told  us  she  was  the  child  that  was  so  found  in 
the  cradle  upon  the  church  leads  as  aforesaid." 

Allhallows,  from  its  vicinity  to  the  Tower,  was 
the  burial-place  of  several  State  criminals,  and  many 
minor  Court  officials;  the  poet  Eari  of  Surrey, 
Bishop  Fisher,  and  the  narrow-brained  Laud,  were 
buned  there,  but  have  been  since  removed.    The 


Neighbourhood  of  the  Tower.] 


A  BRAVE  AND  WISE  DRAPER. 


109 


six  or  seven  brasses  preserved  here  are,  says  an 
authority,  among  the  best  in  London.  The  finest 
is  a  Flemish  brass,  Andrew  Evyngar,  a  Salter,  and  his 
wife,  circa  1535.  There  is  also  an  injured  brass  of 
William  Thynne,  Clerk  of  the  Green  Cloth,  Clerk 
of  the  Kitchen,  and  afterwards  "  Master   of  the 


and  two  other  reformed  preachers,  to  preach  thirty 
sermons  (two  a  week)  at  AUhallows,  which,  he  said, 
would  do,  more  good  than  having  masses  said 
for  his  soul.  He  also  forbad -at  his  funeral  the 
superstitious  use  of  candles,  the  singing  of  dirges, 
and  the  tolling  of  bells.     In  the  chancel  Strype 


ST.  DUNSTAN'S-tN-THE-EAST. 


Honourable  Household  of  King  Henry  VIH.,  our 
Sovereign  Lord."  This  worthy  man  published  the 
first  edition  of  the  entire  works  of  Chaucer,  in  1532. 
Strype  mentions  the  monument  of  Humfry  Men- 
mouth,  a  draper  and  sheriff,  who  protected  Tindal, 
and  encouraged  him  in  his  translation  of  the  Testa- 
ment, for  which  he  was  thrown  into  the  Tower 
by  Sir  Thomas  More.  In  his  will  he  appointed 
Bishop  Latimer,  Dr.  Barnes  (the  "  Hot  GpspeJler"), 
68— VOL.   IJ. 


mentions  the  monument  of  Dr.  Kettlewell,  a  famous 
controversial  divine,  who  wrote  "  Measures  of 
Christian  Obedience,"  and  refused  to  take  the 
oaths  on  the  accession  of  William  of  Orange. 

In  the  pavement  of  the  south  aisle,  near  the 
chancel,  is  a  large  brass,  to  the  memory  of  John 
Rulche,  who  died  in  1498.  There  is  another,  with 
small  figures  of  a  man  and  his  two  wives,  with  the 
date  150Q.     From  the  mouths  of  the  figures  rise 


no 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Neighbourhood  of  the  Tower. 


labels  (as  in  old  caricatures),  with  pious  invoca- 
tions of  "  Libera  nos,"  and  "  Salve  nos."  Another 
brass  of  a  nameless  knight  and  his  lady  is  dated 
1546 ;  and  in  the  north  aisle  there  is  an  ecclesiastic 
and  a  la:dy,  date  probably,  says  Mr.  Godwin,  1437. 
On  a  pillar  in  the  south  aisle  is  a  brass  plate,  with 
doggerel  verses  to  the  memory  of  Armac  Aymer, 
Governor  of  the  Pages  of  Honour,  or  Master  of  the 
Henchmen,  to  Henry  VIII.,  Edward  VI.,  Mary,  and 
Ehzabeth,  having  served  in  the  royal  household 
fifty-six  years.  At  the  north  side  of  the  chancel 
stands  a  panelled  altar  tomb,  of  carved  granite, 
crowned  with  strawberry  leaves.  Under  a  canopy 
are  two  groups  of  figures — the  father  and  three 
sons,  the  mother  and  four  daughters.  Strype  seems 
to  erroneously  connect  this  tomb  with  that  of 
Thomas  Pilke,  who  founded  a  chantry  here  in  1392 
(Richard  II.).  Pilke's  is  more  likely  the  canopied 
one  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  church,  with  a 
plate  of  brass,  on  which  is  represented  the  resur- 
rection of  Christ. 

The  earliest  legend  connected  with  this  very  old 
church  is  one  relating  to  Edward  I.  That  warlike 
king  had  a  vision,  which  commanded  him  to  erect 
an  image  of  the  Virgin  at  Allhallows  Barking,  pro-' 
mising  him  if  he  did,  visited  it  five  times  every 
year,  and  kept  the  chapel  in  repair,  he  should  be 
victorious  over  all  nations,  should  be  King  of  Eng- 
land when  his  father  died,  and  conqueror  of  Wales 
and  Scotland.  To  the  truth  of  this  vision  Edward 
swore  before  the  Pope,  and  obtained  a  dispensation 
of  forty  days'  penance  for  all  true  penitents  who 
should  contribute  towards  the  lights,  ornaments, 
and  repairs  of  the  chapel,  and  should  pray  for  the 
soul  of  King  Richard,  whose  heart  was,  as  it  is 
said,  ■  buried  before  the  high  altar.  The  pilgrims 
and  worshippers  of  Our  Lady  of  Barking  continued 
numerous  till  the  Reformation  came  and  broke  up 
these  empty  superstitions. 

In  1639  the  Puritan  House  of  Commons  pro- 
ceeded against  Dr.  Layfield,  the  vicar  of  All- 
hallows,  who  had  introduced  various  Popish  inno- 
vations. The  parishioners  complained  that  he  had 
altered  the  position  of  the  communion-table,  set 
up  various  images,  had  erected  a  cross  over  the 
font,  placed  the  letters  I.H.S.  in  forty-one  various 
places,  and  also  that  he  had  bowed  several  times 
during  the  administration  of  the  sacrament.  The 
vicar,  however,  contrived  to  escape  punishment.  At 
the  Great  Fire  this  interesting  church  had  a  narrow 
escape,  the  vicarage  being  burned  down.  The 
present  brick  steeple  was  built  in  1659,  when  the 
churchwardens  put  over  the  clock,  which  projects 
from  the  front  of  the  chiu-ch,  the  figure  of  an 
angel  sounding  a  trumpet.     In  1675  the  succeeding 


churchwardens  removed  this  figure,  and  placed  it 
over  the  altar;  but  the  clergyman  being  seen  to 
perform  genuflexions  before  it,  the  churchwardens 
were  indicted,  and  compelled  to  burn  the  image. 

The  church,  from  an  architectural  point  of  view, 
is  well  worth  a  visit.  The  round  massive  pillars 
and  sharp-pointed  arches  of  the  west  end  date 
from  the  begiiming  of  the  thirteenth  century,  while 
the  eastern  portion  of  the  church  is  Perpendicular 
and  Late  Decorated.  There  is  a  clerestory,  con- 
taining seven  windows,  and  the  windows  of  the 
north  and  south  aisles  are  of  different  periods.  It 
is  said  that  many  years  ago  the  basement  of  a  wall 
was  found  running  across  the  building  near  the 
pulpit,  showing  an  earlier  and  a  later  structure. 
The  roof  and  ceiling  were  constructed  in  18 14,  at 
a  cost  of  _;^7,ooo.  The  marble  font  has  'a  carved 
wooden  cover  (attributed,  of  course,  to  Gibbons), 
which  represents  three  angels  plucking  flowers  and 
fruit.  On  the  south  side  of  the  building  is  an  old 
staircase  turret,  which  formerly  led  to  the  roof,  but 
is  now  stopped  up.  In  the  porch,  on  the  same 
side,  is  a  good  Tudor  doorway. 

Dr.  Hickes,  the  great  scholar  who  wrote  the 
"Thesaurus,"  was  vicar  of  Allhallows  for  six 
years  (1680-6).  Hickes,  a  Yorkshireman,  bom  in 
1642,  was  chaplain,  in  1676,  to  the  Duke  of 
Lauderdale,  the  mischievous  High  Commissioner 
of  Scotland,  and  was  sent  to  Charles's  court,  with 
Bishop  Burnet,  to  report  the  discontent  of  the 
Scotch.  He  was  presented  to  the  living  of  All- 
hallows by  Archbishop  Sancroft.  At  the  Restora- 
tion of  1688,  Dr.  Hickes  refused  to  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance,  and  afterwards  went  over  to  France, 
to  see  King  James,  on  the  dangerous  mission  of 
arranging  the  consecration  of  fresh  bishops.  Hickes 
was  very  learned  in  the  fathers  and  in  the  old 
northern  languages,  and  wrote  much  for  Divine 
right. 

Another  church  of  interest  in  this  neighbour- 
hood is  St.  Olave's,  Hart  Street,  at  the  corner  of 
Seething  Lane.  This  saint  was  the  warlike  King  of 
Norway  who  helped  Ethelred  against  the  Danes. 
There  was  a  church  on  this  spot  at  least  as  long 
ago  as  13 19,  for  we  find  in  that  year  the  prior  and 
brethren  of  the  Holy  Cross  paying  two  marks  and 
a  half  per  annum  to  the  rector,  and  his  successors 
for  ever,  for  any  damage  that  might  accrue  to  them 
by  the  building  of  the  priory.  The  patronage  was' 
first  vested  in  the  Nevil  family,  then  in  that  of 
Lord  Windsor;  but  in  165 1  it  was  bequeathed  to 
the  parish  by  Sir  Andrew  Riccard,.  who  was  Sheriff 
of  London  in  165 1.  Maitland  mentions,  in  the 
middle  aisle,  a  brass  of  "  a  King  of  Arms,  in  his 
coat  and  crown,"  date  1427.     The  most  ancient 


Neighbourhood  of  the  Tower.]       A  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY  FUNERAL. 


Ill 


brass  now  to  be  found  is  apparently  that  to  the 
memory  of  John.Orgene  and  Ellyne  his  wife,  date 
1584.  Near  this  is  a  fine  monument  to  that  first 
of  our  English  herbaUsts,  Dr.  William  Turner,  who 
died  in  16 14.  This  deep  student  was  a  violent 
Reformer,  whom  Bishop  Gardiner  threw  into  prison. 
On  his  release  he  went  to  live  abroad,  and  at 
Basle  became  the  friend  of  Gesner,  the  great  natu- 
ralist. In  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  he  was  made 
Dean  of  Wells  and  chaplain  to  the  Protector 
Somerset,  in  which  former  dignity  Elizabeth  rein- 
stated him. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  communion-table  there 
was,  according  to  Strype,  a  monument  to  that 
brave  and  witty  man,  Sir  John  Mennes,  or  Minnes, 
vice-admiral  to.  Charles  I.,  and,  after  the  Restora- 
tion, Governor  of  Dover  Castle,  and  Chief  Comp- 
troller of  the  Navy.  Born  in  the  year  1598,  and 
holding  a  place  in  the  Navy  Office  in  the  reign  of 
James  I.,  Minnes,  after  many  years  of  honest  and 
loyal  service,  died  in  1670,  at  the  Navy  Office  in 
Seething  Lane,  where  he  must  have  spent  half-  his 
long-shore  life.  He  is  generally  spoken  of  as  a 
brave,  honest,  generous  fellow,  and  the  best  of  all 
good  company.  Some  of  his  poems  are  contained 
in  a  volume  entitled  "The  Muses'  Recreation," 
1656,  and  he  was  the  author  of  a  clever  scoffing 
ballad  on  his  brother  poet.  Sir  John  Suckling's, 
fooHsh  vaunts  and  miserable  failure.  In  "The 
Muses'  Recreation"  we  find  the  celebrated  lines, 
so  often  quoted,  and  which  are  almost  universally 
attributed  to  Butler,  whose  Hudibrastic  manner 
they  so  exactly  resemble — 

"  For  he  that  fights  and  runs  away. 
May  live  to  fight  another  day." 

In  the  chancel,  near  the  monument  of  Lord 
Bayning,  mentioned  by  one  of  StoVs  commen- 
tators as  then  hung  with  coat  of  arms  and  streamers, 
is  a  monument  to  the  wife  of  Samuel  Pepys,  the 
Secretary  to  the  Navy,  who  wrote  the  delightful 
stultifying  "  Diary ''  which  we  have  so  often  quoted. 
Who  that  has  read  it  can  forget  the  portrait  of  that 
buxom  beauty  who  was  so  jealous  of  pretty  Mrs. 
Knipp,  the  actress ;  or  how  Pepys  took  her,  Jan. 
10, 1660,  to  the  great  wedding  of  a  Dutch  inerchant, 
at  Goring  House,  where  there  was  "great  state,  cost, 
and  a  noble  company  ?  But  among  all  the  beauties 
there,"  says  the  uxorious  husband,  "my  wife  was 
thought  the  greatest."  Does  he  not  record  how 
she  took  to  wearing  black  patches,  and  how  she 
began  to  study  dancing  and  limning  ?  Mrs.  Pepys 
was  the  daughter  of  a  French  Huguenot  gentle- 
man, who  had  been  gendeman  carver  to  Queen 
Henrietta.,  and  was  dismissed  for  striking  one  of 


the  queen's  friars,  who  had  rebuked  him  for  not 
attending  mass.  Mrs.  Pepys  had  been  brought 
up  in  a  Ursuline  convent  in  France,  and  this  fact 
was  probably  remembered  when  the  Titus  Gates 
party  endeavoured  to  connect  poor  Pepys  with 
the  (supposed)  murder  of  Sir  Edmundbury  Godfrey. 
In  this  same  church  was  also  buried  Thomas 
Pepys,  brother  of  the  diary-keeper,  whose  funeral 
Pepys  records  with  a  curious  mixture  of  grief, 
thrift,  and  want  of  feeling.  The  entry  notes  some 
curious  customs  of  the  period  : — 

"  1 8th  March,  1664.  Up  ^betimes,  and  walked  to 
my  brother's,  where  a  great  while  putting  things  in 
order  against  anon ;  and  so  to  Wotton,  my  shoe- 
maker, and  there  got  a  pair  of  shoes  blacked  on  the 
soles  against  anon  for  me;  so  to  my  brother's.  To 
church,  and,  with  the  grave-maker,  chose  a  place 
for  my  brother  to  lie  in,  just  under  my  mother's  pew. 
But  to  see  how  a  man's  tombes  are  at  the  mercy  of 
such  a  fellow,  that  for  sixpence  he  would,  as  his 
own  words  were,  '  I  will  justle  them  together  but 
I  will  make  room  for  him,'  speaking  of  the  fulness 
of  the  middle  aisle,  where  he  was  to  lie  ;  and  that 
he  would,  for  my  father's  sake,  do  my  brother, 
that  is  dead,  all  the  civility  he  can ;  which  was  to 
disturb  other  corps  that  are  not  quite  rotten,  to 
make  room  for  him ;  and  methought  his  manner 
of  speaking  it  was  very  remarkable,  as  of  a  thing 
that  now  was  in  his  power  to  do  a  man  a  courtesy 
or  not.  I  dressed  myself,  and  so  did  my  servant 
Besse;  and  so  to  my  brother's  again;  whither, 
though  invited,  as  the  custom  is,  at  one  or  two 
o'clock,  they  come  not  till  four  or  five.  But,  at 
last,  one  after  another  they  come,  many  more  than 
I  bid ;  and  my  reckoning  that  I  bid  was  120,  but 
I  believe  there  was  nearer  150.  Their  service  was 
six  biscuits  apiece,  and  what  they  pleased  of  burnt 
claret.  My  cousin,  Joyce  Norton,  kept  the  wine 
and  cakes  above,  and  did  give  out  to  them  that 
served,  who  had  white  gloves  given  them.  But, 
above  all,  I  am  beholden  to  Mrs.  Holden,  who 
was  most  kind,  and  did  take  mighty  pains,  not 
only  in  getting  the  house  and  everything  else  ready, 
but  this  day  in  going  up  and  down  to  see  the  house 
filled  and  served,  in  order  to  mine  and  their  great 
content,  I  think ;  the  men  sitting  by  themselves  in 
some  rooms,  and  the  women  by  themselves  in 
others,  very  close,  but  yet  room  enough.  Anon  to 
church,  walking  out  into  the  street  to  the  conduit, 
and  so  across  the  street ;  and  had  a  very  good 
company  along  with  the  corps.  And  being  come 
to  the  grave  as  above.  Dr.  Pierson,  the  minister  of 
the  parish,  did  read  the  service  for  buriall ;  and  so 
I  saw  my  poor  brother  laid  into  the  grave ;  and  so 
all  broke  up;  and  I  and  my  wife,  and  Madam 


112 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Neighbourhood  of  the  Tower. 


Turner  and  her  family,  to  her  brother's,  and  by-and- 
by  fell  to  a  barrell  of  oysters,  cake,  and  cheese, 
of  Mr.  Honiwood's,  with  him,  in  his  chamber  and 
below,  being  too  merry  for  go  late  a  sad  work.  But, 
Lord  !  to  see  how  the  world  makes  nothing  of  the 
memory  of  a  man  an  hour  after  he  is  dead  !  And, 
indeed,  I  must  blame  myself,  for  though  at  the 
sight  of  him  dead,  and  dying,  I  had  real  grief  for 
a  while,  while  he  was  in  my  sight,  yet,  presently 
after,  and  ever  since,  I  have  had  very  little  grief 
indeed  for  him." 

Last  of  all  of  the  Pepys  family,  to  Allhallows 
came  the  rich  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  that  pleasant 
ben  vivant  and  musician,  who  was  interred,  June  4, 
1703,  in  a  vault  of  his  own  making,  by  the  side 
of  his  wife  and  brother.  The  burial  service  was 
read  at  nine  at  night,  by  Dr.  Hickes,  author  of  the 
"  'I  hesaurus." 

Under  the  organ  gallery,  at  the  west  end  of  the 
church,  is  a  sculptured  marble  figure,  set  up  by  the 
Turkey  Company,  to  Sir  Andrew  Riccard,  the  great 
benefactor  of  the  parish,  and  a  potent  man  after  the 
Restoration,  being  chairman  of  both  the  East  India 
Company  and  the  Turkey  Company.  At  the  foot 
of  the  statue,  which  formerly  stood  in  one  of  the 
aisles,  is  the  following  inscription  : — 

"  Sacred  be  the  statue  here  raised  by  gratitude  and  respect 
to  eternize  the  memoiy  of  Sir  Andrew  Riccard,  knight,  a 
citizen,  and  opulent  merchant  of  London ;  whose  active 
piety,  inflexible  integrity,  and  extensive  abilities,  alike  dis- 
tinguished and  exalted  hira  in  the  opinion  of  the  wise  and 
good.  Adverse  to  his  wish,  he  was  frequently  chosen  chair- 
man of  the  Honourable  East  India  Company,  and  filled, 
with  equal  credit,  for  eighteen  successive  years,  the  same 
eminent  station  in  the  Turkey  Company.  Among  many 
instances  of  his  love  to  God  and  liberal  spirit  towards  man, 
one,  as  it  demands  peculiar  praise,  deserves  to  be  distinctly 
recorded.  He  nobly  left  the  perpetual  advowson  of  this 
parish  in  trust  to  five  of  its  senior  inhabitants.  He  died  6th 
Sept.,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1672,  of  his  age,  68. 
"  Manet  post  funera  virtus." 

To  one  of  the  walls  of  the  church  is  affixed  part 
of  a  sculptured  figure  in  armour,  representing  Sir 
John  Radclifife,  one  of  the  Sussex  family,  who  died 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1568  (Elizabeth).  Stow 
describes  this  figure  as  recumbent  on  an  altar-tomb, 
with  a  figure  of  his  wife  kneeling  beside  it.  A 
figure  something  resembling  that  of  his  wife  is  still 
preserved  in  the  church.  Under  the  north  gallery 
is  a  full-sized  figure  in  armour  kneeling  beneath  a 
canopy,  inscribed  to  Peter  Chapponius,  and  dated 
1582.  There  is  also  a  brass  plate  at  the  east  end 
of  the  north  aisle  coinmemorating  Mr.  Thomas 
Morley,  Clerk  of  the  Househt)ld  of  Queen  Kathe- 
rinc  of  Arragon;  andStrype  mentions  one  to  Philip 
van  Wyllender,  musician,  and  orie  of  th§  Privy 


Chamber  to  H&nry  VIII.  and  Edward  VI.  The 
Baynings'  monument,  before  mentioned,  presents 
their  painted  and  well-sculptured  effigies  under 
alcoves.  Beneath  the  figure  of  Paul  Bayning,  who 
died  in  16 16,  are  some  lame  and  doggrel  verses, 
the  concluding  lines  of  which  are  : — 

"  The  happy  sum  and  end  of  their  affaires, 
Provided  well  both'  for  their  soules  and  heires." 

The  registers  of  St.  Olave's,  which  are  well  pi:e- 
served  and  perfect  from  the  year  1563  to  the 
present  time,  contain  a  long  list  of  names  with  the 
fatal  letter  P.  (Plague)  appended.  The  first  entry 
of  this  kind  is  July  24,  1665 — "Mary,  daughter  of 
William  Ramsay,  one  of  the  Drapers'  almsmen." 
Singularly  enough,  there  was  at  the  time  of  Mr. 
Godwin's  writing,  in  1839,  a  tradition  in  the  parish 
that  the  Plague  first  broke  out  in  this  parish  in  the 
Drapers'  Almshouses,  Cooper's  Row,  which  were 
founded  by  Sir  John  Milborn  in  the  year  1535.     ■ 

The  ancient  portions  of  this  interesting  church 
are  the  large  east  window  (with  stained  glass  of 
the  year  1823),  the  sharp-pointed  window  at  the 
end  of  the  north  aisle,  the  west  window,  and  the 
columns  and  arches  of  the  nave.  The  other  mn- 
dows  are  flatter  at  the  top,  and  the  ceilings  of  the 
aisles  are  studded  with  small  stars.  The  corbels  on 
the  north  side  are  formed  of  angels,  holding  shields. 
There  was  formerly  a  gallery  on  the  south  side  of 
the  church,  for  the  august  officers  of  the  Navy 
Office.  Here  Samuel  Pepys  must  have  often  dozed 
solemnly.  This  gallery  was  approached  by  a  small 
quaint  staircase  on  the  outside  of  the  church,  as 
.seen  by  an  old  engraving,  published  in  1726,  by 
West  and  Toms.  The  churchyard  gate  is  adorned 
with  five  skulls,  in  the  true  pagan  churchwarden 
taste  of  the  last  century. 

Pepys  frequently  mentions  this  church,  where  all 
the  dresses  he  was  so  proud  of — even  his  new  lace 
band,  the  effect  of  which  made  him  resolve  to 
make  lace  bands  his  chief  expense — were  displayed 
to  the  admiring  world  of  Seething  Lane.  He  and 
Sir  John  Minnes  were  attendants  here ;  and  it  is 
specially  mentioned  on  June  6,  1666,  when  Pepys 
says: — "To  our  church,  it  being  the  Common  Fast- 
day,  and  it  was  just  before,  sermon ;  but.  Lord ! 
how  all  the  people  in  the  church  stare  upon  me, 
to  see  me  whisper  'the  news  of  the  victory  over 
the  Dutch '  to  Sir  John  Minnes  and  my  Lady  Pen ! 
Anon  I  saw  people  stirring  and  whispering  below ; 
and  by-and-by  comes  up  the  sexton  from  my  Lady 
Ford,  to  tell  me  the  news  which  I  had  brought, 
being  now  sent  into  the  church  by  Sir  W.  Batten, 
in  writing,  and  passed  from  pew  to  pew."  This 
battle  was  Monk's  decisive  victory  over  De  Ruyter. 
And  again,  January  30,  1665-6.   This  day,  the  day 


Neighbourhood  of  the  "Tower.] 


ST.   DtJNStAN'SJN-THE-EAST. 


"3 


after  Pepys  had  discoursed  of  the  vanity  and  vices 
of  the  court  to  .Mr.  Evelyn,  who  had  proposed  a 
hospital  for  sailors,  and  whom  he  found  "  a  most 
worthy  person,"  the  chronicler  writes  : — "  Home, 
finding  the  town  keeping  the  day  solemnly,  it  being 
the  day  of  the  king's  murther;  and  they  being  at 
church,  I  presently  into  the  church.  This  is  the 
first  time  I  have  been  in  ihe  church  since  I  left 
London  for  the  Plague ;  and  it  frighted  me  indeed 
to  go  through  the  church,  more  than  I  thought  it 
could  hp.ve  done,  to  see  so  many  graves  lie  so 
high  upon  the  churchyard  where  people  have  been 
buried  of  the  plague.  I  was  much  troubled  at  it, 
and  do  not  think  to  go  through  it  again  a  good 
while." 

The  register  of  St.  Olave's  shows  that  in  this 
parish,  from  July  4  to  December  5,  1665,  there 
were  buried  326  people.  On  the  3rst  of  January 
Pepys  notices  his  hope  that  the  churchyard  of  St. 
Olave's  will  be  covered  with  lime ;  and  on  February 
4,  when  he  slinks  to  church  reluctantly,  to  hear  the 
vicar,  who  had  been  the  first  to  fly  and  the  last  to 
return,  preach,  he  is  much  cheered  at  finding  snow 
covering  the  dreaded  graves. 

St.  Dunstan's-in-the-East,  another  church  of  this 
district.  Stow  describes  as  "  a  fair,  large  church,  of 
an  ancient  building,  and  within  a  large  churchyard ;" 
and  speaks  of  the  parish  as  full  of  rich  merchants, 
Salters  and  Ironmongers.  Newcourt's  list  of  St. 
Dunstan  rectors  commences  in  13 12,  and  Stow 
records  the  burial  of  John  Kennington,  parson 
in  1372,  the  earhest  date  he  gives  in  connection 
with  the  church.  Strype  mentions  as  a  "  remark- 
able passage  "  concerning  this  building,  that  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  according  to  Archbishop  Chichley's 
register.  Lord  I'Estrange  and  his  wife  did  public 
penance  from  St.  Paul's  to  this  church,  "because 
they  gave  a  cause  of  murder  in  this  same  church, 
and  polluted  it."  The  old  churchwarden's  books, 
which  begin  in  the  fifteenth  century,  specify  sums 
paid  for  playing  "  at  organs ''  and  "  blowing  of  the 
organs,"  and  money  spent  in  garlands,  and  by 
priests  in  drinking,  on  St.  Dunstan's  Eve. 

The  church  being  seriously  damaged  in  the 
Great  Fire,  Wren  was  employed  to  repair  it.  The 
lofty  spire  mentioned  by  Newcourt  had  gone,  and 
Wren  erected  the  present  curious  one,  supported 
on  four  arched  ribs — an  idea  taken  from  the  church 
of  St.  Nicholas,  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  a  fine 
Gothic  building  of  the  fifteenth  century. 

Mr.  Godwin  complains  that  though  this  church 
was  one  of  Wren's  best  works  in  the  Pointed  style, 
yet  still  that  the  mouldings  of  the  tower  are  too 
Italian,  the  clock-case  out  of  character,  and  the  sunk 
panels  on  the  pinnacles  very  shallow  and  tame. 


Another  critic  calls  the  old  St.  Dunstan's  a  mole- 
hill compared  to  the  Newcastle  "  Mountain,"  the 
latter  tower  being  twenty  feet  less  in  width,  much 
higher,  and  with  two  storeys  more.  Nevertheless, 
Wren  was  proud  of  this  church;  and  being  told 
one  morning  that  a  hurricane  had  damaged  many 
London  spires,  he  remarked,  "  Not  St.  Dunstan's, 
I  am  quite  sure."  There  is  a  vulgar  tradition  about 
the  shape- of  "this  steeple,  which  cannot  be  given 
here. 

In  digging  the  foundations  for  the  present  church 
the  workmen  found  immense  walls  of  chalk  and 
rubble  stretching  in  all  directions,  especially  north- 
wards, where  the  monks  are  supposed  to  have 
dwelt.  Opposite  there  was  a  bricked-up  porch, 
which  had  been  used  as  a  bonehouse.  The  old 
Purbeck  marble  floor  was  worn  away  several  inches 
by  the  monks'  sandals,  and  there  were  in  the  same 
porch  some  side  benches  of  stone,  and  a  curious 
window  with  four  columns.  Glazed  tiles  of  the  old 
church-floor  were  found  two  feet  below  the  pave- 
ment, and  at  the  east  end  fragments  of  a  large 
muUioned  window. 

In  the  interior  Wren  washed  his  hands  of  the 
Gothic,  using  Doric  and  Corinthian  columns,  and 
circular-headed  windows  with  key-stones.  In  1810 
the  church  became  ruinous,  the  roof  of  the  nave 
thrusting  out  the  wall  seven  inches.  Mr.  Laing 
then  prepared  plans  for  a  new  church,  which  was 
begun  in  181 7,  and  opened  in  182 1.  This  modern 
Gothic  building  cost  about  ;^36,ooo.  The  east- 
end  window  is  of  the  florid  Perpendicular  style, 
and  is  said  to  be  an  exact  copy  of  the  one  dis- 
covered in  pulhng  down  the  old  building.  The 
roof  of  the  centre  aisle  is  remarkable  for  some 
elegant  fan-groining,  and  the  side  aisles  have  flat 
panelled  ceilings  in  the  corrupt  Gothic  style  of 
fifty  years  ago. 

The  register-books  of  St.  Dunstan's,  which  date 
back  as  far  as  1558,  escaped  the  Great  Fire,  and 
are  in  a  fine  state  of  preservation.  The  church 
contains  many  tablets  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  one  large  monument  on  the  south  side  of  the 
church  to  Sir  William  Russel,  a  charitable  London 
alderman,  who  died  in  1705.  The  worthy  man,  in 
flowing  Queen  Anne  wig,  shoes,  and  buckles,  lies 
on  his  left  side,  regretting  the  thirteen  shillings  he 
left  the  sexton  of  St.  Dunstan's  for  ever,  to  keep 
his  monument  clean.  Strype  mentions  the  tomb 
of  Alderman  James,  who,  before  the  Reformation, 
left  large  sums  tp  this  church  for  his  funeral,  and 
for  chanting  priests.  At  his  interment  ten  men  of 
the  brotherhood  of  Jesus,  in  this  church,  were  to 
carry  six-pound  torches  of  wax,  and  six  shillings 
and  eightpence  was  given  to  every  priest  and  clerk 


114 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


tNeigtiliourliood  of  the  ToWSf. 


for  singing  dirge  and  mass  of  requiem,  till  "his 
month's  mind  were  finished." 

That  excellent  man  and  delightful  writer,  Fuller, 
mentions  St.  Dunstan's-in-the-East  when  talking  of 
his  singular  gift  of  memory.  It  is  said  that  Fuller 
could  "repeat  five  hundred  strange  words  after 
twice  hearing  them,  and  could  make  use  of  a  sermon 
verbatim,  if  he  once  heard  it.''  Still  further,  it  is 
said  that  he  undertook,  in  passing  from  Temple 
Bar  to  the  extremity  of  Cheapside,  to  tell,  at  his 
return,  every  sign  as  it  stood  in  order  on  both  sides 


me  in  the  vestry  before  credible  people,  that  he,  ill 
Sidney  College,  had  taught  me  the  art  of  memory^ 
I  returned  unto  him.  That  it  was  not  so,  for  I  could 
not  remember  that  I  had  ever  seen  him  before/ 
which,  I  conceive,  was  a  real  refutation." 

At  the  lower  end  of  a  street  now  no  longer  exist- 
ing, named  the  Vineyard,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Tower,  there  used  to  be  the  basis  of  a  Roman 
tower,  about  eight  feet  high,  supporting  a  building 
of  three  storeys,  in  the  wall  of  which  was  fixed  a 
large  stone,  with  the  following  inscription : — 


roma:^  wall  on  tower  hill. 


of  the  way  (repeating  them  either  backwards  or 
forwards),  and  that  he  performed  the  task  exactly. 
This  is  pretty  well,  considering  that  in  that  day 
every  shop  had  its  sign.  That  many,  however,  of 
the  reports  respecting  his  extraordinary  memory 
were  false  or  exaggerated,  may  be  gathered  from 
an  amusing  anecdote  recorded  by  himself.  "  None 
alive,"  says  he,  "  ever  heard  me  pretend  to  the  art 
of  memory,  who  in  my  book  ('  Holy  State ')  have 
decried  it  as  a  trick,  no  art ;  and,  indeed,  is  more 
of  fancy  than  memory.  I  confess,  some  years  since, 
when  I  came  out  of  the  pulpit  of  St.  D«Tistan's 
East,  one  (who  since  wrote  a  book  thereof)  told 


"  Glory  be  to  God  on  high,  who  was  graciously 
pleased  to  preserve  the  lives  of  all  the  people  in 
this  house,  twelve  in  number,  when  the  ould  wall 
of  the  bulwark  fell  down  three  stories  high,  and  so 
broad  as  three  carts  might  enter  a  breast,  and  yet 
without  any  harm  to  anie  of  their  persones.  The 
Lord  sanctify  this  his  great  providence  unto  them. 
Amen  and  Amen. 

"It  was  Tuesday,  the  23rd  September,  1651." 

One  of  the  most  interesting  places  on  Tower 

Hill,  next  to  the  Mint  (on  whose  site,  by-the-bye, 

once  stood  a  tobacco  warehouse),  is  Trinity  House, 

a  corporation  for  the  increase  and  encouragement 


Keighbourhood  of  the  Tower.] 


THE  OLD  TRINITY  HOUSE. 


"5 


of  navigation,  the  examination  of  pilots,  the  regu- 
lation of  lighthouses  and  buoys,  and,  indeed,  all 
naval  matters  not  under  the  express  jurisdiction  of 
the  Admiralty. 

The  old  Trinity  House  stood  in  Water  Lane, 
Lower  Thames  Street,  a  little  north-west  of  the 
Custom  House ;  the  spot  is  now  Trinity  Chambers. 
Hatton,  in  1708,  describes  the  second  house,  built 
after  the  Great  Fire,  as  "  a  stately  building  of  brick 
and  stone  (adorned  with  ten  bustos),  built  anno 


down  in  1787,  was  situated  at  Deptford.  In  1680 
its  first  lighthouse  was  erected,  all  lighthouses 
which  had  previously  existed  on  the  English  coast 
having  been  built  by  private  individuals,  under  a 
patent  from  the  Crown.  It  was  not  till  the  year 
1854  that  the  private  rights  in  light-dues  were 
abolished,  and  the  exclusive  right  of  lighting  and 
buoying  the  coast  given  over  to  the  Trinity  House 
Board.  They  also  bind  and  enroll  apprentices  to 
the  sea ;  examine  the  mathematical  boys  of  Christ's 


THE  TRINITY   HOUSE. 


1 67 1."  Pepys,  who  lived  close  by,  mentions  going 
to  see  Tower  Street  on  fire,  from  Trinity  House 
on  one  side  to  the  "  Dolphin  "  Tavern  on  the  other. 
This  ancient  and  useful  guild  was  founded  by 
Sir  Thomas  Spert,  Comptroller  of  the  Navy  to 
Henry  VIII.,  and  commander  of  the  Great  Eastern 
of  that  age,  the  Harry  Grace  de  Dieu,  a  huge 
gilt  four-master,  ^n  which  Henry  VIII.  sailed  to 
Calais,  on  his  way  to  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of 
Gold.  It  was  incorporated  in  1529,  by  the  name 
of  "  The  Master,  Wardens,  and  Assistants  of  the 
Guild,  or  Fraternity,  or  Brotherhood  of  the  Most 
Glorious  and  Undividable  Trinity,  and  of  St. 
Clement,  in  the  parish  of  Deptford  Strond,  in  the 
county  of  Kent,"   and  the  mother  house,  pulled 


Hospital;  examine  mathematical  masters  for  the 
navy ;  and  place  and  alter  all  the  buoys,  beacons, 
and  sea-marks  along  the  English  coast.  By  an 
Act  passed  in  the  8th  Elizabeth,  they  also  survey 
the  channel  of  the  Thames  and  other  ports.  To 
them  once  belonged  the  power  of  ballasting  all 
ships  going  out  of  the  Thames,  the  ballast  to  be 
taken  from  the  more  dangerous  shelves,  and  where 
the  river  needed  deepening;  and,  at  request  of 
masters,  they  could  also  certify  to  goods  "  damni- 
fied" by  evil  stowing.  They  gave  licences  to  poor, 
aged,  and  maimed  mariners  to  row  "  upon  the  river 
of  Thames  "  without  licence  from  the  Watermen's 
Company.  They  could  prevent  foreigners  serving 
on  board  our  ships  without  licence ;  thev  heard 


n6 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Neighbourhood  of  the  T( 


■  and  determined  complaints  by  officers  and  men  in 
the  merchant  service ;  and,  lastly,  they  could  punish 
seamen  for  mutiny  and  desertion. 

The  Trinity  House  bye-laws  of  the  reign  of 
James  II.  contain  some  curious  regulations.  Every 
master  homeward  bound,  for  instance,  was  to  un- 
shot  his  guns  at  Gravesend,  on  penalty  of  twenty 
nobles. 

The  corporation  consists  of  a  master,  deputy- 
master,  thirty-one  elder  brethren,  and  an  unlimited 
number  of  humbler  members.  In  Pennant's  time 
it  consisted  of  a  master,  four  wardens,  eight  assist- 
ants, and  eighteen  elder  brethren,  and  they  seem 
to  have  been  known  as  "the  Thirty-one  Brethren." 
The  elder  brothers  are  generally  selected  from  old 
commanders  in  the  navy  and  merchant  service; 
and  now  and  then  a  compliment  is  paid  to  a  prince 
or  a  nobleman  who  could  not,  perhaps,  steer  a 
collier  to  Newcastle.  The  revenue  of  the  corpora- 
tion, about  ;^3oo,ooo  a  year,  arises  from  tonnage, 
ballastage,  beaconage,  and  licensing  pilots;  and 
this  sum,  after  defraying  the  expenses  of  light- 
houses, and  paying  off  the  portion  of  the  debt  in- 
curred by  the  purchase  of  all  existing  private  rights 
in  lighthouses,  is  chiefly  expended  in  maintaining 
poor  disabled  seamen  and  their  widows  and 
orphans,  by  pensions  in  the  corporation  hospital 
at  Deptford  Strand,  which  the  master  and  brethren 
visit  in  their  state  yacht,  in  grand  procession,  on 
Trinity  Monday. 

The  powers  of  the  Trinity  House  in  old  times  are 
fully  described  by  Strype.  They  decided  on  mari- 
time cases  referred  to  them  by  the  Admiralty 
judges ;  they  examined  and  gave  certificates  to 
masters  of  the  navy ;  they  examined  pilots  for  the 
royal  navy  and  for  the  merchant  service.  Bum- 
boats  with  fruit,  wine,  and  strong  waters  were  not 
permitted  by  them  to  board  vessels.  Every  mariner 
who  swore,  cursed,  or  blasphemed  on  board  ship, 
was  by  their  rules  to  pay  one  shilling  to  the  ship's 
poor-box.  Every  mariner  who  got  drunk  was  fined 
one  shilling.  No  mariner,  unless  sick,  could  absent 
himself  from  prayers  without  forfeiting  sixpence. 
The  previous   building  is  shortly  dismissed  by 


Cotton,  by  Chantrey;  George  III.,  by  Turn< 
&c.  The  Court-room  is  decorated  with  imp 
nations  of  the  Thames,  Medway,  Severn, 
Humber ;  and  among  the  pictures  is  a  fine  i 
ing,  twenty  feet  long,  by  Gainsborough,  of 
elder  brethren  of  Trinity  House.  In.  the  B( 
room  are  portraits  of  James  I.  and  II.,  EUzal 
Anne  of  Denmark,  Earl  Craven,  Sir  Francis  Di 
Sir  J.  Leake,  and  General  Monk ;  King  William 
the  Prince  Consort,  and  the  Duke  of  Wellinj 
three  of  the  past  masters ;  and  George  III.,  Qi 
Charlotte,  and  Queen  Adelaide. 

Of  one  of  the  portraits  Pennant  gives  a  plea 
biography.  "The  most  remarkable  picture,"  sayi 
London  historian,  "  is  that  of  Sir  John  Leake, 
his  lank  grey  locks,  and  a  loose  night-gown,  ■ 
a  mien  very  little  indicative  of  his  high  courage 
active  spirit.  He  was  the  greatest  commandc 
his  time,  and  engaged  in  most  actions  of  ] 
during  the  reigns  of  King  William  and  Queen  Ai 
To  him  was  committed  the  desperate  but  succ 
ful  attempt  of  breaking  the  boom,  previous  to 
relief  of  Londonderry.  He  distinguished  hin: 
greatly  at  the  'battle  of  La  Hogue ;  assisted  at 
taking  of  Gibraltar ;  and  afterwards,  as  Commam 
in-Chief,  reduced  Barcelona,  took  Carthagena, : 
brought  Sardinia  and  Minorca  to  submit  to  Char 
rival  to  Philip  for  the  crown  of  Spain.  He 
made  a  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  but  declined 
offer  of  being  the  head  of  the  commission ;  at 
accession  of  George  I.,  averse  to  the  new  fani 
he  retired,  but  with  the  approving  pension 
;^6oo  a  year.  He  lived  privately  at  Greenwi 
where  he  died  in  1720,  and  was  buried  in  a  man 
suitable  to  his  merits,  in  the  church  at  Stepney.' 

The  museum  contains  a  flag  taken  from 
Spanish  Armada  by  Sir  Francis  Drake,  a  mode] 
the  J?oya/  Wi'liam,  150  years  old,  and  two  colos 
globes,  given  by  Sir  Thomas  Allan,  admiral 
Charles  II. ;  pen-and-ink  views  of  sea-fights  ( 
same  period),  and  models  of  lighthouses,  float: 
lights,  and  lifeboats. 

The  office  of  the  master  of  the  corporation, 
various  times,  has  been  held  by  princes  and  stat 


Pennant  with  the  rem^ark  thatjt  was  unworthy  of  j  men.     From  1816,  when  Lord  Liverpool  occupi 

the  office  of  master,  it  was  held  in  succession 
the  Marquis  Camden,,  the  Duke  of  Clarence  (aft 
wards  William  IV.),  Marquis  Camden  again,  t 
Duke  of  Wellington,  the  Prince  Consort,  a 
Viscount  Palmerston.  The  present  master  is  t 
Duke  of  Edinburgh. 

Behind  the  houses  in  Trinity  Square,  in  Geoi 
Street,  Tower  Hill,  stands  one  of  the  four  remaini 
portions  of  the  old  London  wall.  We  have  alrea 
mentioned  it  in  our  chapter  on  Roman  London. 


the  greatness  of  its  design.  The  present  Trinity 
House  was  built  in  1793-5,  by  Samuel  Wyatt.  It 
is  of  the  Ionic  order.  On  its  principal  front  are 
sculptured  the  arms  of  the  corporation  (a  cross 
between  four  ships  under  sail),  medallions  of 
George  III.  and  Queeii  Charlotte,  genii  with 
nautical  instruments,  the  four  principal  lighthouses 
on  the  coast,  &c.  « 

The  interior  contains  bustf^  of  Vincent,  Nelson, 
Howe,  and  Duncan  ;   William  Pitt,  and  Captain  J. 


St.  Kathorine's  Docks.] 


ST.    KATHERINE'S    HOSPITAL. 


117 


CHAPTER    XHI. 
ST.    KATHERINE'S    DOCKS. 

St.  Katherine's  Hospital— Its  Royal  Benefactors  in  Farmer  Times— The  Fair  on  Tower  Hill— Seizure  of  the  Hospital  Revenues  at  the  Reformation 
—The  Dreadful  Fire  of  1672— Three  Luckless  Gordon  Rioters— St.  Katherine's  Church— The  only  Preferment  in  the  Right  of  the  Queen 
Consort— St.  Katherine's  Docks— Unloading  Ships  there— Labourers  employed  in  them— Applicants  for  Work  at  the  Docks— A  Precarious 
Living — Contrasts, 


Before  entering  the  gate  of  St.  Katherine's  Docks, 
where  great  samples  of  the  wealth  of  London  await 
our  inspection,  we  must  first  make  a  brief  mention 
'  of  the  old  hospital  that  was  pulled  down  in  1827, 
to  make  a  firesh  pathway  for  London  commerce. 
This  hospital  was  originally  founded  in  1148  by 
Matilda  of  Boulogne,  wife  of  the  usurper  Stephen, 
for  the  repose  of  the  souls  of  her  son  Baldwin  and 
her  daughter  Matilda,  and  for  the  maintenance  of 
a  master  and  several  poor  brothers  and  sisters.  In 
1273,  Eleanor,  widow  of  Henry  III.,  dissolved  the 
old  foundation,  and  refounded  it,  in  honour  of  the 
same  saint,  for  a  master,  three  brethren,  chaplains, 
three  sisters,  ten  bedeswomen,  and  six  poor  scholars. 
Opposed  to  this  renovation,  Pope  Urban  IV.,  by 
a  bull,  endeavoured  in  vain  to  reinstate  the  ex- 
pelled prior  and  brotherhood,  who  had  purloined 
the  goods  and  neglected  their  duties.  And  here, 
in  the  same  reign,  lived  that  great  alchemist,  Ray- 
mond Lully,  whom  Edward  III.  employed  in  the 
Tower  to  try  and  discover  for  him  the  secret  of 
transmutation. 

Another  great  benefactress  of  the  hospital  was 
the  brave  woman,  Philippa  of  Hainault,  wife  of 
that  terror  of  France,  Edward  III.  She  founded  a 
chantry  and  gave  houses  in  Kent  and  Herts  to  the 
charity,  and  ;^io  in  lands  per  annum  for  an  addi- 
tional chaplain. 

In  after  years  Henry  V.  confirmed  the  annual 
;^io  of  Queen  Philippa  for  the  endowment  of  the 
chantries  of  St.  Fabian  and  St.  Sebastian,  and  his 
son  Henry  VI.  was  likewise  a  bene&ctor  to  St. 
Katherine's  Hospital.  But  the  great  encourager  of 
the  charity  was  Thomas  de  Bekington,  afl;erwards 
BishcJp  of  Bath  and  Wells,  who,  being  master  of  the 
hospital  in  the  year  1445,  obtained  a  charter  of 
privileges,  to  help  the  revenue.  By  this  charter 
the  precincts  of  the  hospital  were  declared  free 
from  all  jurisdiction,  civil  or  ecclesiastical,  except 
that  of  the  Lord  Chancellor.  To  help  the  funds, 
an  annual  fair  was  to  be  held  on  Tower  Hill,  to 
last  twenty-one  days  from  the  feast  of  St.  James. 
The  district  had  a  special  spiritual  and  a  temporal 
court. 

Henry  VIII.  and  Katharine  of  Arragon  founded 
in  this  place  the  guild  or  fraternity  of  St.  Barbara, 


which  was  governed  by  a  master  and  three  wardens, 
and  included  in  its  roll  Cardinal  Wolsey,  the  Dukes 
of  Norfolk  and  Buckingham,  the  Earls  of  Shrews- 
bury and  Northumberland,  and  their  ladies.  In 
1526  the  king  confirmed  the  liberties  and  franchise 
of  this  house,  which  even  escaped  dissolution  in 
1534,  in  compliment,  it  has  been  supposed,  tb 
Queen  Anne  Boleyn,  whom  the  king  had  then 
lately  married. 

In  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  however,  all  the 
meshes  of  the  Reformers'  nets  grew  smaller.  Now 
the  small  fry  had  all  been  caught,  the  lands  of  St. 
Katherine's  Hospital  were  taken  possession  of  by 
the  Crown.'  Greediness  and  avarice  soon  had  their 
eye  on  the  hospital;  and  in  the  reign  of  EKzabeth, 
Dr.  Thomas  Wylson,  her  secretary,  becoming  the 
master,  surrendered  up  the  charter  of  Henry  VI., 
and  craftily  obtained  a  new  one,  which  left  out  any 
mention  of  the  liberty  of  the  fair  on  Tower  Hill. 
He  then  sold  the  rights  of  the  said  fair  to  the 
Corporation  of  London  for  ^466  13s.  4d.  He 
next  endeavoured  to  secure  all  the  hospital  estg,tes, 
when  the  parishioners  of  the  precinct  began  to 
cry  aloud  to  Secretary  Cecil,  and  stopped  the 
plunderer's  hand. 

In  1672  a  dreadful  fire  destroyed  one  hundred 
houses  in  the  precincts,  and  another  fire  during 
a  great  storm  in  1734  destroyed  thirty  buildings. 
During  the  .Gordon  riots  of  1780  a  Protestant  mob, 
headed  by  Macdonald,  a  lame  soldier,  and  two 
women — one  a  white  and  one  a  negro — armed 
with  swords,  were  about  to  demolish  the  church,  as 
being  built  in  Popish  times,  when  the  gentlemen 
of  the  London  Association  arrived,  and  prevented 
the  demolition.  Macdonald  and  the  two  women 
were  afterwards  hanged  for  this  at  a  temporary 
gallows  on  Tower  Hill. 

The  church  pulled  down  to  make  way  for  the 
docks  (religion  elbowed  off  by  commerce)  in 
1825,  was  an  interesting  Gothic  building,  (ex- 
clusive of  the  choir)  69  feet  long,  60  feet  broad. 
The  altar  was  pure  Gothic,  and  the  old  stalls,  of 
1340-69,  were  ciiriously  carved  with  grotesque  and 
fanciful  monstets ;  the  organ,  by  Green,  was  a  fine 
one,  remarkable  for  its  swell ;  and  the  pulpit,  given 
by  Sir  Julius  Csesar  (James  I.,  vide  our  chapter  on 


ii8 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Katherine's  Docks. 


Chancery  Lane),  was  a  singular  example  of  bad 
taste.  Round  the  six  sides  ran  the  following  in- 
scription : — 

"Ezra  the  scribe  stood  upon  a  pulpit  of  wood,  which  he 
had  made  for  the  preachin. " — Neh.  viii.  4. 

The  chief  tombs  were  those  of  John  Holland, 
Duke  of  Exeter,  his  duchess,  and  sister.  This  duke 
fought  in  France  in  the  wars  of  Henry  VI.,  and 
died  in  1447.  He  was  High  Admiral  of  England 
and  Ireland,  and  Constable  of  the  Tower.  We 
shall  describe  his  tomb  when  we  come  to  it  in 
Regent's  Park,  in  the  transplanted  hospital,  where 
it  now  is.  Gibbon,  the  herald,  an  ancestor  of  the 
great  historian,  was  also  buried  here. 

The  Queen  Consorts  of  England  are  by  law  the 
perpetual  patronesses  of  this  hospital,  with  un- 
limited power.  This  is  the  only  preferment  in  the 
gift  of  the  Queen  Consort.  When  there  is  no 
Queen  Consort,  the  Queen  Dowager  has  the  right 
of  nomination.  The  business  of  the  establishment 
and  appointment  of  subordinate  officers  is  trans- 
acted in  chapter  by  the  master,  brothers,  and 
sisters.  Among  the  eminent  masters  of  this  hos- 
pital we  may  mention  Sir  Julius  Csesar,  Sir  Robert 
Ayton,  a  poet  of  the  time  of  Charles  I.,  and  the 
Hon.  George  Berkeley,  husband  of  Mrs.  Howard, 
the  mistress  of  George  II.  A  curious  MS.  list  of 
plate  and  jewels,  in  the  Harleian  Library,  quoted 
by  Dr.  Ducarel,  shows  that  the  hospital  possessed 
some  altarcloths  and  vestments  of  cloth  of  gold 
and  crimson  velvet,  green  damask  copes,  and  silken 
coats,  for  the  image  of  St.  Katherine.  The  Duke 
of  Exeter  left  the  church  a  beryl  cup,  garnished 
with  gold  and  precious  stones,  a  gold  chalice, 
eleven  silver  candlesticks,  &c.,  for  the  priests  of  his 
chantry  chapel. 

St.  Katherine's  Docks  were  begun  in  1827,  and 
publicly  opened  in  1828 — a  Herculean  bit  of  work, 
performed  with  a  speed  and  vigour  unusual  even  to 
English  enterprise. 

The  site  of  the  docks,  immediately  below  the 
Tower  of  London,  is  bounded  on  the  north  by 
East  Smithfield,  on  the  west  and  south  by  Tower 
Hill  and  Foss-side  Road,  while  on  the  east  they  are 
separated  from  the  London  Docks  by  Nightingale 
Lane.  The  amount  of  capital  originally  raised  by 
shares  was  between  one  and  two  million  pounds, 
and  was  borrowed  on  the  security  of  the  rates  to 
be  received  by  the  Company,  for  the  liquidation  of 
which  debt  a  sinking  fund  was  formed.  Indepen- 
dently of  the  space  actually  occupied  by  the  docks 
and  warehouses,  the  Company  possess  freehold 
waterside  property  of  the  value  of  /^i  00,000, 
which  they  were  obliged  to  purchase  by  the  terms 
of  the  Act  of  Parliament,  and  which  yields  a 


large  annual  rental,  capable  of  very  considerable 
improvement.  In  clearing  the  ground  for  this  mag- 
nificent speculation,  1,250  houses  and  tenements 
were  purchased  and  pulled  down — no  less  than 
1 1,300  inhabitants  having  to  seek  accommodation 
elsewhere. 

The  area  thus  obtained  was  about  24  acres,  of 
which  11^  acres  are  devoted  to  wet  docks.  The 
first  stone  was  laid  on  the  3rd  of  May,  1827,  and 
upwards  of  2,500  men  were  employed  on  the  work 
of  construction  from  day  to  day. 

The  second  ship  that  entered  was  the  Mary,  343 
tons,  a  Russian  trader.  She  was  laden  with  every 
description  of  Russian  produce,  and  exhibited  on 
board  the  pleasing  spectacle  of  forty  veteran  pen- 
sioners from  Greenwich,  all  of  whom  had  served 
under  Nelson  at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar. 

The  permanent  establishment  of  persons  em- 
ployed about  the  dock  was  for  a  long  time  only 
100  officers  and  120  labourers. 

The  last  report  of  the  Company  in  June,  1873, 
showed  the  earnings  for  six  months  had  been 
;^S46,345  IIS.  id.  j  the  expenditure  (exclusive  of 
interest  on  debenture  stock,  &c.)  to  have  been 
;^348,479  IIS.  2d.;  showing  a  half-year's  balance 
^^  jQ'^^lfi^^  19s-  iid.  The  number  of  loaded 
foreign  ships  which  had  entered  the  docks  during 
the  previous  six  months  had  been  696,  measuring 
468,629  tons.  The  goods  landed  had  been  261,117 
tons,  and  the  stock  of  goods  in  the  warehouses 
was  309,819  tons. 

Mr.'  Mayhew,  in  his  "London  Labour,"  has 
some  valuable  notes  on  the  unloading  of  ships  in 
these  docks,  and  on  the  labourers  employed  for 
that  purpose : — 

"  The  lofty  walls,"  says  Mr.  Mayhew,  "  which  con- 
stitute it,  in  the  language  of  the  Custom  House, 
a  place  of  special  security,  enclose  an  area  capable 
of  accommodating  120  ships,  besides  barges  and 
other  craft. 

"Cargoes  are  raised  into  the  warehouses  out  of  the 
hold  of  a  ship  without  the  goods  being  deposited 
on  the  quay.  The  cargoes  can  be  raised  out  of  the 
ship's  hold  into  the  warehouses  of  St.  Katherinds  in 
one-fifth  of  the  usual  time.  Before  the  existence 
of  docks,  a  month  or  six  weeks  was  taken  up  in 
discharging  the  cargo  of  an  East  Indiaman  of  from 
800  to  1,200  tons  burden  ;  while  eight  days  were 
necessary  in  the  summer,  and  fourteen  in  the  winter, 
to  unload  a  ship  of  350  tons.  At  St.  Katherine's, 
however,  the  average  time  now  occupied  in  dis- 
charging a  ship  of  250  tons  is  twelve  hours,  and 
one  of  500  tons  two  or  three  days,  the  goods  being 
placed  at  the  same  time  in  the  warehouse.  There 
have  been  occasions  when  even  greater  dispatch 


St.  Katherine's  Doclw.] 


ST.   KATHERINE'S  DOCK  LABOURERS. 


119 


has  been  used,  and  a  cargo  of  1,100  casks  of 
tallow,  averaging  from  9  cwt.  to  10  cvvt.  each,  has 
b^en  discharged  in  seven  hours.  This  would  have 
been  considered  little  short  of  a  miracle  on  the 
legal  quays  less  than  fifty  years  ago.  In  1841, 
about  1,000  vessels  and  10,000  lighters  were 
accommodated  at  St.  Katherine's  Dock.  The 
capital  expended  by  the  dock  company  exceeds 
;^2, 000,000  of  money. 

"  The  business  of  this  establishment  is  carried 
on  by  35  officers,  105  clerks  and  apprentices,  135 
markers,  samplers,  and  foremen,  250  permanent 
labourers,  150  preferable  ticket  labourers,  propor- 
tioned to  the  amount  of  work  to  be  done.* 
The  average  number  of  labourers  employed  on 
any  one  day,  in  i860,  was  1,713,  and  the  lowest 
number  515;  so  that  the  extreme  fluctuation  in 
the  labour  appears  to  be  very  nearly  1,200  hands. 
The  lowest  sum  of  money  that  was  paid  in  1848 
for  the  day's  work  of  the  entire  body  of  labourers 
employed  was  ^^64  7s.  6d.,  and  the  highest  sum 
;£2i4  2S.  6d.;  being  a  difference  of  v^  nearly 
;^iSo  in  one  day,  or  ;^9oo  in  the  course  of  the 
week.  The  average  number  of  ships  that  enter 
the  dock  every  week  is  17;  the  highest  number 
that  entered  in  any  one  week  in  i860  was  36, 
and  the  lowest  5,  being  a  difference  of  31.  As- 
suming these  to  have  been  of  an  average  burden 
of  300  tons,  and  that  every  such  vessel  would 
require  100  labourers  to  discharge  its  cargo  in 
three  days,  then  1,500  extra  hands  ought  to  have 
been  engaged  to  discharge  the  cargoes  of  the 
entire  number  in  a  week.  This,  it  will  be  ob- 
served, is  very  nearly  equal  to  the  highest  number 
of  the  labourers  employed  by  the  Company  in  the 
year  1848." 

"  Those  persons,"  says  Mr.  Mayhew,  "  who  are 
unable  to  live  by  the  occupation  to  which  they 
have  been  educated,  can  obtain  a  living  there 
without  any  previous  training.  Hence  we  find 
men  of  every  calling  labouring  at  the  docks. 
There  are  decayed  and  bankrupt  master  butchers, 
master  bakers,  publicans,  grocers,  old  soldiers, 
old  sailors,  Pohsh  refugees,  broken-down  gentle- 
men, discharged  lawyers'  clerks,  suspended  Go- 
vernment clerks,  almsmen,  pensioners,  servants, 
thieves — indeed,  every  one  who  wants  a  loaf  and 
is  wining  to  work  for  it.  The  London  dock  is 
one  of  the  few  places  in  the  metropoHs  where  men 
can  get  employment  without  either  character  or 
recommendation ;  so  that  the  labourers  employed 
there  are  naturally  a  most  incongruous  assembly. 
Each  of  the  docks  employs  several  hundred  hands 
to  ship  and  discharge  the  cargoes  of  the  numerous 
vessels  that  enter;  and  as  there  are  some  six  or 


seven  of  such  docks  attached  to  the  metropohs, 
it  may  be  imagined  how  large  a  number  of  indi- 
viduals are  dependent  on  them  for  their  sub- 
sistence." 

The  dock-work,  says  Mr.  Mayhew,  speaking  of 
the  dock  labourers,  whom  he  especially  observed, 
may  be  divided  into  three  classes,  i.  Wheel-work, 
or  that  which  is  moved  by  the  muscles  of  the  legs 
and  weight  of  the  body.  2.  Jigger,  or  winch-work, 
or  that  which  is  moved  by  the  muscles  of  the  arm. 
In  each  of  these  the  labourer  is  stationary ;  but  in 
the  truck-work,  which  forms  the  third  class,  the 
labourer  has  to  travel  over  a  space  of  ground 
greater  or  less  in  proportion  to  the  distance  which 
the  goods  have  to  be  removed. 

The  wheel-work  is  performed  somewhat  on  the 
principle  of  the  tread-wheel,  with  the  exception  that 
the  force  is  applied  inside,  instead  of  outside,  the 
wheel.  From  six  to  eight  men  enter  a  wooden 
cylinder  or  drum,  upon  which  are  nailed  battens; 
and  the  men,  laying  hold  of  ropes,  commence 
treading  the  wheel  round,  occasionally  singing  the 
while,  and  stamping  time  in  a  manner  that  is 
pleasant  from  its  novelty.  The  wheel  is  generally 
about  sixteen  feet  in  diameter,  and  eight  to  nine  feet 
broad ;  and  the  six  or  eight  men  treading  within 
it  will  lift  from  sixteen  to  eighteen  hundredweight, 
and  often  a  ton,  forty  times  an  hour,  an  average  of 
twenty-seven  feet  high.  Other  men  will  get  out  a 
cargo  of  from  800  to  900  casks  of  wine,  each  cask 
averaging  about  five  hundredweight,  and  being 
lifted  about  eighteen  feet,  in  a  day  and  a  half  At 
trucking,  each  man  is  said  to  go  on  an  average 
thirty  miles  a  day,  and  two-thirds  of  that  time  he  is 
moving  one  and  a-half  hundredweight,  at  six  miles 
and  a;-half  per  hour. 

This  labour,  though  requiring  to  be  seen  to  be 
properly  understood,  must  still  appear  so  arduous, 
that  one  would  imagine  it  was  not  of  that  tempting 
nature  that  3,000  men  could  be  found  every  day 
in  London  desperate  enough  to  fight  and  battle  for 
the  privilege  of  getting  two-and-sixpence  by  it ;  and 
even  if  they  fail  in  "getting  taken  on"  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  day,  that  they  should  then  retire 
to  the  appointed  yard,  there  to  remain  hour  after 
hour  in  the  hope  that  the  wind  might  blow  them 
some  stray  ship,  so  that  other  gangs  might  be 
wanted,  and  the  calling  foreman  seek  them  there. 
It  is  a  curious  sight  to  see  the  men  waiting  in  these 
yards  to  be  hired  at  fourpence  an  hour,  for  such 
are  the  terms  given  in  the  after  part  of  the  day.  ■ 
There,  seated  on  long  benches  ranged  round  the 
wall,  they  remain,  some  telling  their  miseries  and 
some  their  crimes  to  one  another,  whilst  others 
doze    away  their  time.      Rain  or  sunshine,  there 


120 


OLD  AND-  NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Katherire's  Docks. 


St.  Katherine's  Docks.] 


WEALTH  AND  MISERY  SIDE  BY  SIDE. 


121 


can  always  be  found  plenty  to  catjdi  the  stray 
shilling  or  eightpence.  By  the  size  of  the  shed  you 
can  tell  how  many  men  sometimes  remain  there  in 
th&  pouring  rain,  rather  than  lose  the  chance  of  the 
stray  hour's  work.  Some  loiter  on  the  bridges 
close  by,  and  presently,  as  their  practised  eye  or 
ear  tells  them  that  the  calling  foreman  is  in  want  of 
another  gang,  they  rush  forward  in  a  stream  towards 
the  gate,  though  only  six  or  eight  at  most  can  be 
hired  out  of  the  hundred  or  more  that  are  waiting 


vessels  coming.  It  is  a  terrible  proof  how  many 
of  our  population  live  on  the  very  brink  of  starva- 
tion, and  toil,  like  men  in  a  leaky  boat,  only  to 
keep  off  death. 

In  no  single  spot  of  London,  not  even  at  the 
Bank,  could  so  vivid  an  impression  of  the  vast 
wealth  of  England  be  obtained  as  at  the  Docks, 
Here  roll  casks  of  Burgundy,  as  they  rolled  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  III.,  on  the  eve  of  Poictiersj 
and  there  by  their  side  are  chests  of  tea,  marked 


ST.  KATHERINE's  hospital. — THE  BROTHERS'   HOUSES  IN    1781. 


there.  Again  the  same  mad  fight  takes  place  as  in 
the  morning. 

...If  you  put  the  vessels  belonging  to  the  port  of 
London  at  3,000,  and  the  steamers  at  250  or  300, 
and  the  crews  of  which  at  35,000  men  and  boys, 
it  will  be  seen  that  the  dock  labourers  required 
must  be  very  numerous.  Mr.  Mayhew. calculated 
that  beside  the  great  wealth  of  our  docks  there 
flows  a  parallel  current  of  misery :  a  single  day's 
east  wind  sometimes  deprives  2,500  dock  labourers 
of  a  day's  living.  He  puts  the  men  of  this  class 
at  about  12,000  (it  is,  perhaps,  even  more  now), 
and  proves  that  their  wages  collectively  vary  from 
;£^i,5oo  a  day  to  ;^5oo,  and  that  8jooo  men  are 
even  thrown  out  of  employ  by  a  wind  that  prevents 


all  over  with  turnpike-gate  characters,  fresh  from 
an  empire  where  no  English  factory  existed  till 
the  year  1680,  after  many  unsuccessful  efforts  to 
baffle  Portuguese  jealousy;  and  near  them  are 
bales  of  exquisite  silk  from  Yokohama — a  place 
hardly  safe  for  Englishmen  till  1865.  So  our  com- 
merce has  grown  like  the  Jin,  who  arose  from  the 
leaden  bottle,  till  it  has  planted  one  foot  on  Cape 
Horn  and  another  on  the  Northern  Pole.  "  How 
long  will  it  continue  to  grow?"  says  the  mournful 
philosopher.  Our  answer  is,  "As  long  as  honour 
and  truthfuhiess  are  the  base  of  English  trade;  as 
long  as 'freedom  reigns  in  England;  as  long  as 
our  religion  is  Protestant,  and  our  Saxon  nature 
energetic,  patient,  brave,  and  God-fearing." 


122 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON, 


CThc  Tower  Subway. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 
THE    TOWER    SUBWAY    AND    LONDON    DOCKS. 

London  Apoplectic— Early  Subways— The  Tower  Subway— London  Breweries  in  the  time  of  the  Tudors— The  West  India,  East  India,  and 
London  Docks— A  Tasting  Order  for  the  Doclts— The  "Queen's  Pipe"— Curious  ''Treasure  Trove." 


It  has  long  been  a  question  with  English  engineers, 
whether,  as  the  wealth  and  population  of  the  City 
increase,  London  must  not  some  day  or  other  be 
double-decked.  The  metropolis  is  going  plethoric, 
to  use  a  medical  metaphor — it  makes  so  much  blood; 
and  if  something  is  not  done,  a  stoppage  must 
ensue.  A  person  disposed  to  fat  sometimes  grows 
larger  the  more  depletive  his  diet ;  so  increased  rail- 
ways (like  the  Metropolitan)  seem  rather  to  increase 
than  lessen  the  general  traffic.  When  that  under- 
taking was  opened  in  1863  it  was  feared  that  the 
"buses'"  from  Paddington  and  Oxford  Street  would 
be  driven  off  the  line,  for  in  the  first  year  the  rail=- 
way  carried  9,500,000  passengers.  A  little  later  it 
carried  nearly  40,000,000  passengers ;  and  since  it 
began  it  has  carried  150,000,000  persons  to  and  fro. 
Yet  at  the  present  moment  there  are  more  omni- 
buses on  this  line  of  route  from  the  West  to  the 
City  than  there  were  when  the  railway  started,  and 
they  are  earning  one  penny  per  mile  a  day  more 
than  they  were  before  it  was  opened.  These  facts 
seem  almost  astounding,  but  the  surprise  disappears 
when  we  remember  the  fact,  that  in  dealing  with 
London  passenger  traffic  we  are  dealing  with  a 
population  greater  than  that  of  all  Scotland,  and 
more  than  two-thirds  that  of  all  Ireland ;  a  popu- 
lation, too,  which  increases  in  a  progressive  ratio  of 
about  42,000  a  year.  But  with  all  this  increase  of 
numbers,  which  literally  means  increase  of  difficulty 
in  moving  about,  the  great  streets  most  frequented 
grow  not  an  inch  wider.  Fleet  Street  and  "  Old 
Chepe"  are  just  as  narrow  as  in  the  days  of 
Elizabethj  when  the  barrier  stood  at  Ludgate ;  and 
Thames  Street,  which  is  no  wider  than  it  was  in  the 
days  of  Alfred,  is  congested  with  its  traffic  twelve 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four. 

A  few  years  ago  Mr.  Barlow,  a  very  practical 
engineer,  came  forward  to  meet  this  crying  want,  and 
offered,  at  a  cost  of  ;^i  6,000,  in  less  than  a  year, 
to  bore  a  subway  through  the  bed  of  the  Thames. 
The  idea  was  not  a  new  one.  As  early  as  1799  an 
attempt  had  been  made  to  construct  a  tunnel  under 
the  Thames  between  Gravesend  and  Tilbury ;  and 

■  in  1804  a  similar  work  was  actually  begun  between 
Rotherhithe  and  Limehouse,  which,  ifter  proceeding 
1,000  feet,  broke  in;  fifty-four  engineers^  of  the 
day  deciding  that  such  a  work  not  only  would 

never  commercially  pay^  but  was  also  impracticable. 


Brunei's  scheme  of  the  Thames  Tunnel  cost  half  a 
million  of  money,  and  took  twenty-one  years'  labour 
to  complete. 

Mr.  Barlow's  tunnel,  from  Tower  Hill  to  Tooley 
Street,  was  of  course  looked  upon  as  chimerical. 
Mr.  Barlow,  with  less  ambition  arid  genius,  but 
more  common  sense  and  thriftiness  than  his  great 
predecessor,  took  good  care  to  remember  that  the 
crown  of  Brunei's  arches,  in  some  places,  came 
within  four  feet  of  the  river  water.  In  the  Tower 
subway  the  average  distance  preserved  is  thirty  feet, 
and  in  no  place  is  there  less  than  eighteen  feet  of 
sound  London  clay  between  the  arch  and  the  tide- 
way. The  cardinal  principle  of  Mr.  Barlow  was 
to  sink  deep  into  the  London  clay,  which  is  as 
impervious  to  water  as  stone,  and  in  which  no 
pumping  would  be  required. 

The  works  were  begun  on  February  16,  1869,  by 
breaking  ground  for  the  shaft  on  the  north  side  of 
the  river;  in  February,  1870,  numerous  visitors 
were  conveyed  from  one  shaft-head  to  the  other. 
The  tunnel  commences,  as  we  have  said,  at 
Tower  Hill,  where  a  hoarding  encloses  a  small 
square  of  ground,  not  larger  than  an  ordinary 
sitting-room,  for  which,  however,  the  Government 
made  the  Company  pay  at  the  rate  of  about 
;^24o,ooo  an  acre.  In  the  centre  of  this  is  a  little 
circular  shaft,  about  fourteen  feet  diameter  and 
sixty  feet  deep,  and  at  the  end  of  this,  facing  south,' 
a  clean,  bright,  vaulted  chamber,  which  serves  as 
a  waiting-room.  At  the  end  of  this  chamber  is 
the  tunnel,  a  tube  of  iron  not  unlike  the  adit 
of  a  mine,  which,  in  its  darkness  and  silence, 
heightened  by  the  knowledge  that  this  grim-' 
looking  road  runs  down  deeply  below  the  bed  of 
the  river,  gives  it  at  first  sight  anything  but  an 
inviting  appearance.  The  length  of  the  whole  tunnel 
is  about  1,340  feet,  or  as  nearly  as  possible  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile.  From  Tower  Hill  it  runs  in  a 
south-west  direction,  and,  passing  under  Barclay's 
brewery,  emerges  under  a  shaft  similar  to  that  at 
entering,  but  only  fifty  feet  deep,  and  out  of  this 
the  passengers  will  come  within  a  few  yards  of 
Tooley  Street,  close  to  the  railway  station.  From 
the  Tower  Hill  shaft  to  the  centre  of  the  river  the 
tunnel  makes  a. dip  of  about  one  in  thirty.  Ftero 
this  point  it  rises  again  at  the  same  incline  to  what 
we  may  call  the  Tooley  Street  station. 


The  Tower  Subway.] 


ANCIENT  LONDON  BREWERIES. 


123 


The  method  of  constructing  the  tunnel,  we  need 
hardly  remark,  from  its  excessive  cheapness,  was 
simple  in  the  extreme.  It  has  been  built  in 
18-inch  lengths  offcast-iron  tubing,  perfectly  cir- 
cular, each  18-inch  circle  being  built  up  of  three 
segments,  with  a  key-piece  at  the  top,  which,  fitting 
in  like  a  wedge,  holds  the  rest  with  the  rigidity  of  a 
solid  casting.  The  cast-iron  shield  used  for  exca- 
vation was  less  than  two  and  a  half  tons  weight. 
In  front  of  the  shield,  which  was  slightly  concave, 
was  an  aperture  about  two  feet  square,  closed  with 
a  sliding  iron  water-tight  door,  and  at  the  back  of 
the  shield  were  iron  sockets,  into  which  screw- 
jacks  fitted,  and,  when  worked  by  hand,  forced  the 
shield  forward.  The  mode  of  advance  was  this. 
When  a  shaft  on  Tower  Hill  had  been  bored  to  a 
sufficient  depth  below  the  London  clay,  the  shield 
was  lowered  and  placed  in  its  required  position. 
The  water-tight  door  we  have  spoken  of  as  in  the 
centre  was  then  opened.  Through  this  aperture 
sufficient  clay,  just  of  the  consistency  of  hard 
cheese,  was  cut  away  by  hand  till  a  chamber  was 
made  large  enough  for  a  man,  who  entered  and 
worked  till  there  was  room  for  two,  and  these  soon 
made  a  circular  space  exactly  the  size  of  the  shield 
and  about  two  feet  deep.  This  done,  the  miners 
came  out,  and  with  their  screw-jacks  forced  the 
shield  forward  into  the  space  which  they  had  cut, 
but  with  the  long  telescope-like  cap  of  the  shield 
stUl  .over  them.  Under  cover  of  this  an  18-inch 
ring  was  quickly  put  in  and  bolted  together  j 
and  while  this  was  doing,  the  clay  was  being  ex- 
cavated from  the  front  of  the  shield  as  before. 
Thus  every  eight  hours,  night  and  day,  Sundays 
and  week  days,  the  shield  went  forward  eighteen 
inches,  and  eighteen  inches  length  of  iron  was 
added  to  the  tube,  which  so  advanced  at  the  rate  of 
5  feet  4  inches  every  twenty-four  hours. 

The  clay  was  so  completely  water-proof,  that  water 
had  to  be  sent  down  to  the  workmen  in  cans  to 
mix  with  the  cement.  No  traces  of  fresh-water 
shells  were  found ;  but  very  large  clay-stones  and 
a  great  many  sharks'  teeth  and  marine  shells.  So 
perfect  were  Mr.  Barlow's  calculations,  that  the  two 
opposite  tunnels  met  within  a  quarter  of  an  inch. 
The  small  interval  between  the  iron  and  the  clay 
was  filled  with  blue  lias  cement,  which  coats  the  tube 
and  protects  it  fro;n  oxidisation.  The  gain  to  the 
East-end  of  London  by  this  successful  and  cleverly 
executed  undertaking  is  enormous,  and  the  inter- 
course between  the  north  and  south  banks  of  the 
Thames  is  greatly  facilitated  ;  and  the  conception 
has  been  seized  upon  by  Mr.  Bateman  as  the  basis 
of  his  well-known  suggestion  for  a  submarine  tube 
to  carry  a  railway  from  England  to  France.     The 


Thames  tube  is  7  feet  in  clear  internal  diameter, 
and  it  originally  carried  a  railway  of  2  feet  6  inches 
gauge.  On  this  railway  formerly  ran  an  omnibus 
capable  of  convejjing  twelve  passengers.  The  om- 
nibus was  constructed  of  iron ;  it  was  light,  but 
very  strong,  and  ran  upon  eight  wheels,  and  was 
connected  with  a  rope  of  steel  wire  by  means  of 
a  gripe  that  could  be  at  any  time  tightened  or 
relaxed  at  pleasure,  and  at  each  end  of  the  tunnel 
this  wire  ran  over  a  drum  worked  by  means  of  a 
stationary  engine. 

If  the  carriage  was  stopped  in  the  centre  of  the 
tunnel,  the  beat  of  the  paddles  of  the  steamers  above 
could  be  heard,  and  even  the  hammering  on  board 
ships.  In  time  there  will  be  subways  at  Gravesend, 
Woolwich,  and  Greenwich.  The  next  to  be  formed, 
however,  is  one  from  St.  George's  Church  in  the 
Borough  to  Cannon  Street.  The  Tower  subway 
is  now  only  used  for  foot-passengers,  at  a  charge  of 
one  halfpenny. 

On  the  river  side,  below  St.  Katherine's,  says 
Pennant,  on  we  hardly  know  what  authority,  stood, 
in  the  reign  of  the  Tudors,  the  great  breweries 
of  London,  or  the  "bere  house,"  as  it  is  called 
in  the  map  of  the  first  volume  of  the  "  Civitates 
Orbis."  They  were  subject  to  the  usual  useful,  yet 
vexatious,  surveillance  of  the  olden  times  •  and  in 
1492  (Henry  VII.)  the  king  licensed  John  Mer- 
chant, a  Fleming,  to  export  fifty  tuns  of  ale  "  called 
berre ;"  and  in  the  same  thrifty  reign  one  Geffrey 
Gate  (probably  an  officer  of  the  king's)  spoiled 
the  brew-houses  twice,  either  by  sending  abroad 
too  much  beer  unlicensed,  or  by  brewing  it  too 
weak  for  the  sturdy  home  customers..  The  demand 
for  our  stalwart  EngHsh  ale  increased  in  the  time 
of  EUzabeth,  in  whose  reign  we  find  500  tuns 
being  exported  at  one  time  alone,  and  sent  over 
to  Amsterdatn  probably,  as  Pennant  thinks,  for 
the  use  of  our  thirsty  army  in  the  Low  Countries. 
The  exportation  then  seems  to  have  been  free, 
except  in  scarce  times,  when  it  was  checked  by 
proclamation;  but  even  then  royal  licences  to 
brew  could  be  bought  for  a  consideration. 

From  the  old  brew-houses  of  EUzabeth  in 
London,  that  have  long  since  passed  into  dream- 
land, we  must  now  guide  our  readers  forward, 
under  swinging  casks  and  between  ponderous 
wheels  that  seem  to  threaten  instant  annihilation, 
into  the  broad  gateway  of  the  London  Docks,  the 
most  celebrated  and  central  of  all  the  semi-mari- 
time brotherhood.  The  St.  Katherine's  Dock,  with 
its  twenty-four  acres  of  water,  can  already  accom- 
modate 10,000  tons  of  goods,  while  the  capital 
of  the  Company  exceeds  two  million  pounds.  But 
all, this  dwindles  into  comparative  insignificance 


124 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  London  Docks. 


beside  the  leviathan  docks  we  have  now  to  de- 
cribe,  which  grasp  an  extent  of  loo  acres,  and 
offer  harbour-room  for  500  ships  and  34,000  tons 
of  goods ;  the  capital  of  the  Company  amounting 
to  the  enormous  amount  of  four  millions.  Yet 
these  again  are  dwarfed  by  the  West  India  Docks, 
their  richer  neighbours,  which  are  three  times  as 
extensive  as  the  London  Docks,  having  an  area 
of  no  less  than  295  acres,  with  water  to  accom- 
modate 400  vessels,  and  warehouse-room  for 
180,000  tons  of  merchandise;  the  capital  of  the 
Company  is  more  than  six  milUons  of  pounds, 
and  the  value  of  goods  which  have  been  on  the 
premises  at  one  time  twenty  millions.  Lastly,  the 
East  India  Docks  occupy  32  acres,  and  afford 
warehouse-room  for  15,000  tons  of  goods. 

The  London  Docks,  built  by  Rennie,  were 
opened  in  1805.  In  1858  two  new  docks  were 
constructed  for  the  larger  vessels  now  built,  and 
they  have  28  feet  depth  of  water.  The  wool  floors 
were  enlarged  and  glass-roofed  in  1850.  The 
annual  importation  is  130,000  bales.  The  vast 
tea  warehouse,  with  stowage  for  120,000  chests  of 
tea,  was  completed  in  1845,  at  a  cost  or;^ioo,ooo. 
Six  weeks  are  allowed  for  unloading  a  ship :  a 
farthing  a  ton  per  week  is  charged  for  the  first  two 
weeks,  then  a  halfpenny  per  week  per  ton.  The 
great  jetty  and  sheds,  built  in  1839,  cost  ;^6o,ooo. 

"As  you  enter  the  dock,"  says  Mr.  Mayhew, 
in  a  pleasant  picture  of  the  ^cene,  "  the  sight  of 
the  forest  of  masts  in  the  distance,  and  the  tall 
chimneys  vomiting  clouds  of  black  smoke,  and 
the  many-coloured  flags  flying  in  the  air,  has  a 
most  peculiar  effect;  while  the  sheds  with  the 
monster  wheels  arching  through  the  roofs  look 
like  the  paddle-boxes  of  huge  steamers.  Along 
the  quay  you  see,  now  men  with  their  faces  blue 
with  indigo,  and  now  gangers  with  their  long  brass- 
tipped  rule  dripping  with  spirit  from  the  cask 
they  have  been  probing.  Then  will  come  a  group 
of  flaxen-haired  sailors,  chattering  German ;  and 
next  a  black  sailor,  with  a  cotton  handkerchief 
twisted  turbaa-like  round  his  head.  Presently  a 
blue-smocked  butcher,  with  fresh  meat  and  a 
bunch  of  cabbages  in  the  tray  on  his  shoulder ; 
and  shortly  afterwards  a  mate,  with  green  paroquets 
in  a  wooden  cage.  Here  you  will  see  sitting  on  a 
bench  a  sorrowful-looking  woman,  with  new  bright 
cooking  tins  at  her  feet,  telling  you  she  is  an 
emigrant  preparing  for  her  voyage.  As  you  pass 
along  this  quay  the  air  is  pungent  with  tobacco ;  on 
that,  it  overpowers  you  with  the  fumes  of  rum  ;  then 
you  are  nearly  sickened  with  the  stench  of  hides 
and  huge  bins  of  horns  ;  and  shortly  afterwards 
tlie  atmosphere  is  fragrant  with  coffee  and  spice. 


Nearly  everywhere  you  meet  stacks  of  cork,  or 
else  yellow  bins  of  sulphur,  or  lead-coloured  copper 
ore.  As  you  enter  this  warehouse  the  flooring  is 
sticky,  as  if  it  had  been  newly  tarred,  with  the  sugar 
that  has  leaked  through  the  casks ;  and  as  you  de^ 
scend  into  the  dark  vaults,  you  see  long  lines  of 
lights  hanging  from  the  black  arches,  and  lamps 
flitting  about  midway.  Here  you  sniff  the  fumes 
of  the  wine,  and  there  the  peculiar  fungus-smell  of 
dry  rot ;  there  the  jumble  of  sounds  as  you  pass 
along  the  dock  blends  in  anything  but  sweet  con- 
cord. The  sailors  are  singing  boisterous  nigger 
songs  from  the  Yankee  ship  just  entering;  the 
cooper  is  hammering  at  the  casks  on  the  quay; 
the  chains  of  the  cranes,  loosed  of  their  weight, 
rattle  as  they  fly  up  again ;  the  ropes  splash  in  the 
water;  some  captain  shouts  his  orders  through  his 
hands ;  a  goat  bleats  from  some  ship  in  the  basin ; 
and  empty  casks  roll  along  the  stones  with  a 
heavy,  drum-like  sound.  Here  the  heavily-laden 
ships  are  down  far  below  the  quay,  and  you 
descend  to  them  by  ladders;  whilst  in  another 
basin  they  are  high  up  out  of  the  water,  so  that 
their  green  copper  sheathing  is  almost  level  with 
the  eye  of  the  passenger  ;  while  above  his  head  a 
long  line  of  bowsprits  stretches  far  over  the  quay, 
and  from  them  hang  spars  and  planks  as  a  gang- 
way to  each  ship. 

"  This  immense  establishment  is  worked  by  from 
1,000  to  3,000  hands,  according  as  the  business  is 
either  brisk  or  slack.  Out  of  this  number  there  are 
always  400  to  500  permanent  labourers,  receiving 
on  an  average  i6s.  6d.  per  week,  with  the  exception 
of  coopers,  carpenters,  smiths,  and  other  mechanics, 
who  are  paid  the  usual  wages  of  those  crafts. 
Besides  these,  there  are  many  hundred — from  i;ooo 
to  2,500 — casual  labourers,  who  are  engaged  at 
the  rate  of  2s.  .6d.  per  day  in  the  summer,  and 
2S.  4d.  in  the  winter  months.  Frequently,  in  case 
of  many  arrivals,  extra  hands  are  hired  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  at  jthe  rate  of  4d.  an  hour.  For 
the  permanent  labourers  a  recommendation  is  re- 
quired, but  for  the  casual  labourers  no  character 
is  demanded.  The  numlaer  of  the  casual  hands 
engaged  by  the  day  depends,  of  course,  upon  the 
amount  of  work  to  be  done ;  and  we  find  that  the 
total  number  of  labourers  in  the  dock  varies  from 
500  to  3,000  and  odd.  On  the  4th  of  May,  1849, 
the  number  of  hands  engaged,  both  permanent  and 
casual,  was  2,794;  on  the  26th  of  the  same  month 
it  was  3,012  ;  and  on  the  30th  it  was  1,189.  These 
appear  to  be  the  extreme  of  the  variation  for  that 
year.''  '    '.      '•' " 

There  are  few  Londoners  with  curiosity  or  leisure 
who  have  not  at  some  time  or  otlier  obtained  _"  a 


The  Ixjndon  Boeks.] 


A  TTASTlNG  ORDER  FOR  TH£  I?OCK:g. 


125 


tasting  order  for  the  docks."  To  all  but  the  most 
prudent  that  visit  has  led  to  the  same  inglorious 
result.  First  there  is  "  a  coy,  reluctant,  amorous 
delay,"  a  shy  refusal  of  the  proffered-  goblet, 
gradually  an  inquiring  sip,  then  another;  next 
arises  a  curious,  half-scientific  wish  to  compare 
vintages ;  and  after  that  a  determination,  "  being  in 
for  it,"  to  acquire  a  rapid,  however  shallow,  know- 
ledge of  comparative  ages  and  qualities.  On  that 
supervenes  a  garrulous  fluency  of  tongue  that 
leads  to  high-flown  remembrances  of  Spanish  and 
French  towns,  illustrated  by  the  songs  of  the 
peasantry  of  various  countries.  Upon  that  follows 
a  lassitude  and  mute  melancholy,  which  continues 
till  the  cooper  seems  suddenly  to  turn '  a  screw 
which  has  long  been  evidently  loose,  and  shoots 
you  out  into  the  stupefying  open  air.  The  chief 
features  of  such  a  visit  are  gravely  treated  by  a 
writer  in  Household  Words : — 

"Proceeding  down  the  dock-yard,"  says  the 
writer  in  question,  "  you  see  b,efore  you  a  large  area- 
literally  paved  with  wine-casks,  all  full  of  the  most 
excellent  wines.  On  our  last  visit,  the  wine  then 
covering  the  ground  was  delicious  Bordeaux,  as 
you  might  easily  convince  yourself  by  dipping  a 
finger  into  the  bunghole  of  any  cask ;  as,  for  some 
piurpose  of  measurement  or  testing  the  quality,  the 
casks  were  most  of  them  open.  This  is,  in  fact, 
the  great  depot  of  the  wine  of  the  London  mer- 
chants, no  less  than  60,000  pipes  being  capable  of 
being  stored  away  in  the  vaults  here.  One  vault 
alone,  which  formerly  was  seven  acres,  has  now 
been  extended  under  Gravel  Lane,  so  that  at  pre- 
sent it  contains  upwards  of  twelve  acres.  These 
vaults  are  faintly  lit  with  lamps,  but,  on  going  in, 
you  are  at  the  entrance  accosted  with  the  singular 
demand,  'Do  you  want  a  cooper?'  Many  people, 
not  knowing  its  meaning,  say,  '  No,'  by  no  means.' 
The  meaning  of  the  phrase  is,  '  Do  you  want  to 
taste  the  wines  ?'  when  a  cooper  accompanies  you, 
to  pierce  the  casks  and  give  you  the  wine.  Parties 
are  every  day,  and  all  day  long,  making  these  ex- 
ploratory and  tasting  expeditions.  Every  one,  on 
entering,  is  presented  with  a  lamp,  at  the  end  of  a 
lath  about  two  feet  long,  and  you  soon  find  your- 
selves in  some  of  the  most  remarkable  caving  in 
the  world.  From  the  dark  vaulted  roof  overhead, 
especially  in  one  vault,  hang  strange  figures,  black 
as  night,  light  as  gossamer,  and  of  a  yard  or  more 
of  length,  resembling  skins  of  beasts,  or  old  shirts 
dipped  in  soot.  They  are  fed  to  this  strange 
growth  by  the  fumes  of  the  wine.  For  those  who 
taste  the  wines  the  cooper  bores  the  heads  of  the 
pipes,  which  are  ranged  throughout  these  vast  cellars 
on  either  hand,  in  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands. 


and  draws  a  glassful.  These  glasses,  though  shaped 
as  wine-glasses,  resemble  much  more  goblets  in 
their  size,  aontaining  each  as  much  as  several 
ordinary  wine-glasses.  What  you  do  not  drink  is 
thrown  upon  the  ground ;  and  it  is  calculated  that 
at  least  a  hogshead  a  day  is  thus  consumed." 

In  the  centre  of  the  great  east  vault  of  the  wine 
cellars,  you  come  to  a  circular  building  without  any 
entrance ;  it  is  the  root  and  foundation  of  the 
Queen's  Pipe.  Quitting  the  vault  and  ascending  to 
the  warehouse  over  it,  you  find  that  you  are  in  the 
great  tobacco  warehouse,  called  the  Queen's  Ware- 
house, because  the  Government  rent  the  tobacco 
warehouses  here  for  ;£i4,ooo  per  annum.  "This 
one  warehouse  has  no  equal,"  says  a  writer  on  the 
subject,  "in  any  other  part  of  the  world;  it  is  five 
acres  in  extent,  and  yet  it  is  covered'  with  a  roof, 
the  framework  of  which  is  of  iron,  erected,  we  be- 
lieve, by  Mr.  Barry,  the  architect  of  the  new  Houses 
of  Parliament,  and  of  so  light  and  skilful  a  con- 
struction, that  it  admits  of  a  view  of  the  whole 
place ;  and  so  slender  are  the  pillars,  that  the  roof 
seems  almost  to  rest  upon  nothing.  Under  this 
roof  is  piled  a  vast  mass  of  tobacco  in  huge  casks,  in 
double  tiers — that  is,  two  casks  in  height.  This  ware- 
house is  said  to  hold,  when  full,  24,000  hogsheads 
averaging  1,200  pounds  each,  and  equal  to  30,000 
tons  of  general  merchandise.  Each  cask  is  said  to 
be  worth,  duty  included,  ;^2oo,  giving  a  sum  total 
of  tobacco  in  this  one  warehouse,  when  filled, 
of  ;^4,8oo,ooo  in  value !  Besides  this  there  is 
another  warehouse  of  nearly  equal  size,  where  finer 
kinds  of  tobacco  are  deposited,  many  of  them  in 
packages  of  buffalo-hide,  marked  'Giron,'  and 
Manilla  for  cheroots,  in  packages  of  sacking  lined 
with  palmetto-leaves.  There  is  still  another  ware- 
house for  cigars,  called  the  Cigar  Floor,  in  which 
there  are  frequently  1,500  chests,  valued  at  ;^ioo 
each,  at  an  average,  or  ;^i  50,000  in  cigars  alone." 

The  dock  kiln,  or  "the  Queen's  Pipe,"  are 
objects  of  general  curiosity  not  to  be  forgotten  in 
our  description  of  the  London  Docks.  The  kiln 
is  the  place  where  useless  or  damaged  goods  that 
have  not  paid  duty  are  destroyed.  It  is  facetiously 
called  "the  Queen's  Pipe"  by  the  Custom  House 
clerks  and  tide-waiters. 

"On  a  guide-post  in  the  docks  is  painted  in  large 
letters, '  To  the  kiln.'  Following  this  direction,  you 
arrive  at  the  centre  of  the  warehouse,  and  at  the 
Queen's  Pipe.  You  enter  a  door  on  which  is  rudely 
painted  the  crown  royal  and  the  initials  '  V.  R.,' 
and  find  yourself  in  a  room  of  considerable  size,  in 
the  centre  of  which  towers  up  the  kiln,  a  furnace 
of  the  conical  kind,  like  a  glass-house  or  porcelain 
furnace ;  on  the  door  of  the  furnace  is  again  painted 


126 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


fThe  London  Docks. 


the  crown  and  the  '  V.  R.'  Here  you  find  in  the 
furnace  a  huge  mass  of  fire,  and  around  are  heaps 
of  damaged  tobacco,  tea,  and  other  articles,  ready 
to  be  flung  upon  it.  This  fire  never  goes  out  day 
or  night  from  year  to  year.  There  is  an  attendant 
who  suppKes  it  with  its  fuel  as  it  can  take  it,  and 


some  time  ago  set  the  chimney  of  the  kiln  on  fire, 
is  now  rarely  burnt ;  and  strange  are  the  things  that 
sometimes  come  to  this  perpetually  burning  furnace. 
On  one  occasion,  the  attendant  informed  us  he 
burnt  900  Australian  mutton-hams.  These  were 
warehoused  before  the  duty  came  off.     The  owner 


THE  TOWER   SUBWAY. 


men,  during  the  day-time,  constantly  coming  laden 
with  great  loads  of  tobacco,  cigars,  and  other  stuff, 
condemned  to  tlie  flames.  Wliatever  is  forfeited, 
and  is  too  bad  for  sale,  be  it  what  it  will,  is  doomed 
to  the  kiln.  At  the  other  docks  damaged  goods,  we 
were  assured,  are  buried  till  they  are  partly  rotten, 
and  then  taken  up  and  disposed  of  as  rubbish  or 
manure.  Here  the  Queen's  Pipe  smokes  all  up, 
except  the  greater  quantity  of  the  tea,  which,  having 


suffered  them  to  remain  till  the  duty  ceased,  in 
hopes  of  their  being  exempt  from  it ;  but  this  not 
being  allowed,  they  were  left  till  so  damaged  as  to 
be  unsaleable.  Yet  a  good  many,  the  man  de- 
clared, were  excellent;  and  he  often  made  a  capital 
addition  to  his  breakfast  from  the  roast  that,  for 
some  time,  was  so  odoriferously  going  on.  On 
another  occasion  he  burnt  13,000  pairs  of  con- 
demned French  gloves."  {Household  Word's,  ii.  3S7-) 


The  London  Docks.] 


THE  QUEEN'S  PIPE. 


127 


THE  THAMES  TUNNEL  (as  it  appeared  when  originally  opened  for  traffic). 


tag 


OLD  ANt)  NEAV  LONDON. 


[The  Thames  Tunnel. 


"  In  one  department  of  the  place,"  says  the  same 
writer,  "often  lie  many  tons  of  the  ashes  from 
the  furnace,  which  are  sold  by  auction,  by  the 
ton,  to  gardeners  and  fkrmers,  as  manure  and  for 
killing  insects,  to  soap-boilers,  and  chemical  manu- 
facturers. In  a  comer  are  generally  to  be  found 
piled  cart-loads  of  nails,  and  other  pieces  of  iron, 
which  have  been  swept  up  from  the  floors,  or  which 


have  remained  in  the  broken  pieces  of  casks  and 
boxes  which  go  to  the  kiln..  Those  which  have 
been  sifted  from  the  ashes  are  eagerly  bought  up 
by  gunsmiths,  sorted,  and  used  in  the  manufacture 
of  gun-barrels,  for  which  purpose  they  are  highly 
esteemed,  as  possessing  a  toughness  beyond  all 
other  iron,  and  therefore  calculated  pre-eminently 
to  prevent  bursting." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  THAMES  TUNNEL,   RATCLIFF   HIGHWAY,   AND   WAPPING. 

Sub-river  Tunnels  in  the  Coal-mining  Districts— First  Proposals  for  a  Tunnel  under  the  Thames— Its  Coramenoeinent— A  Dangerous  Irruption- 
Brave  Labourers— A  Terrible  Crisis— Narrow  Escapes— The  Last  Irruptions— The  Tunnel  opened  for  Traffic— Ratcliff  Highway— The 
Wild  Beast  Shops— The  Marr  and  Williamson  Murders— Swedenborg—Wapping— Hanging  the  Pirates  in  Chains— Townsend's  Evidence- 
Capture  of  Jeffreys— Stag  Hunting  in  Wapping— Boswell's  Futile  Exploration- The  Fuchsia— Public-house  Signs— Wapping  Old  Stairs— 
Shadwell  and  its  Springs. 


SuB-siVER  tunnels  are  not  urifrequent  in  the  coal- 
mining districts  of  the  north  of  England.  The 
beds  of  both  the  Tyne  and  the  Wear  are  pierced 
in  this  manner ;  while  at  Whitehaven,  and  at  the 
Eotallack  mines  in  Cornwall,  the  bed  of  the  ocean 
has  been  penetrated  for  long  distances,  the  tunnel 
at  the  former  place  extending  upwards  of  a  mile 
beneath  the  sea.  At  the  close  of  the  last  century 
a  North-country  engineer  proposed  a  sub-aqueous 
passage  to  connect  North  and  South  Shields, 
but  the  scheme  was  never  carried  out.  The 
same  gentleman  then  proposed  the  tunnel  from 
Gravesend  to  Tilbury,  mentioned  by  us  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapter ;  but  it  was  soon  abandoned  as  im- 
practicable, as  was  also  a  Cornish  miner's  proposal 
to  connect  Rotherhithe  with  Limehouse. 

In  1823,  however,  a  bolder,  more  reckless,  and 
far-seeing  mind  took  up  the  project,  and  Mr.  Brunei 
(tacked  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  the  eminent 
Dr.  WoUaston)  seriously  submitted  a  plan  of  a 
tunnel  to  the  public,  and  so  practical  a  man  soon 
obtained  listeners.  With  his  usual  imaginative 
sagacity  he  had  gone  to  Nature,  and  there  found 
allies.  The  hard  cylindrical  shell  of  the  soft-footed 
teredo  {Calamitas  navium,  as  Linnaeus  calls  it), 
which  eats  its  way,  in  small  tubular  tunne^ls,  even 
through  the  tough  timbers  of  men-of-war,  had  sug- 
gested to  the  great  engineer  a  shield  under  which 
his  workmen  could  shelter. 

The  communication  between  the  Surrey  shore 
*nd  the  Wapping  side  was  most  important,  as  the 
wharves  for  the  coasting  trade  of  England  lay 
chiefly  on  the  Surrey  bank,  and  traffic  had  to  be 
conveyed  by  carts  to  the  Tower-side  ducks.  In 
1829,  of  887  wagons  and  3,241  carts  that  passed 


over  London  Bridge  southwards,  480  of  the  first 
and  1,700  of  the  second  were  found  to  turn  down 
Tooley  Street.  It  was  also  ascertained  that  the  350 
watermen  of  the  neighbourhood  took  over  the 
Thames  no  less  than  3,700  passengers  daily. 

In  1824  a  company  was  formed  to  construct  a 
tunnel,  and  an  Act  of  Parliament  was  obtained. 
The  preliminary  step  was  three  parallel  borings, 
like  cheese-tastings,  made  beneath  the  bed  of  the 
Thames,  in  the  direction  of  the  proposed  tunnel. 
As  to  the  level  to  be  taken,  Mr.  Brunei  consulted 
the  geologists,  who  for  once  were  not  happy  in 
their  theories.  They  informed  the  engineer  that 
below  a  certain  depth  a  quicksand  would  be  found, 
and  he  must  therefore  keep  above  it,  and  as  close 
as  possible  to  the  stratum  of  firm  clay  forming  the 
bed  of  the  river.  The  Tower  Subway  has  since 
shown  the  abs.inrdity  of  this  theory,  and  the  folly 
of  not  making  preliminary  experiments,  however 
costly.  If  the  tunnel  had  been  begun  in  a  different 
place,  and  at  the  deep  level  of  the  Tower  Subway, 
Mr.  Brunei  would  have  saved  twenty  years  of 
labour,  many  lives,  and  about  a  quarter  of  a  million 
o.^  money. 

In  March,  1825,  the  laborious  and  for  a  long  time 
unsuccessful  work  was  begun,  by  erecting  a  round 
brick  cylinder  42  feet  high,  150  feet  in  circum- 
ference, and  150  feet  distant  from  the  river.  The 
excavators  then  commenced  on  the  inside,  cutting 
away  the  earth,  which  was  raised  to  the  top  of 
the  shaft  by  a  steam-engine  placed  there,  which 
also  relieved  them  from  the  water  that  occasionally 
impeded  their  progress.  The  engine  raised  400 
gallons  a  minute,  and  at  a  later  stage  served  to 
draw  carriages  _along  the  temporary  tunnel  railway. 


The  Thames  Tunnel.] 


A  DANGEROUS  IRRUPTION   OF  THE  RIVER. 


129 


and  also  hoisted  up  and  let  down  all  things  required 
by  the  masons.  The  bricklayers  kept  heightening 
their  little  circular  fort  as  they  themselves  sank 
deeper  in  the  earth.  By  this  shaft  Mr.  Brunei  con- 
gratulated himself  he  had  evaded  the  bed  of  gravel 
and  sand  26  feet  deep,  and  full  of  land-water,  which 
had  annoyed  his  predecessors.  When  the  shaft 
was  sunk  to  its  present  depth  of  65  feet,  another 
shaft  of  35  feet  diameter  was  sunk  lower;  and  at 
the  depth  of  80  feet  the  ground  suddenly  gave  way, 
and  sand  and  water  were,  as  Mr.  Saunders  describes 
it,  "  blown  up  with  some  violence." 

The  tunnel  itself  was  begun  at  the  depth  of  63 
feet  Mr.  Brunei  proposed  to  make  his  tunnel  38 
feet  broad  and  22^  feet  high,  leaving  room  within 
for  two  archways  each  15  feet  high,  and  each  wide 
enough  for  a  single  carriage-way  and  a  footpath. 
The  wonderful  teredo  shield,  a  great  invention  for  a 
special  object,  consisted  of  twelve  separate  divisions, 
each  containing  three  cells,  one  above  another. 
When  an  advance  was  required,  the  men  in  their 
cells  pulled  down  the  top  poling-board  defences, 
and  cut  away  the  earth  about  six  inches;  the  poling- 
boards  in  each  division  below  were  then  seriatim 
removed,  and  the  same  amount  of  earth  removed, 
and  then  replaced.  "  Each  of  the  divisions,"  says  a 
describer  of  the  shield,  "  was  then  advanced  by  the 
application  of  two  screws,  one  at  its  head  and  one 
at  its  foot,, which,  resting  against  the  finished  brick- 
work of  the  tunnel,  impelled  the  shield  forward 
into  the  new-cut  space.  The  other  set  of  divisions 
then  advanced."  As  the  miners  were  at  work 
at  one  end  of  the  cells,  the  bricklayers  at  the  other 
were  busy  as  bees  forming  the  brick  walls  of  the 
tunnel,  top,  sides,  and  bottom,  the  crushing  earth 
.above  being  fended  off  by  the  shield  till  the 
bricklayers  had  finished.  Following  the  shield  was 
a  rolling  stage  in  each  archway,  for  the  assistance 
of  the  men  in  the  upper  cells. 

The  difficulties,  however,  from  not  keeping  to 
the  stiff,  firm,  and  impervious  London  clay,  proved 
almost  insuperable,  even  to  Mr.  Brunei.  The 
first  nine  feet  of  the  tunnel,  driven  through  firm 
clay,  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  1826,  were 
followed  by  a  dangerously-loose  watery  sand, 
which  cost  thirty-two  anxious  days'  labour.  From 
March  to  September  all  went  well,  and  260  feet  of 
the  tunnel  were  completed.  On  the  14th  of  Sep- 
tember Brunei  prophesied  an  irruption  of  the  river 
at  the  next  tide.  It  came,  but  the  precautions 
taken  had  rendered  it  harmless.  By  the  2nd  of 
January,  1827, 350  feet  were  accomplished, but  loose 
clay  forced  itself  through  the  shield.  In  April,  the 
bed  of  the  river  had  to  be  explored  in  a  diving- 
bell.     Bags  of  clay  were  used  to  fill  up  depressions. 


A  shovel  and  hammer,  accidentally  left  in  the  river, 
were  afterwards  found  in  the  shield  during  an  influx 
of  loose  ground,  eighteen  feet  below.  In  May, 
however,  came  the  long-expected  disaster,  chiefly 
caused  by  two  vessels  coming  in  at  a  late  tide,  and 
mooring  just  above  the  head  of  the  tunnel,  causing 
a  great  washing  away  of  the  soil  round  them.  Mr. 
Beamish,  the  resident  assistant  engineer,  thus  gra- 
phically describes  the  irruption  : — 

"As  the  water,"  he  writes,  "  rose  with  the  tide,  it 
increased  in  the  frames  very  considerably  between 
Nos.  s  and  6,  forcing  its  way  at  the  front,  then  at 
the  back ;  Ball  and  Compton  (the  occupants)  most 
active.  About  a  quarter  before  six  o'clock,  No. 
1 1  (division)  went  forward.  Clay  appeared  at  the 
back.  Had  it  closed  up  immediately.  While  this 
was  going  forward  my  attention  was  again  drawn  to 
No.  6,  where  I  found  the  gravel  forcing  itself  with 
the  water.  It  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that 
Ball  could  keep  anything  against  the  opening. 
Fearing  that  the  pumpers  would  now  become 
alarmed,  as  they  had  been  once  or  twice  before, 
and  leave  their  post,  I  went  upon  the  east  stage  to 
encourage  them,  and  to  choose  more  shoring  for 
Ball.  Goodwin,  who  was  engaged  at  No.  11,  where 
indications  of  a  run  appeared,  called  to  Rogers, 
who  was  in  the  act  of  working  down  No.  9,  to 
come  to  his  assistance.  But  Rogers,  having  his 
second  poling  (board)  down,  could  not.  Goodwin 
again  called.  I  then  said  to  Rogers,  "  Don't  you 
hear?"  upon  which  he  left  his  poling  for  the 
purpose  of  assisting  Goodwin;  but  before  he  could 
get  to  him,  and  before  I  could  get  fairly  into  the 
frames,  there  poured  such  an  overwhelming  volume 
of  water  and  sludge  as  to  force  them  out  of  the 
frames.  William  Carps,  a  bricklayer,  who  had 
gone  to  Goodwin's  assistance,  was  knocked  down 
and  literally  rolled  out  of  the  firames  on  the  stage, 
as  though  he  had  come  through  a  mill-sluice,  and 
would  undoubtedly  have  fallen  off  the  stage  had  I 
not  caught  hold  of  him,  and  with  Rogers'  assistance 
helped  him  down  the  ladder.  I  again  made  an 
attempt  to  get  into  the  frames,  calUng  upon  the 
miners  to  follow ;  but  all  was  dark  (the  lights  at 
the  frames  and  stage  being  all  blown  out),  and  I 
was  only  answered  by  the  hoarse  and  angry  sounds 
of  Father  Thames's  roarings.  Rogers  (an  old 
sergeant  of  the  Guards),  the  only  man  left  upon  the 
stage,  now  caught  my  arm,  and  gently  drawing  me 
from  the  frames,  said,  '  Come  away,  pray,  sir,  come 
away;  'tis  no  use,  the  water  is  rising  fast.'  I 
turned  once  more ;  but  hearing  an  increased  rush 
at  No.  6,  and  finding  the  column  of  water  at  Nos. 
II  and  12  to  be  augmenting,  I  reluctantly  de- 
scended.   The  cement  casks,  compo-boxes,  pieces 


130 


OLD  AND  NEW   LONDON. 


[The  Thames  Tunnel. 


of  timber  were  floating  around  me.  I  turned  into 
the  west  arch,  where  the  enemy  had  not  yet  ad- 
vanced so  rapidly,  and  again  looked  towards  the 
frames,  lest  some  one  might  have  been  overtaken  ; 
but  the  cement  casks,  &c.,  striking  my  legs, 
threatened  seriously  to  obstruct  my  retreat,  and  it 
was  with  some  difficulty  I  reached  the  visitors' 
bar  "  (a  bar  so  placed  as  to  keep  the  visitors  from 
the  unfinished  works),  "  where  Mayo,  Bertram,  and 
others  were  anxiously  waiting  to  receive  me.  .  .  . 
I  was  glad  of  their  assistance  ;  indeed.  Mayo  fairly 
dragged  me  over  it.  Not  bearing  the  idea  of  so 
precipitate  a  retreat,  I  turned  once  more;  but 
vain  was  the  hope  !  The  wave  rolled  onward  and 
onward ;  the  men  retreated,  and  I  followed.  Met 
Gravatt  coming  down.  Short  was  the  question,  and 
brief  was  the  answer.  As  we  approached  I  met 
L  [Isambard]  Brunei.  We  turned  round:  the  effect 
was  splendid  beyond  description.  The  water  as  it 
rose  became  more  and  more  vivid,  from  the  reflected 
lights  of  the  gas.  As  we  reached  the  staircase  a 
crash  was  heard,  and  then  a  rush  of  air  at  once 

extinguished  all  the  lights Now  it  was 

that  I  experienced  something  like  dread.  I  looked 
up  the  shaft,  and  saw  both  stairs  crowded;  I  looked 
below,  and  beheld  the  overwhelming  wave  appearing 
to  move  with  accumulated  velocity. 

"  Dreading  the  effect  of  the  reaction  of  this  wave 
from  the  back  of  the  shaft  upon  our  staircase,  I 
exclaimed  to  Mr.  Gravatt,  '  The  staircase  will-  blow 
up!'  I.  Brunei  ordered  the  men  to  get  up. with 
all  expedition ;  and  our  feet  were  scarcely  off  the 
bottom  stairs  when  the  first  flight,  which  we  had 
just  left,  was  swept  away.  Upon  our  reaching  the 
top,  a  bustling  noise  assailed  our  ears,  some  calling 
for  a  raft,  others  for  a  boat,  and  others  again  a 
rope;  from  which  it  was  evident  that  some  un- 
fortunate individual  was  in  the  water.  I.  Brunei 
instantly,  with  that  presence  of  mind  to  which  I 
have  been  more  than  once  witness,  slid  down  one 
of  the  iron  ties,  and  after  him  Mr.  Gravatt,  each 
making  a  rope  fast  to  old  Tillet's  waist,  who,  having 
been  looking  after  the  packing  of  the  pumps  below 
the  shaft,  was  overtaken  by  the  flood.  He  was 
soon  placed  out  of  danger.  The  roll  was  imme- 
diately called — not  one  absents 

The  next  step  was  to  repair  the  hole  in  the  river- 
bed. Its  position  being  ascertained  by  the  diving- 
bell,  three  thousand  bags  of  clay,  spiked  with  small 
hazelrods,  were  employed  to  effectually  close  it. 
In  a  few  weeks  the  water  was  got  under,  and  by 
the  middle  of  August  the  tunnel  was  cleared  of  the 
soil  that  had  washed  in,  and  the  engineer  was 
able  to  examine  his  shattered  fortifications.  In  all 
essentials  the  structure  remained  perfectly  sound, 


though  a  part. of  the  brickwork  close  to  the  shield 
had  been  washed  away  to  half  its  original  thickness, 
and  the  chain  which  had  held  together  the  divisions 
of  the  shield  had  snapped  like  a  cotton  thread. 
The  enemy — so  powerless  when  kept  at  a  distance, 
so  irresistible  at  its  full  strength — ^had  driven  deep 
into  the  ground  heavy  pieces  of  iron  belonging  to 
the  shield. 

Amid  all  these  dangers  the  men  displayed  great 
courage  and  perseverance.  Brunei's  genius  had 
roused  them  to  a  noble  and  generous  disregard  of 
the  opposing  principles  of  nature.  The  alarms 
were  frequent,  the  apprehension  incessant.  At  any 
moment  the  .deluge  might  come;  and  the  men 
worked,  like  labourers  in  a  dangerous  coal  mine,  in 
constant  terror  from  either  fire  or  water.  Now  and 
then  a  report  like  a  cannon-shot  would  announce 
the  snap  of  some  portion  of  the  overstrained 
shield ;  sometimes  there  were  frightened  cries  firom 
the  foremost  workers,  as  the  earth  and  water 
rushed  in  and  threatened  to  sweep  all  before  them. 
At  the  same  time  during  these  alarming  irruptions, 
large  quantities  of  carburetted  and  sulphuretted 
hydrogen  would  burst  into  fire,  and  wrap  the  whole 
place  in  a  sudden  sheet  of  flame.  Those  who  wit- 
nessed these  explosions  describe  the  effect  of  the 
fire  dancing  on  the  surface  of  the  water  as  singularly 
beautiful.  The  miners  and  bricklayers,  encouraged 
by  the  steadfast  hand  at  the  helm,  got  quite  accus- 
tomed to  these  outbursts,  and,  at  the  shout  of 
"  Fire  and  water  !"  used  to  cry,  "  Light  your  pipes, 
my  boys,''  reckless  as  soldiers  in  the  trenches. 

But  still  worse  than  these  violent  protests  of 
Nature  was  a  more  subtle  and  deadly  enemy.  The 
air  grew  so  thick  and  impure,  especially  in  summer, 
that  sometimes  the  most  stalwart  labourers  were 
carried  out  insensible,  and  all  the  workmen  suffered 
from  headache,  sickness,  and  cutaneous  eruptions. 
It  was  a  great  struggle,  nobly  borne.  They  shared 
Brunei's  anxieties,  and  were  eager  for  a  share  of 
his  fame,  for  he  had  inspired  the  humblest  hodman 
with  something  of  his  own  high  impulse.  "  It  was 
touching,"  writes  a  chronicler  of  the  tunnel,  "to 
hear  the  men  speak  of  Brunei.  As  in  their  waking 
hours  these  men  could  have  no  thought  but  of  the 
tunnel,  so,  no  doubt,  did  the  eternal  subject  con- 
stantly mingle  with  their  dreams,  and  harass  them 
with  unreal  dangers.  One  amusing  instance  may 
be  mentioned.  Whilst  Mr.  Brunei,  jun.,  was  en- 
gaged one  midnight  superintending  the  progress  of 
the  work,  he  and  those  with  him  were  alarmed  by 
a  sudden  cry  of  '  The  water !  the  water  ! — wedges 
and  straw  here  !'  followed  by  an  appaUing  silence. 
Mr.  Brunei  hastened  to  the  spot,  where  the  men 
were  found  perfectly  safe.     They  had  fallen  fast 


The  Thames  Tunnel.] 


A  TERRIBLE  CRISIS. 


131 


asleep  from  fatigue,  and  one  of  them  had  been 
evidently  dreaming  of  a  new  irruption." 

By  January,  1828,  the  middle  of  the  river  had 
been  reached,  and  no  human  life  had  yet  been 
sacrificed.  But,  as  if  the  evil  principle  had  only 
retired  to  prepare  for  a  fresh  attack,  a  terrible  crisis 
now  came.  "  I  had  been  in  the  frames,"  says  Mr. 
Brunei,  jun.,  in  a  letter  written  to  the  directors  on 
the  fatal  Saturday,  August  12th,  1828,  "with  the 
workmen  throughout  the  whole  night,  having  taken 
my  station  there  at  ten  o'clock.  During  the  workings 
through  the  night  no  symptoms  of  insecurity  ap- 
peared. At  six  o'clock  this  morning  (the  usual 
time  for  shifting  the  men)  a  fresh  set  came  on  to 
work.  We  began  to  work  the  ground  at  the  west 
top  comer  of  the  frame.  The  tide  had  just  then 
begun  to  flow,  and  finding  the  ground  tolerably 
quiet,  we  proceeded  by  beginning  at  the  top,  and 
had  worked  about  a  foot  downwards,  when,  on 
exposing  the  next  six  inches,  the  ground  swelled 
suddenly,  and  a  large  quantity  burst  through  the 
opening  thus  made.  This  was  followed  instantly 
by  a  large  body  of  water.  The  rush  was  so  violent 
as  to  force  the  man  on  the  spot  where  the  burst 
took  place  out  of  the  frame  (or  cell)  on  to  the 
timber  stage  behind  the  frames.  I  was  in  the  frame 
with  the  man ;  but  upon  ^he  rush  of  the  water  I 
went  into  the  next  box,  in  order  to  command  a 
better  view  of  the  irruption ;  and  seeing  there  was 
no  possibility  of  their  opposing  the  water,  I  ordered 
all  the  men  in  the  frames  to  retire.  All  were  re- 
tiring except  the  three  men  who  were  with  me,  and 
they  retreated  with  me.  I  did  not  leave  the  stage 
until  those  three  men  were  down  the  ladder  of  the 
frames,  when  they  and  I  proceeded  about  twenty 
feet  along  the  west  arch  of  the  tunnel.  At  this 
moment  the  agitation  of  the  air  by  the  rush  of  the 
water  was  such  as  to  extinguish  all  the  lights,  and 
the  water  had  gained  the  height  of  the  middle  of 
our  waists.  I  was  at  that  moment  giving  directions 
to  the  three  men,  in  what  manner  they  ought  to 
proceed  in  the  dark  to  effect  their  escape,  when 
they  and  I  were  knocked  down  and  covered  by  a 
part  of  the  timber  stage.  I  struggled  under  water 
for  some  time,  and  at  length  extricated  myself  from 
the  stage ;  and  by  swimming  and  being  forced  by 
the  water,  I  gained  the  eastern  arch,  where  I  got  a 
better  footing,  and  was  enabled,  by  la3Tng  hold  of 
the  railway  rope,  to  pause  a  little,  in  the  hope  of 
encouraging  the  men  who  had  been  knocked  down 
at  the  same  time  with  myself.  .This  I  endeavoured 
to  do  by  calling  to  them.  Before  I  reached  the 
shaft  the  water  had  risen  so  rapidly  that  I  was  out 
pf  niy  depth,  and  therefore  swam  to  the  visitors' 
stairs,  the  stairs  of  the  workmen  being  occupied  by 


thfflse  who  had  so  far  escaped.  My  knee  was  so 
injured  by  the  timber  stage  that  I  could  scarcely 
swim  or  get  up  the  stairs,  but  t}ie  rush  of  the  water 
carried  me  up  the  shaft.  The  three  men  who  had 
been  knocked  down  with  me  were  unable  to  ex- 
tricate themselves,  and  I  grieve  to  say  they  are 
lost,  and,  I  believe,  also  two  old  men  and  one 
young  man  in  other  parts  of  the  work." 

This  was  a  crisis  indeed.  The  alarmists  grew 
into  a  majority,  and  the  funds  of  the  company  were 
exhausted.  The  hole  in  the  river-bed  was  dis- 
covered by  the  divers  to  be  very  formidable ;  it 
was  oblong  and  perpendicular,  and  measured  about 
seven  feet  in  length.  The  old  mode  of  mending  was 
resorted  to.  Four  thousand  tons  of  earth  (chiefly 
clay,  in  bags)  were  employed  to  patch  the  place. 
The  tunnel  remained  as  substantial  as  ever,  but 
the  work  was  for  seven  years  suspended.  Brunei, 
whose  tenacity  of  purpose  was  unshakable,  was 
almost  in  a  state  of  frenzy  at  this  accident.  So  far 
his  plan  had  apparently  failed,  but  the  engineer's 
star  had  noi  yet  forsaken  him.  In  January,  1835, 
the  Government,  after  many  applications,  agreed  to 
make  some  advances  for  the  continuation  of  the 
work,  and  it  was  once  more  resumed  with  energy. 
The  progress  was  at  first  very  slow ;  for,  of  sixty- 
six  weeks,  two  feet  four  inches  only  per  week  were 
accompUshed  during  the  first  eighteen,  three  feet 
nine  inches  per  week  during  the  second  eighteen, 
one  foot  per  week  during  the  third  eighteen,  and 
during  the  last  twelve  weeks  only  three  feet  fouir 
inches  altogether.  This  will  excite  little  surprise 
when  we  know,  says  a  clever  writer  on  the  subject^ 
that  the  ground  in  front  of  the  shield  was,  from  ex- 
cessive saturation,  almost  constantly  in  little  better 
than  a  fluid  state;  that  an  entire  new  and  arti- 
ficial bed  had  to  be  formed  in  the  river  in  advance ; 
and  brought  down  by  ingenious  contrivances  till  it 
was  deep  enough  to  occupy  the  place  of  the  natural 
soil  where  the  excavation  was  to  be  made,  and  that 
then  there  must  be  time  allowed  for  its  settlement^ 
whenever  the  warning  rush  of  sand  and  water  was 
heard  in  the  shield.  Lastly,  owing  to  the  excava- 
tion being  so  much  below  that  of  any  other  works 
around  the  tunnel,  it  formed  a  drain  and  receptacle 
for  all  the  water  of  the  neighbourhood.  This  was 
ultimately  remedied  by  the  sinking  of  the  shaft  on 
the  Wapping  side.  Yet  it  was  under  such  circum- 
stances that  the  old  shield  injured  by  the  last 
irruption  .was  taken  away  and  replaced  by  a  new 
one.  This  was  executed  by  Brunei  without  the 
loss  of  a  single  life.  But  now  fresh  difficulties 
arose  :  the  expenditure  had  been  so  great  that  the 
Lords  of  the  Treasury  declined  to  make  furthei- 
advances  without  the  sanction  of  Parliament.     The 


133 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Thames  Tunnel, 


examination  of  Mr.  Brunei  and  the  assistant  engi- 
neers before  a  Parliamentary  Committee  led,  how- 
ever, to  favourable  results,  and  the  work  was  again 
renewed. 

In  August,  1837,  a  third  irruption  and  several 
narrow  escapes  occurred.     The  water  had  gradu- 


a  platform  constructed  by  Mr.  Brunei  in  the  east 
arch  only  a  few  weeks  before.  As  the  water  still  con- 
tinued rising,  after  the  men  left,  Mr.  Page,  the  actmg 
engineer,  and  four  others,  got  into  the  boat,  in 
order  to  reach  the  stages  and  see  if  any  change  had 
taken  place ;  but  after  passing  the  600  feet  mark  in 


A  WILD-BEAST  SHOP.     (Seepage  134.) 


ally  increased  at  the  east  comer,  since  two  p.m. 
on  the  23rd,  rushing  into  the  shield  with  a  hollow 
roar,  as  though  it  fell  through  a  cavity  in  the  river- 
bed. A  boat  was  then  sent  into  the  tunnel,  to 
convey  material  to  block  up  the  frames.  Notwith- 
standing, the  water  gained  upon  the  men,  and 
rapidly  rose  in  the  tunnel.  About  four  p.m.,  the 
water  having  risen  to  within  seven  feet  of  the  crown 
of  the  arch,  it  was  thought  wise  for  the  men  to 
retire,  which  they  did   with  great  courage,  along 


the  tunnel  the  line  attached  to  the  boat  ran  out,  and 
they  returned  to  lengthen  it.  This  accident  saved 
their  lives,  for  while  they  were  preparing  the  rope 
the  water  surged  up  the  arch  ten  or  tivelve  feet. 
They  instantly  made  their  way  to  the  shaft,  and 
Mr.  Page,  fearing  the  men  might  get  jammed  in 
the  staircase,  called  to  them  to  go  steadily ;  but 
they,  misunderstanding  him,  returned,  and  could 
hardly  be  preva;iled  upon  to  go  up.  Had  the  line 
been  long  enough,  all  the  persons  in  the  boat  must 


The  Thames  Tunnel.] 


LAST  IRRUPTION  OF  THE  RIVER. 


133 


have  perished,  for  no  less  than  a  million  gallons  of 
water  now  burst  into  the  tunnel  in  a  single  minute. 
The  lower  gas-lights  were  now  under  water,  and 
the  tunnel  was  almost  in  darkness.  The  water 
had  now  risen  to  within  fifty  feet  of  the  entrance  of 
the  tunnel,  and  was  advancing  in  a  wave.  As 
Mr.  Page  and  his  assistants  arrived  at  the  second 
landing  of  the  visitots'  stairs,  the  waves  had  risen 
up  to  the  knees  of  the  last  man. 

The    next    irruption  was   in  November,   1837, 


ground  rushed  in  immediately,  and  knocked  the 
men  out  of  their  cells,  and  they  fled  in  a  panic ; 
but  finding  the  water  did  not  follow,  they  returned, 
and  by  great  exertions  succeeded  in  stopping  the 
run,  when  upwards  of  6,000  cubic  feet  of  ground 
had  fallen  into  the  tunnel.  The  faH  was  attended 
with  a  noise  like  thunder,  and  the  extinguishing  of 
all  the  lights.  At  the  same  time,  to  the  horror  of 
Wapping,  part  of  the  shore  in  that  place  sank, 
over  an  area  of  upwards  of  700  feet,  leaving  a 


ST.  dunstan's,  stepney.      {From  a  View  taken  in  I'&oi.) 


when  the  water  burst  m  about  four  in  the  morning, 
and  soon  filled  the  tunnel.  Excellent  arrangements 
had  been  made  for  the  safety  of  the  men,  and  all 
the  seventy  or  more  persons  employed  at  the  time 
escaped,  but  one — he  alone  did  not  answer  when 
the  roll  was  called ;  and  some  one  remembered 
seeing  a  miner  going  towards  the. shield  when  all 
the  rest  were  escaping.  The  fifth  and  last  serious 
irruption  occurred  on  March  6,  1838.  It  was  pre- 
ceded by  a  noise  resembling  thunder,  but  no  loss 
of  life  occurred. 

The  last  feeble  struggle  of  the  river  against  its 
persistent  enemy  was  in  April,  1840.  About  eight 
a.m.,  it  being  then  low  water,  during  a  movement 
of  the  poling-boards  in  the  shield,  a  quantity  of 
gravel  and  water   rushed  into  the  frame.     The 


cavity  on  the  shore  of  about  thirty  feet  in  diameter, 
and  thirteen  feet  in  depth.  Had  this  taken  place 
at  high  water,  the  tunnel  would  have  been  filled; 
as  it  was,  men  were  sent  over  with  bags  of  clay 
and  gravel,  and  everything  rendered  secure  by  the 
return  of  the  tide. 

Sometimes  sand,  nearly  fluid,  would  ooze  through 
minute  cracks  between  the  small  poling-boards  of 
the  shield,  and  leave  large  ca.vities  in  the  ground  in 
front.  On  one  of  these  occasions  the  sand  poured 
in  all  night,  and  filled  the  bottom  of  the  shield. 
In  the  morning,  on  opening  one  of  the  faces,  a 
hollow  was  discovered,  eighteen  feet  long,  six  feet 
high,  and  six  feet  deep.  This  cavity  was  filled  up 
with  brickbats  and  lumps  of  clay.  One  of  the 
miners  was  compelled  to  lay  himself  down  in  this 


134 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Ratcliff.  Highway. 


cavity,  for  the  purpose  of  building  up  the  further 
end,  though  at  the  risk  of  being  buried  alive. 

At  last,  on  the  13th  of  August,  1841,  Sir  Isambard 
Brunei  passed  down  the  shaft  on  the  Wapping  side 
of  the  Thames,  and  thence,  by  a  small  drift-way 
through  the  shield,  into  the  tunnel.  The  diffi- 
culties of  the  great  work  had  at  last  been  sur- 
mounted. 

The  tunnel  measures  1,200  feet.  The  carriage- 
ways were  originally  intended  to  consist  of  an 
immense  spiral  road,  winding  twice  round  a  circular 
excavation  57  feet  deep,  in  order  to  reach  the 
proper  level.  The  extreme  diameter  of  this  spiral 
road  was  to  be  no  less  than  200  feet.  The  road 
itself  was  to  have  been  40  feet  wide,  and  the 
descent  very  moderate.  The  tunnel  is  now  turned 
into  a  part  of  the  East  London  Railway,  which  will 
form  a  junction  between  the  Great  Eastern  Railway 
and  the  various  branches  of  the  Brighton  Railway 
on  the  south  of  the  Thames. 

Ratcliff  Highway,  now  called  St.  George  Street, 
is  the  Regent  Street  of  London  sailors,  who,  in 
many  instances,  never  extend  their  walks  in  the 
metropolis  beyond  this  semi-marine  region.  It 
derives  its  name  from  the  manor  of  Ratcliffe  in  the 
parish  of  Stepney.  Stow  describes  it  as  so  in- 
creased in  building  eastward  in  his  time  that, 
instead  of  a  large  highway,  "  with  fair  elm-trees  on 
both  the  sides,"  as  he  had  known  it,  it  had  joined 
Limehurst  or  Lime  host,  corruptly  called  Lime- 
house,  a  mile  distant  from  Ratcliffe.  In  Dryden's 
miscellaneous  poems,  Tom,  one  of  the  characters, 
remarks  that  he  had  heard  a  ballad  about  the 
Protector  Somerset  sung  at  Ratcliflf  Cross. 

The  wild-beast  shops  in  this  street  have  often 
been  sketched  by  modern  essayists.  The  yards  in 
the  neighbourhood  are  crammed  with  lions,  hyenas, 
pelicans,  tigers,  and  other  animals  in  demand  among 
the  proprietors  of  menageries.  As  many  as  ten  to 
fifteen  lions  are  often  in  stock  at  one  time,  and 
sailors'  come  here  to  sell  their  pets  and  barter 
curiosities.  The  ingenious  way  that  animals  are 
stored  in  these  out-of-the-way  places  is  well  worth 
seeing. 

Ratcliff  Highway  has  not  been  the  scene  of 
many  very  memorable  events.  In  181 1,  however, 
it  was  startled  by  a  series  of  murders  that  for  a  time 
struck  all  London  with  terror,  and  produced  a  deep 
conviction  in  the  public  mind  that  the  old  watch- 
men who  then  paraded  the  City  were  altogether 
insufficient  to  secure  the  safety  of  its  inhabitants. 
Mr.  Marr,  the  first  victim,  kept  a  lace  and  pelisse 
shop  at  No.  29,  Ratcliff  Highway.  At  about  twelve 
at  night  on  Saturday,  December  7, 1811,  he  sent  out 
his  servant-girl  to  purchase  some  oysters  for  supper, 


while  he  shut  up  the  shop-windows.  On  the  girl's 
return,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  she  rang  the  bell, 
but  obtained  no  answer.  As  she  listened  at  the 
key-hole,  she  thought  she  could  hear  a  person 
breathing  at  the  same  aperture  ;  she  therefore  gave 
the  alarm.  On  the  shop  being  broken  open,  Mr. 
Marr  was  found  dead  behind  the  counter,  Mrs.  Marr 
and  the  shop-boy  dead  in  another  part  of  the  shop, 
and  a  child  murdered  in  the  cradle.  The  murderer 
had,  it  was  supposed,  used  a  ship-mallet,  and  had 
evidently  come  in  on  pretence  of  purchasing  goods, 
as  Marr  had  been  reaching  down  some  stockings 
when  he  was  struck.  Very  little  if  any  money  was 
missed  from  the  till.  Twelve  days  after,  before  the 
horror  and  alarm  caused  by  these  murders  could 
subside,  other  crimes  followed.  On  the  19th  of 
December,  Williamson,  the  landlord  of  the  King's 
Arms  public-house.  Old  Gravel  Lane,  Ratcliff  High- 
way, with  his  wife,  and  female  servant  were  also 
murdered.  An  apprentice  who  lodged  at  .the 
house,  coming  down-stairs  in  alarm  at  hearing  a 
door  slam,  saw  the  murderer  stooping  and  taking 
the  keys  out  of  the  pocket  of  Mrs.  Williamson. 
The  murderer  heard  him,  and  pursued  him  up- 
stairs ;  but  the  lad,  fastening  his  sheets  to  a  bed, 
let  himself  down  out  of  window  into  the  street. 
The  murderer,  a  sailor  named  Williams,  escaped, 
though  the  house  was  almost  instantly  surrounded; 
but  was  soon  after  captured  at  a  sailors'  boardinjg- 
house,  where  a  knife  stained  with  blood  was  after- 
wards found  secreted.  The  wretch  hanged  himself 
in  prison  the  night  of  his  arrest.  His  body  was 
placed  on  a  platform  in  a  high  cart,  with  the  mallet 
and  ripping  chisel,  with  which  he  had  committed 
the  murders,  by  his  side,  and  driven  past  the  houses 
of  Marr  and  Williamson.  A  stake  was  then  driven 
through  his  breast,  and  his  carcase  thrown  into  a 
hole  dug  for  the  purpose,  where  the  New  Road 
crosses  and  Cannon  Street  Road  begins. 

It  was  remembered  afterwards,  by  a  girl  to  whom 
the  murderer  had  been  attached,  that  he  had  once 
asked  her  if  she  should  be  frightened  if  she  awoke 
in  the  night  and  saw  him  standing  with  a  knife  by 
her  bedside.  The  girl  replied,  "  I  should  feel  no 
fear,  Mr.  Williams,  when  I  saw  your  face."  Very 
little  was  discovered  of  the  man's  antecedents,  but 
it  is  said  that  the  captain  of  the  East  Indiaman  in 
which  he  had  sailed  had  predicted  his  speedy 
death  by  the  gallows.  These  murders  excited  the 
imagination  of  De  Quincey,  the  opium-eater,  who 
wrote  a  wonderful  though  not  strictly  accurate 
version  of  the  affair.  Macaulay,  writing  of  the 
alarm  in  England  at  the  supposed  murder  of  Sir 
Edmundbury  Godfrey,  says,  "  Many  of  our  readers 
can  remember  the  state  of  London  just  after  the 


Wapping.] 


EXECUTION   DOCK. 


135 


murder  of  Marr  and  Williamson ;  the  terror  which 
was  on  every  face ;  the  careful  barring  of  doors ; 
the  providing  of  blunderbusses  and  watchmen's 
rattles.  We  know  of  a  shopkeeper  who  on  that 
occasion  sold  300  rattles  in  about  ten  hours. 
Those  who  remember  that  panic  may  be  able  to 
form  some  notion  of  the  state  of  England  after  the 
death  of  Godfrey." 

In  the  Swedish  Church,  Princes  Square,  Ratcliif 
Highway,  lies  buried  that  extraordinary  man,  Baron 
Swedenborg,  founder  of  the  sect  of  Swedenborgians, 
who  died  in  1772.  This  strange  mystic,  who  dis- 
covered an  inner  meaning  in  the  Scriptures,  be- 
lieved that  in  visions  he  had  visited  both  heaven 
and  hell;  he  was  also  a  practical  mineralogist  of 
great  scientific  attainments. 

We  now  come  to  Wapping,  that  nautical  hamlet  of 
Stepney,  a  long  street  extending  from  Lower  East 
Smitlifield  to  New  Crane.  It  was  begun  in  157 1, 
to  secure  the  manor  from  the  encroachments  of  the 
river,  which  had  turned  this  part  of  the  north  bank 
of  the  Thames  into  a  great  wash  or  swamp  ;  the 
Commissioners  of  Sewers  rightly  imagining  that 
when  building  once  began,  the  tenants  would  not 
fail  to  keep  out  the  river,  for  the  sake  of  their  own 
lives  and  properties.  Stow  calls  it  Wapping-in- 
the-Wose,  or  Wash ;  and  Strype  describes  it  as  a 
place  "chiefly  inhabited  by  seafaring  men,  and 
tradesmen  dealing  in  commodities  for  the  supply 
of  shipping  and  shipmen." 

It  must  have  been  a  dirty,  dangerous  place  in 
Stow's  time,  when  it  was  chiefly  remarkable  as  being 
the  place  of  execution  for  pirates.  Stow  says 
of  it — "  The  usual  place  for  hanging  of  pirates  and 
sea-rovers,  at  the  low-water  mark,  and  there  to 
remain  till  three  tides  had  overflowed  them;  was 
never  a  house  standing  within  these  forty  years, 
but  since  the  gallows  being  after  removed  farther 
off,  a  continual  street,  or  filthy  strait  passage,  with 
alleys  of  small  tenements  or  cottages  built,  in- 
habited by  sailor's  victuallers,  along  by  the  river 
of  Thames,  almost  to  Radcliffe,  a  good  mile  from 
the  Tower." 

Pirates  were  hung  at  East  Wapping  as  early  as 
the  reign  of  Henry  VI.,  for  in  a  "Chronicle  of 
,  London,"  edited  by  Sir  Harris  Nicolas,  we  read 
that  in  this  reign  two  bargemen  were  hung  beyond 
St.  Katherine's,  for  murdering  three  Flemings  and 
a  child  in  a  Flemish  vessel;  "and  there  they 
hengen  till  the  water  had  washed  them  by  ebbying 
and  flowyd,  so  the  water  bett  upon  them."  And 
as  late  as  1735  we  read  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  "Williams  the  pirate  was  hanged  at 
Execution  Dock,  and  afterwards  in  chains  at 
Bugsby's  Hole,  near  Blackwall."    Howell,  in  his 


"  Londinopolis,"  1657,  says,  "  From  the  Liberties 
of  St.  Katherine  to  Wapping,  'tis  yet  in  the  memory 
of  man,  there  never  was  a  house  standing  but 
the  gallowes,  which  was  further  removed  in  regard 
of  the  buildings.  But  now  there  is  a  continued 
street,  towards  a  mile  long,  from  the  Tower  all 
along  the  river,  almost  as  far  as  Radcliffe, 
which  proceedeth  from  the  increase  of  navigation, 
mariners,  and  trafique."  In  one  of  those  wild 
romantic  plays  of  the  end  of  the  Shakespearean 
era.  Fortune  by  Land  and  Sea,  a  tragi-comedy  by 
Thomas  Heywood  and  William  Rowley,  the  writer 
fixes  one  scene  near  Execution  Dock,  where  two 
pirates,  called  Purser  and  Clinton,  are  brought  to 
die.  One  of  these  men  delivers  himself  of  a  grand 
rhapsody —    . 

"  How  many  captains  that  have  aw'd  the  seas 
Shall  fall  on  this  unfortunate  piece  of  land  ! 
Some  that  commanded  islands  ;  some  to  whom 
The  Indian  mines  paid  tribute,  the  Turk  vailed. 
*  *  #      '     *  * 

"  But  now  our  sun  is  setting ;  night  comes  on  ; 
The  watery  wilderness  o'er  which  we  reigned 
Proves  in  our  ruins  peaceful.     Merchants  trade; 
Fearless  abroad  as  in  the  rivers',  mouth, 
And  free  as  in  a  harbour.     Then,  fair  Thames, 
Queen  of  fresh  vifater,  famous  through  the  world, 
And  not  the  least  through  us,  whose  double  tides 
Must  overflow  our  bodies  ;  and,  being  dead. 
May  thy  clear  waves  our  scandals  wash  away, 
But  keep  our  valours  living. " 

The  audience,  no  doubt,  sympathised  with  these 
gallant  filibusters,  whose  forays  and  piracies  against 
Spain  would  be  thought  by  many  present  very 
venial  offences. 

In  1816  Townsend,  the  celebrated  Bow  Street 
runner,  was  examined  before  a  Committee  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  on  the  decrease  of  highway- 
men, and  other  questions  connected  with  the  police 
of  the  metropolis.  He  was  particularly  questioned 
as  to  the  advantage  of  hanging  men  in  chains. 
The  sturdy  old  officer,  with  the  memorable  white 
hat,  was  strongly  for  the  custom.  "Yes,"  he  said, 
"I  was  always  of  that  opinion,  and  I  recommended 
Sir  William  Scott  to  hang  the  two  men  that  are 
hanging  down  the  river.  I  will  state  my  reason. 
We  will  take  for  granted  that  those  men  were 
hanged,  as  this  morning,  for  the  murder  of  those 
revenue  officers.  They  are  by  law  dissected.  The 
sentence  is  that  afterwards  the  body  is  to  go  to 
the  surgeons  for  dissection.  There  is  an  end  of 
it — it  dies.  But  look  at  this.  There  are  a  couple 
of  men  now  hanging  near  the  Thames,  where  all 
the  sailors  must  come  up;  and  one  says  to  the 
other,  '  Pray,  what  are  those  two  poor  fellows  there 
for?'  'Why,'  says  another,  'I  will  go  and  ask.' 
They  ask.     'Why,  these  two  men  are  hung  and 


136 


OLD   AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tWapping, 


gibbeted    for    murdering   His    Majesty's   revenue 
officers.'     And  so  the  thing  is  kept  alive." 

In  one  of  Hogarth's  series  of  the  Idle  and  In- 
dustrious Apprentices,  the  artist  has  introduced  a 
man  hanging  in  chains  further  down  the  river ;  and 
a  friend  of  the  author's  remembers  seeing  a  pirate 
hung  in  chains  on  the  Thames  bank,  and  a  crow 
on  his  shoulder,  pecking  his  flesh  through  the  iron 
netting  that  enclosed  the  body. 

Wapping,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  in  1688 
the  scene  of  the  capture  of  the  cruel  minister  of 
James  II.,  Lord  Chancellor  Jeffreys,  who,  trying 
to  make  his  escape  in  the  disguise  of  a  common 
seaman,  was  captured  in  a  mean  ale-house,  called 
the  "  Red  Cow,"  in  Anchor-and-Hope  Alley,  near 
King  Edward's  Stairs,  in  Wapping.  He  was  re- 
cognised by  a  poor  scrivener,  whom  he  had  once 
terrified  when  in  his  clutches,  as  he  was  lolling  out 
of  window,  confident  in  his  security.  The  story 
of  his  capture  is  related  with  much  vividness  and 
unction  by  Macaulay : — 

"  A  scrivener,"  says  the  historian,  "who  lived  at 
Wapping,  and  whose  trade  was  to  furnish  the  sea- 
faring men  there  with  money  at  high  interest,  had 
some  time  before  lent  a  sum  on  bottomry.  The 
debtor  applied  to  equity  for  relief  against  his  own 
bond,  and  the  case  came  before  Jeffreys.  The 
counsel  for  the  borrower,  having  little  else  to  say, 
said  that  the  lender  was  a  trimmer.  The  chancellor 
instantly  fired.  '  A  trimmer  !  Where  is  he  ?  Let 
me  see  him.  I  have  heard  of  tjiat  kind  of  monster. 
What  is  it  made  like  ? '  The  unfortunate  creditor 
was  forced  to  stand  forth.  The  chancellor  glared 
fiercely  on  him,  stormed  at  him,  and  sent  him  away 
half  dead  with  fright.  '  While  I  live,'  the  poor  man 
said,  as  he  tottered  out  of  the  court,  '  I  shall  never 
forget  that  terrible  countenance.'  And  now  the  day 
of  retribution  had  arrived.  The  trimmer  was  walk- 
ing through  Wapping,  when  he  saw  a  well-known 
face  looking  out  of  the  window  of  an  ale-house. 
He  could  not  be  deceived.  The  eyebrows,  indeed, 
had  been  shaved  away.  The  dress  was  that  of  a 
common  sailor  from  Newcastle,  and  was  black  with 
coal-dust ;  but  there  was  no  mistaking  the  savage 
eye  and  mouth  of  Jeffreys.  The  alarm  was  given. 
In  a  moment  the  house  was  surrounded  by  hun- 
dreds of  people,  shaking  bludgeons  and  bellowing 
curses.  The  fugitive's  life  was  saved  by  a  com- 
pany of  the  Trainbands ;  and  he  was  carried  before 
the  Lord  Mayor.  The  mayor  was  a  simple  man, 
who  had  passed  his  whole  life  in  obscurity,  and  was 
bewildered  by  finding  himself  an  important  actor 
in  a  mighty  revolution.  The  events  of  the  last 
twenty-four' hours,  and  the  perilous  state  of  the  city 
yfkicli  was  vmder  his  charge,  had  disordered  his 


mind  and  his   body.     When  the  great  man,  at 
whose  frown,  a  few  days  before,  the  whole  kingdom 
had  trembled,  was  dragged  into  the  justice-room 
begrimed  with  ashes,  half  dead  with  fright,  and 
followed  by  a  raging  multitude,  the  agitation  of  the 
unfortunate  mayor  rose  to  the  height.     He  fell  into 
fits,  and  was  carried  to  his  bed,  whence  he  never 
rose.      Meanwhile,  the   throng  without   was  con- 
stantly becoming  more  numerous  and  more  savage, 
Jeffreys  begged  to  be  sent  to  prison.     An  order  to 
that  effect  was  procured  from  the  Lords  who  were 
sitting  at  Whitehall;  and  he  was   conveyed  in  a 
carriage  to  the  Tower.     Two  regiments  of  militia 
were  drawn  out  to  escort  him,  and  found  the  duty 
a  difficult  one.     It  was  repeatedly  necessary  for 
them  to  form,  as  if  for  the  purpose,  of  repelling  a 
charge  of  cavalry,  and  to  present  a  forest  of  pikes 
to   the  mob.      The    thousands,  who   were   disap- 
pointed of  their  revenge  pursued  the  coach  with 
howls  of  rage  to  the  gate  of  the  Tower,  brandishing 
cudgels,  and  holding  up  halters  full  in  the  prisoner's 
view.     The  wretched  man  meantime  was  in  con- 
vulsions of  terror.     He  wrung  his  hands,  he  looked 
wildly  out,  sometimes  at  one  window,  sometimes 
at  the  other,  and  was  heard,  even  above  the  tumult, 
crying,  '  Keep  them  off",  gentlemen !     For  God's 
sake,  keep  them  off" ! '     At  length,  having  suff"ered  • 
far  more  than  the  bitterness  of  death,  he  was  safely 
lodged  in  the  fortress,  where  some  of  his  most  illus- 
trious victims  had  passed  their  last  days,  and  where 
his  own  life  was  destined  to  close  in  unspeakable 
ignominy  and  terror." 

Strype  records  the  fact  that  on  July  24,  1629, 
King  Charies  I.,  having  hunted  a  stag  all  the. 
way  from  Wanstead,  in  Essex,  ran  him  down  at 
last,  and  killed  him  in  Nightingale  Lane,  "in  the 
hamlet  of  Wapping,  in  a  garden  belonging  to  a 
man  who  had  some  damage  among  his  herbs,  by 
reason  of  the  multitude  of  people  there  assembled 
suddenly." 

Dr.  Johnson,  in  one  conversation  with  that  ex- 
cellent listener,  Boswell,  talked  much  of  the  won- 
derful extent  and  variety  of  London,  and  observed 
that  men  of  curious  inquiry  might  see  in  it  such 
modes  of  Hfe  as  only  few  could  imagine.  "  He  in 
particular,"  says  Boswell,  "recommended  us  to 
'  explore '  Wapping,  which  we  resolved  to  do.  We 
accordingly  carried  our  scheme  into  execution  in 
October,  1792;  but,  whether  from  that  uniformity 
which  has  in  modern  times  to  a  great  degree  spread 
through  every  part  of  the  metropolis,  or  from  our 
want  of  sufficient  exertion,  we  were  disappointed." 
Joseph  Ames,  that  well-known  antiquary  and  lover 
of  old  books,  who  wrote  "  Typographical  Antiqui- 
ties; or,  the  History  of  Printing  in  England,"  was  a 


Stepney.  ] 


wapping  old  stairs. 


13? 


ship-chandler  in  a  humble  alley  of  Wapping,  where 
he  died,  in  1758.  This  worthy  old  student  is  de- 
scribed as  a  person  of  vast  application  and  industry 
in  collecting  old  printed  books  and  prints,  and 
other  curiosities,  both  natural  and  artificial.  His 
curious  notices  of  Caxton's  works,  and  of  very  rare 
early  books,  were  edited  and  enlarged,  first  by 
Herbert,  and  lastly  by  that  enthusiastic  biblio- 
maniac, T.  F.  Dibdin.  Another  celebrated  native 
of  Wapping  was  John  Day,  a  block  and  pump 
maker,  who  originated  that  popular  festivity,  Fairlop 
Fair,  in  Hainault  Forest. 

Amongst  the  ship  and  boat  builders  of  Wapping, 
the  rope 'makers,  biscuit  bakers,  mast,  oar,  and 
block  makers,  many  years  ago,  a  prying  nursery- 
man observed  in  a  small  window  a  gretty  West 
Indian  flower,  which  he  purchased.  It  proved 
to  be  a  fuchsia,  which  was  then  unknown  in  Eng- 
land. The  flower  became  popular,  and  300  cut- 
,  tings  from  it  were  the  next  year  sold  at  one  guinea 
each. 

Among  the  thirty-six  taverns  and  public-houses 
in  Wapping  High  Street  and-  Wapping  Wall,  says 
Mr.  Timbs,  are  the  signs  of  the  "  Ship  and  Pilot," 
"Ship  and  Star,"  "Ship  and  Punchbowl,"  "Union 
Flag  and  Punchbowl,"  the  "Gun,"  "North  American 
Sailor,"  "Golden  Anchor,"  "Anchor  and  Hope,"  the 
"Ship,"  "Town  of  Ramsgate,"  "Queen's  Landing," 
"  Ship  and  Whale,"  the  "  Three  Mariners,"  and  the 
"  Prospect  of  Whitby." 

Between  288  and  304,  Wapping,  are  Wapping  Old 
Stairs,  immortalised  by  Dibdin's  fine  old  song — 


"  '  Your  Molly  has  never  been  false,'  she  declares, 
'  Since  last  time  we  parted  at  Wapping  Old  Stairs.' " 

Going  still  further  east  we  come  to  Shadwell, 
which,  like  Wapping,  was  a  hamlet  of  Stepney,  till 
1669,  when  it  was  separated  by  Act  of  Parliament. 
It  derives  its  name,  it  is  supposed  by  Lysons,  from 
a  spring  dedicated  to  St.  Chad.  Its  extent  is  very 
small,  being  only  910  yards  long,  and  760  broad. 
In  Lysons'  time,  the  only  land  in  the  parish  not 
built  on  was  the  Sun  Tavern  Fields,  in  which  were 
rope-walks,  where  cables  were  made,  from  six  to 
twenty-three  inches  in  girth ;  the  rest  of  the  parish 
was  occupied  by  ships'  chandlers,  biscuit  bakers, 
ship-builders,  mast-makers,  sail-makers,  and  anchor- 
smiths.  The  church  of  St.  Paul  was  built  in  the 
year  1656,  but  it  was  not  consecrated  till  167 1. 
It  was  rebuilt  in  1821  on  the  old  site.  There 
were  waterworks  established  in  Shadwell  by 
Thomas  Neale,  Esq.,  in  1669. 

About  1745  a  mineral  spring,  which  was  called 
Shadwell  Spa,  was  discovered  by  Walter  Berry, 
Esq.,  when  sinking  a  well  in  Sun  Tavern  Fields. 
It  was  said  to  be  impregnated  with  sulphur,  vitriol, 
steel,  and  antimony.  A  pamphlet  was  written  by 
Dr.  Linden,  in  1749,  to  prove  jt  could  cure  every 
disease.  The  water  was  found  useful  in  cutaneous 
diseases.  It  was  then  employed  for  extracting  salts, 
and  for  preparing  a  liquor  with  which  the  calico- 
printers  fix  tl^ejr  colours.  The  waters  of  another 
mineral  spring  in  Shadwell  resemble  those  of  the 
postern  spring  on  Tower  Hill.  Cook's  almshouses 
at  Shadwell  are  mentioned  by  the  local  historians. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

STEPNEV. 

Derivation  of  the  Name— Noble  Families  in  Stepney— An  Attack  of  the  Plague— The  Parish  Church— Monuments— " the  Cruel  Knight" 
—Sir  John  Leake— Celebrated  Incumbents— Colet— Pace— Roger  Crab,  "The  English  Hermit " —Dissenting  Congregation  at  Stepucy- 
Greenhill- Mead— Shadwell — Stepney  "  Parishioners." 


At  Stepney,  two  and  a  half  miles  east  of  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral,  we  reach  the  eastern  boundary  of  the 
radius  we  have  defined  for  our  work.  This  parish 
was  anciently  called  Stibenhede,  Stebenhythe,  or 
Stebunhethe.  In  1299,  probably  because  it  was 
an  (Jut-of-the-way  nook,  between  marshes  and  the 
river,  it  was  the  seat  of  a  parliament  summoned  by 
Edward  I.  to  meet  at  the  mansion  house  of  Henry 
Walleis,  then  Mayor  of  London.  At  an  early  date 
the  manor  was  held  by  the  Bishops,  of  London, 
who  had  a  palace,  called  Bishop's  Hall,  now  in  the 
parish  of  Bethnal  Green.  In  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury John  de  Pulteney,  who  was  four  times  Mayor 
of  London,  owned  property  in  this  parish.     From 


the  reign  of  Edward  I.  various  injunctions  were 
made  at  Stepney  to  prevent  the  frequent  floods 
from  the  Thames,  to  inquire  into  the  state  of  the 
banks  and  ditches,  and  to  prevent  all  negligent 
tenants  and  delinquents. 

Alienated  by  Bishop  Ridley,  the  manor  of  Step- 
ney was  given  by  Edward  VI.  to  the  Wentworths. 
From  Lord  Wentworth  it  descended  to  Thomas, 
Earl  of  Cleveland,  whose  estates  were  confiscated 
in  1652,  when  Sir  William  Ellis,  Cromwell's  solicitor, 
was  made  steward  of  the  manor,  a  place  then 
valued  at  ;^2oo  per  annum.  After  the  Restoration 
the  Earl  of  Cleveland  recovered  his  manor,  which 
continued  in  his  family  till  the  year  1720,  when 


13§ 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tStepney. 


it  was  sold  by  the  representatives  of  Philadelphia, 
Lady  Wentworth,  to  John  Wicker,  Esq.,  whose 
son  alienated  it  to  his  brother-in-law  Sir  George 
Colebrooke  in  the  year  1754.  In  1664,  Chaarles  II., 
at  the  Earl  of  Cleveland's  request,  instituted  a 
weekly  court  of  record  at  Stepney,  and  a  weekly 
market  at  Ratcliffe  Cross  (afterwards  transferred 
to  Whitechapel),  and  an  annual  Michaelmas  fair  at 
Mile  End  Green  (afterwards  transferred  to  Bow).  In 
the  first  year  of  Charles  I.,  Stepney  was  ravaged  by 


of  the  Marquis  of  Worcester's   house,   where  the 
famous  Dr.  Meade  was  born  in  1673. 

The  parish  church,  dedicated  to  St  Dunstan 
and  All  Saints,  was  built  in  the  fourteenth  century. 
It  has  a  low  broad  tower,  strengthened  with  but- 
tresses, and  surmounted  by  a  turret  and  dome- 
In  it  was  buried  the  illustrious  Sir  Thomas  Spert, 
Comptroller  of  the  Navy  in  the  time  of  Henry 
VIII. ,  commander  of  the  Harry  Gr&ce  de  Dieu, 
and  the  founder  of  the  Trinity  House.     Here  also 


OLE  GATEWAY  AT  STEPNEY.     (From  a  View  published  by  N.  Smith,  1 791.) 


the  plague,  which  had  broken  out  from  time  to  time 
in  London  since  Elizabeth's  reign.  This  terrible 
disease  carried  off  here  2,978  persons.  At  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Civil  War,  Stepney,  then  a  mere 
flat,  extending  to  Blackwall,  was  strongly  fortified 
for  the  defence  of  the  City.  In  1665  the  plague 
again  broke  out  in  Stepney,  and  with  such  terrible 
inveteracy  that  it  swept  off  6,583  persons  in  one 
year,  besides  116  sextons  and  gravediggers.  In 
1794  afire  consumed  more  than  half  the  hamlet  of 
Ratcliffe,  and  spread  to  the  shipping  in  the  river. 
Stepney  had  a  traditional  reputation  for  healthiness 
till  the  cholera  of  1849  ^i^d  1866,  when  many  cases 
occurred  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  Stratford 
College,  founded  in  1826,  was  built  on  the   site 


a  Avriter  to  the  Spectator  discovered  that  remark- 
ably absurd  epitaph — 

"Here  Thomas  Saffin  lies  interred — ah,  why? 
Boin  in  New  England  did  in  London  die. 
Was  the  third  son  of  eight,  begot  upon 
His  mother  Martha  by  his  father  John. 
Much  favoured  by  his  prince  he  'gan  to  be, 
But  nipt  by  death  at  th'  age  of  t\*enty-three. 
Fatal  to  him  was  that  we  small-pox  name, 
By  which  his  mother  and  two  brethren  came 
Also  to  breathe  their  last,  nine  years  before, 
And  now  have  left  their  father  to  deplore 
The  loss  of  all  his  children,  with  his  wife, 
Who  was  the  joy  and  comfort  of  his  life. 
Deceased,  June  18,  1^87." 
"  On  the  outside  of  Stepney  Church,"  says  Lysons, 
"  over  the  south  porch,  is  a  representation  of  the 


Stepney.] 


HISTORICAL  ASSOCIATIONS  OF  STEPNEY. 


140 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


rStepnc\'. 


Crucifixion,  rudely  carved ;  and  on  the  west  wall, 
an  imperfect  basso  relievo  (not  better  executed)  of 
a  figure  adoring  the  Virgin  Mary  and  the  infant 
Jesus.  Within  the  west  porch  is,  a  stone,  on  which 
are  these  Hnes : — 

"  '  Of  Carthage  wall  I  was  a  stone, 

O  mortals  read  with  pity  ! 

Time  consumes  all,  it  spare  th  none, 

Man,  mountain,  town,  nor  city. 

Therefore,  O  mortals  !  now  bethink 

You  whereunto  you  must. 

Since  now  such  stately  buildings 

Lie  buried  in  the  dust. 

Thomas  Hughes,  1663.' 

,  "  On  the  east  wall  of  the  chancel  (on  the  out- 
side)," says  the  same  author,  "  is  the  monument  of 
Dame  Rebecca  Berry,  wife  of  Thomas  Elton,  of 
Stratford  Bow,  and  relict  of  Sir  John  Berry,  1696. 
The  arms  on  this  monument  are — Paly  of  six,  on  a 
bend  three  mullets  (Elton)  impaling,  a  fish,  and  in 
the  dexter  chief  point  an  annulet  between  two 
bends  wavy.  This  coat  of  arms  has  given  rise  to 
a  tradition  that  Lady  Berry  was  the  heroine  of  a 
popular  ballad  called  '  The  Cruel  Knight ;  or,  For- 
tunate Farmer's  Daughter ; '  the  story  of  which  is 
briefly  this  :^A  knight,  passing  by  a  cottage,  hears 
the  cries  of  a  woman  in  labour ;  his  knowledge  in 
the  occult  sciences  informs  him  that  the  child  then 
born  was  destined  to  be  his  wife.  He  endeavours 
to  elude  the  decrees  of  fate,  and  avoid  so  ignoble 
an  alliance,  by  various  attempts  to  destroy  the  child, 
which  are  defeated.  At  length,  when  grown  to 
woman's  state,  he  takes  her  to  the  sea-side,  intend- 
ing to  drown  her,  but  relents ;  at  the  same  time 
throwing  a  ring  into  the  sea,  he  commands  her 
never  to  see  his  face  again,  on  pain  of  instant 
deElth,  unless  she  can  pro'duce  that  ring.  She 
afterwards  becomes  a  cook,  and  finds  the  ring  in 
a  cod-fish,  as  she  is  dressing  it  for  dinner.  The 
marriage  takes  place,  of  course.  The  ballad,  it 
must  be  observed,  lays  the  scene  of  this  story  in 
Yorkshire.  The  incident  of  the  fish  and  ring 
occurs  in  other  stories,  and  may  be  found  in  the 
•  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments.'" 

Amongst  the  epitaphs  in  Stepney  Church  is  that 
to  Sir  John  Leake,  1720  : — 

"To  the  memory  of  the  Honourable  Sir  John  Leake,  Knt., 
Rear- Admiral  of  Great  Britain,  Admiral  and  Commander-in- 
Chief  of  Her  late  Majesty  Queen  Anne's  fleet,  and  one  of  the 
Lords  Commissioners  of  the  Admiralty.  Departed  this  life 
the  21st  of  August,  1720,  Jetat  64  years,  i  month,  17  days  ; 
who,  anno  1689,  in  the  Dartmouth,  by  engaging  Kilmore 
Castle,  relieved  the  city  of  Londonderry,  in  Ireland  ;  also, 
anno  1 702,  with  a  squadron  at  Newfoundland,  he  took  and 
destroyed  fifty-one  sail  of  French,  together  wSh  all  their 
settlements.  Anno  1704  he  forced  the  van  of  the  French 
fleet  at  the  Malaga  engagement ;  relieved  Gibraltar  twice. 


burning  and  taking  thirteen  sail  of  French  men-of-war.  Like- 
viise,  anno  1706,  relieved  Barcelona,  the  present  Emperor  of 
Germany  besieged  therein  by  Philip  of  Spain,  and  took 
ninety  sail  of  corn-ships  ;  the  same  year  taking  the  cities  of 
Carthagena  and  Alicant,  with  the  islands  of  Ivica,  Majorca, 
Sardinia,  and  Minorca." 

This  celebrated  officer  was  son  of  Captain 
Richard  Leake,  Master  Gunner  of  England ;  he 
was  born  at  Rotherhithc,  in  the  year  1656.  Whilst 
a  captain  he  distinguished  himself  in  several  en- 
gagements. In  Queen  Anne's  reign  he  was  five 
times  Admiral  of  the  Fleet,  and  commanded  with 
such  undeviating  success,  that  he  acquired  the 
appellation  of  "  the  brave  and  fortunate."  On  the 
accession  of-  George  I.  he  was  dismissed  from  all 
employ,  and  retired  into  private  life.  The  veteran 
died  in  1720,  and  was  buried  in  a  family  vault  in 
Stepney  Church.  His  son.  Captain  Richard  Leake, 
who  died  a  few  months  before  him,  seems  to  have 
been  a  worthless  profligate,  who  married  disgrace- 
fully, ran.  through  his  money,  and  then  lived  on  his 
father.  His  nativity  had,  it  is  said,  been  cast  by 
his  grandfather,  who  pronounced  that  he  would  be 
very  vicious,  very  fortunate,  so  far  as  prize-money 
was  concerned,  an  d  very  unhappy. 

The  living  of  Stepney  was  held  by  Archbishop 
Segrave  and  Bishop  Fox  (the  founder  of  Corpus 
Christi  College,  Oxford).  Of  the  Stepney  district 
churches  St.  Philip's  is  said  to  have  been  the  first 
district  Gothic  church  built  in  the  east  of  London. 
It  was  erected  in  1829,  at  a  cost  of  ;^7,ooo.  There 
is  also  a  synagogue  and  Jews'  burial-ground  at 
Stepney,  and  numerous  almshouses  and  hospitals, 
such  as  Deacon's  City  Paupers'  House,  the  German 
and  Portuguese  Jews'  Hospitals,  Drapers'  Hospital, 
Trinity  Almshouses,  Gibson's,  or  Cooper's  Alms- 
houses. 

In  1372  the  rectory  of  Stepney  was  valued  at 
sixty  marks  a  year,  and  the  vicarage  at  twelve. 
In  the  Parliamentary  survey,  taken  in  1650,  the 
vicarage  is  set  down  at  the  value  of  £ia  per 
annum.  The  ancient  rectory  stood  near  the  east 
end  of  the  church ;  and  in  Lysons'  time  the  brick 
wall  which  enclosed  the  site  still  remained. 

Colel,  the  founder  of  St.  Paul's  School,  and  the 
sworn  friend  of  Erasmus,  was  vicar  here,  and  still 
resided  in  Stepney  after  being  made  Dean  of  St, 
Paul's.  Sir  Thomas  More,  writing  to  him,  then 
abroad,  say^  "  If  the  discommodities  of  the  City 
offend  youj  yet  may  the  country  about  your  parish 
of  Stepney  afford  you  the  like  delights  to  those 
which  that  affords  you  wherein  you  now  keepe." 
The  dean's  house  was  at  the  north  end  of  White 
Horse  Street,  Ratclifife.  Upon  his  founding  St. 
Paul's  School  he  gave  it  to  the'  head-master  as  a 
country  residence  j  but  Stepney  having  in  a  great 


Stepney.] 


AN  ECCENTRIC. 


141 


measure  lost  its  rural  delights,  the  masters  have 
not  resided  there  for  many  years.  The  site  x(now 
two  messuages  called  Colet  Place)  was,  in  Lysons' 
time,  still  let  for  their  advantage.  In  the  front  was 
a  bust  of  the  dean. 

Richard  Pace,  who  was  presented  to  the  vicarage 
in  1519,  had  been  in  the  service  of  Cardinal  Bain- 
bridge,  who  having  recommended  him  at  Court, 
the  king  had  made  him  Secretary  of  State,  and 
employed  him  in  matters  of  the  highest  importance. 
He  was  afterwards  made  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  but 
kept  the  vicarage  till  1527^  when  he  was  sent  as 
ambassador  to  Venice.  Whilst  there  he  either 
thwarted  some  plan  of  Wolsey's,  or  did  not  lend 
himself  enough  to  the  ambitious  schemes  of  that 
proud  cardinal,  for  he  fell  into  disgrace,  and  at  his 
return  was  thrown  into  the  Tower  for  two  years. 
These  misfortunes  affected  his  brain,  and  he  suf- 
fered from  mental  disease,  from  which  he  never 
wholly  recovered.  After  his  release  he  retired  to 
Stepney,  where  he  died  in  1532,  and  was  buried  in 
the  church,  near  the  great  altar.  Erasmus,  who 
was  a  friend  of  Pace's,  speaks  highly  of  his  amiable 
character,  his  pleasant  manner,  and  his  integrity. 
He  wrote  a  book  on  the  unlawfulness  of  King 
Henry's  marriage  with  the  widow  of  his  brother 
Arthur,  a  Preface  to  Ecclesiastes,  and  some  Latin 
epistles  and  sermons.  William  Jerome,  presented 
to  the  vicarage  of  Stepney  in  1537,  was  executed 
in  1540  on  a  charge  of  heresy. 

Roger  Crab,  gent.,  one  of  the  old  celebrities  of 
Bethnal  Green,  and  who  was  buried  at  Stepney,  Sep- 
tember 14,  1680,  was  one  of  the  eccentric  characters 
of  the  .seventeenth  century.  The  most  we  know 
of  him  is  from  a  pamphlet,  now  very  rare,  written 
principally  by  himself,  and  entitled,  "  The  English 
Hermit ;  or,  the  Wonder  of  the  Age."  It  appears 
from  this  publication  that  he  had  served  seven 
years  in  the  Parliamentary  army,  and  had  his  skull 
cloven  to  the  brain  in  their  service ;  for  which  he 
was  so  ill  requited  that  he  was  once  sentenced 
to  death  by  the  Lord  Protector,  and  afterwards 
suffered  two  years'  imprisonment.  When  he  had 
obtained  his  release  he  set  up  a  shop  at  Chesham 
as  a  haberdasher  of  hats.  '  He  had  not  been 
long  settled  there  before  he  began  to  imbibe  a 
strange  notion,  that  it  was  a  sin  against  his  body 
and  soul  to  eat  any  sort  of  flesh,  fish,  or  living 
creature,  or  to  drink  wine,  ale,  of  beer.  Thinking 
himself  at  the  same  time  obliged  to  follow  literally 
the  injunction  to  the  young  man  in  the  Gospel, 
he  quitted  business,  and  disposing  of  his  property, 
gave  it  to  the  poor,  reserving  to  himself  only  a 
small  cottage  at  Ickenham,  where  he  resided,  and 
3.  rood  of  land  for  a  garden,  on  the  produce  of 


which  he  subsisted  at  the  expense  of  three  farthings 
a  week,  his  food  being  bran,  herbs,  roots,  dock- 
leaves,  mallows,  and  grass ;  his  drink,  water.  How 
such  an  extraordinary  change  of  diet  agreed  with  his 
constitution  the  following  passage  from  his  pamphlet 
will  show,  and  give,  at  the  same  time,  a  specimen  of 
the  work  : — ■"  Instead  of  strong  drinks  and  wines,  I 
give  the  old  man  a  cup  of  water ;  and  instead  of  rost 
mutton  and  rabbets,  and  other  dainty  dishes,  I  give 
him  broth  thickened  with  bran,  and  pudding  made 
with  bran  and  turnip-leaves  chopt  together,  and 
grass ;  at  which  the  old  man  (meaning  my  body), 
being  moved,  would  know  what  he  had  done,  that  I 
used  him  so  hardly ;  then  I  show'd  him  his  trans- 
gression :  so  the  warres  began ;  the  law  of  the  old 
man  in  my  fleshly  members  rebelled  agahist  the 
law  of  my  mind,  and  had  a  shrewd  skirmish ;  but 
the  mind,  being  well  enlightened,  held  it  so  that 
the  old  man  grew  sick  and  weak  with  the  flux,  like 
to  fall  to  the  dust ;  but  the  wonderful  love  of  God, 
well  pleased  with  the  battle,  raised  him  up  again, 
and  filled  him  full  of  love,  peace,  and  content  of 
mind,  and  he  is  now  become  more  humble  j  for  now 
he  will  eat  dock-leaves,  mallows,  or  grass."  The 
pamphlet  was  published  in  1655.  Prefixed  to  it  is 
a  portrait  of  the  author,  cut  in  wood,  which,  from 
its  rarity,  bears  a  very  high  price.  Over  the  print 
are  thes  e  lines — 

"  Roger  Crab  that  feeds  on  herbs  and  roots  is  here  ; 
Bliit  believe  Diogenes  had  better  cheer. 
J?ara  avis  in  terris," 

A  passage  in  this  man's  epitaph  seems  to  intimate 
that  he  never  resumed  the  use  of  animal  food.  It 
is  not  one  of  the  least  extraordinary  parts  of  his 
history  that  he  should  so  long  have  subsisted  on  a 
diet  which,  by  his  own  account,  had  reduced  him 
almost  to  a  skeleton  in  1655.  It  appears  that  he 
resided  at  Bethnal  Green  at  the  time  of  his  decease. 
A  very  handsome  tomb  was  erected  to  his  memory 
in  the  churchyard  at  this  place,  which  being  de- 
cayed, the  ledger-stone  was  placed  in  the  pathway 
leading  across  the  churchyard  to  White  Horse 
Street.  Strype  says  of  the  man,  "  This  Crab,  they 
say,  was  a  Philadelphian,  a  sweet  singer." 

A  congregation  of  Protestant  Dissenters  was 
established  in  Stepney  in  the  year  1644  by  William 
Greenhill,  who  was  afterwards  vicar  of  Stepney. 
He  was  ejected  soon  after  the  Restoration,  and 
was  succeeded  by  Matthew  Mead.  This  eminent 
Puritan  divine  was  appointed  to  the  cure  of  the 
new  chapel  at  Shadwell  by  Cromwell,  but  in  1662, 
being  ejected  for  nonconformity,  succeeded  Green- 
hill  as  pastor  of  the  Dissenting  congregation  at 
Stepney.  In  1683,  being  accused  of  being  privy 
to  the  Rye  House  Plot,  he  fled  to  Holland  till  the  . 


142 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


rWhitechapel. 


danger  was  over.  He  was  author  of  the  "  Young 
Man's  Remembrancer,''  "  The  Almost  Christian 
Tried  and  Cast,"  "  The  Good  of  Early  Obedience," 
"A  Sermon  on  Ezekiel's  Wheels,"  and  several  other 
single  sermons.  His  son  Richard,  the  celebrated 
physician,  who  for  nearly  half  a  century  was  at  the 
head  of  his  profession,  author  of  several  valuable 
medical  treatises,  and  possessor  of  one  of  the 
most  valuable  collection  of  books,  MSS.,  antiques, 
paintings,  &c.,  that  ever  centered  in  a  private  in- 
dividual, was  born  at  Stepney,  in  the  apartments 
over  the  ancient  brick  gateway  opposite  the  rec- 
tory, August  nth,  1673.  He  first  began  practice 
in  1696,  at  his  native  place,  in  the  very  house 
where  he  was  born,  and  met  with  that  success 
which  was  a  prognostic  of  his  future  eminence.  Dr. 
Mead  died  in  the  year  1754,  and  was  buried  in  the 
Temple  Church.  The  meeting-house  was  erected 
in  1674  for  Mr.  Mead,  who,  in  the  ensuing  year, 
instituted  the  May-day  sermons,  for  the  benefit  of 
young  persons. 

Shadwell  was  separated  from  the  parish  of 
Stepney  in  the  year  1669  ;  St.  George's-in-the-East, 
in  the  year  1727;  Spitalfields,  in  1729;  Lime- 
house,  in  1730;  Stratford-Bow,  the  same  year  j 
and  Bethnal  Green,  in  1743. 

Sir  Thomas  I^ake,  who  was  afterwards  Secretary 
of  State  to  James  I.,  resided  at  Stepney  in  1595; 
Isabel,  Countess  of  Rutland,  had  a  seat  there  in 


1596;  Nathaniel  Bailey,  author  of  the  useful  and 
well-known  English  Dictionary,  "An  Account  of 
London," and  other  works,  lived  at  Stepney;  Capt. 
Griffiths,  an  ancient  Briton,  who,  by  the  gallant  and 
extraordinary  recovery  of  his  fishing-boat  from  a 
French  frigate,  attracted  the  notice  of  King  William 
IV.,  and  became  afterwards  captain  of  a  man-of-war, 
was  an  inhabitant  of  Stepney,  and  was  buried  there. 
He  was  known  by  the  name  of  "  Honour  and  Glory 
Griffiths,"- from  the  circumstance,  it  is  said,  of  his 
addressing  his  letters  to  "  their  Honours  and  Glories 
at  the  Admiralty."  There  was  also  at  Stepney,  in 
Lysons'  time,  an  old  gateway  of  a  large  mansion 
that  once  belonged  to  Henry,  the  first  Marquis  of 
Worcester.  An  engraving  of  this  very  interesting 
specimen  of  old  brickwork  will  be  fouild  on 
page  138. 

It  is  an  old  tradition  of  the  East  End  of  London 
that  all  children  born  at  sea  belong  to  Stepney 
parish.     The  old  rhyme  runs — 

"  He  who  sails  on  the  wide  sea 
Is  a  parishioner  of  Stepney. " 

This  rather  wide  claim  on  the  parochial  funds  has 
often  been  made  by  paupers  who  have  been  born 
at  sea,  and  who  used  to  be  gravely  sent  to  Stepney 
from  all  parts  of  the  country  ;  but  various  decisions 
of  the  superior  courts  have  at  different  times  de- 
cided against  the  traditional  law. 


CHAPTER     XVII. 
WHITECHAPEL. 

Strype's  Account — Mention  of  Whitechapel  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  and  Defoe -St.  Mary  Matfellon— Its' Great  Antiquity— Old  Religious 
Custom— "  Judas  the  Traytor"— Burials  at  Whitechapel— The  Executioner  of  Charles  I.— Rosemary  Lane— Petticoat  Lane  and  the  Old 
Clothes  Sales— A  Lucky  Find— Poverty  in  Whitechapel  —  The  London  Hospital— The  Danish  Church— The  Goodman's  Fields  Theatre. 


"Whitechapel,"  says  Strype,  "is  a  spacious  fair 
street,  for  entrance  into  the  City  eastward,  and 
somewhat  long,  reckoning  from  the  laystall  east 
unto  the  bars  west.  It  is  a  great  thoroughfare, 
being  the  Essex  road,  and  well  resorted  unto, 
which  occasions  it  to  be  the  better  inhabited, 
and  accommodated  with  good  inns  for  the  recep- 
tion of  travellers,  and  for  horses,  coaches,  carts, 
and  wagons." 

Whitechapel  is  mentioned  by  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,  in  their  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle. 
"  March  fair,  my  hearts  ! "  says  Ralph,  "  Lieu- 
tenant, beat  the  rear  up  !  Ancient,  let  your  colours 
fly ;  but  have  a  great  care  of  the  butchers'  hooks 
at  Wliitechapel ;  they  have  been  the  death  of  many 
a  fair  ancient "  (ensign). 

"  I  lived,"  says  Defoe,  in  his  "  Memoirs  of  the 


Plague,"  "  without  Aldgate,  about  midway  between 
Aldgate  Church  and  Whitechapel  Bars,  on  the  left- 
hand  or  north  side  of  the  street ;  and  as  the  dis- 
temper had  not  reached  to  that  side  of  the  City, 
our  neighbourhood  continued  very  easy;  but  at 
the  other  end  of  the  town  the  consternation  was 
very  great,  and  the  richer  sort  of  people,  espe- 
cially the  nobility  and  gentry  from  the  west 
part  of  the  City,  thronged  out  of  town  with  their 
families  and  servants  in  an  unusual  manner; 
and  this  was  more  particularly  seen  in'  White- 
chapel— that  is  to  say,  the  broad  street  where  I 
lived." 

Although  the  church  of  St.  Mary,  Whitechapel, 
was  at  first  only  a  chapel  of  ease  to  Stepney,  it  is  of 
great  antiquity,  since  there  is  record  of  Hugh  de 
Fulbourne  being  rector  there  in  the  year  1329.    As 


Whitechapel.] 


"JUDAS  THE  TRAYTOR." 


M3 


early  as  the  21st  of  Ricliard  II.,  according  to  Stow, 
the  parish  was  called  Villa  beatje  Mariae  de 
Matfellbn,  a  name  the  strangeness  of  which  has 
given  rise  to  many  Whitechapel  legends.  According 
to  Stow,  the  name  of  Matfellon  was  given  it  about 
the  year  1428  (6th  Henry  VI.),  from  the  following 
circumstance  : — A  devout  widow  of  the  parish  had 
long  time  cherished  and  brought  up  of  alms  a 
certain  Frenchman  or  Breton  born,  who  most 
"unkindly  and  cruelly,"  by  night,  murdered  the 
said  widow  as  she  slept  in  her  bed,  and  afterwards 
flew  with  such  jewels  and  other  stuff  of  hers  as  he 
might  carry ;  but  was  so  freshly  pursued,  that  for 
fear  he  took  sanctuary  in  the  church  of  St.  George, 
Southwark,  and  challenging  the  privileges  there, 
abjured  the  king's  land.  Then  the  constables  in 
charge  of  him  brought  him  into  London  to  convey 
him  eastward,  but  as  soon  as  he  was  come  into 
Whitechapel,  the  wives  there  cast  upon  him  so 
many  missiles  and  so  much  filth,  that  notwith- 
standing all  the  resistance  of  the  constables,  they 
slew  him  out  of  hand  ;  and  for  this  feat,  it  was  said, 
the  parish  purchased  the  name  of  St.  Mary  Matfellon. 

Now,  that  this  event  may  have  occurred  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  VI.  is  very  probable ;  but  as  the 
parish  was  called  Matfellon  more  than  a  hundred 
years  before,  it  is  very  certain  that  the  name  of 
Matfellon  did  not  arise  from  this  particular  felon. 
Strype  thinks  that  the  word  Matfellon  is  some- 
how or  other  derived  from  the  Hebrew  or  Syriac 
word  "  Matfel,"  which  signifies  a  woman  recently 
delivered  of  a  son — that  is,  to  the  Virgin,  recently 
delivered.  Perhaps  the  church  may  have  been 
dedicated  to  Mary  matri  et  filio,  which  in  time 
was  corrupted  into  Matfellon.  The  name  of  the 
White  Chapel  was  probably  given  the  new  chapel 
in  admiration  of  its  stateliness,  or  from  the  white- 
wash that  even  in  the  Middle  Ages  was  frequently 
used  by  builders. 

The  inhabitants  of  this  parish,  says  Strype,  were 
anciently  bound,  annually,  at  the  feast  of  Pentecost, 
to  go  in  a  solemn  procession  to  the  cathedral 
church  of  St.  Paul's,  in  the  City  of  London,  to 
make  their  oblations,  as  a  testimony  of  their 
obedience  to  the  Mother  Church;  but  upon  the 
erection  of  the  conventual  church  of  St.  Peter, 
Westminster,  into  a  cathedral,  and  the  county  of 
Middlesex  appropriated  by  Henry  VIII.  for  its 
diocese,  of  which  this  parish  being  a  part,  the  in- 
habitants were  obliged  to  repair  annually  to  St. 
Peter's,  as  they  formerly  did  to  St.  Paul's ;  which 
practice  proving  very  troublesome,  and  of  no 
service,  Thomas  Thirlby,  bishop  of  the  new  see, 
upon  their  petition,  agreed  to  ease  them  of  that 
trouble,  .provided,  the  rector  and  churchwardens 


would  yearly,  at  the  time  accustomed,  repair  to  his 
new  cathedral,  and  there,  in  the  time  of  Divine 
service,  offer  at  the  high  altar  the  sum  of  fifteen 
pence,  as  a  recognition  of  their  obedience. 

The  street,  or  way,  says  Strype,  leading  from 
Aldgate  to  Whitechapel  Church,  remaining  in  its 
original  unpaved  state,  it  became  thereby  so  very 
bad  that  the  s6,me  was  almost  rendered  impassable, 
not  only  for  carriages,  but  likewise  for  horses; 
wherefore  it,  together  with  divers  others  on  the 
west  side  Qf  the  City  of  London,  were  appointed 
to  be  paved  by  an  Act  of  Parliament,  in  the  year 
1572- 

In  the  year  171 1  the  advowson  of  Whitechapel 
was  purchased  by  the  principal  and  scholars  of 
King's  Hall  and  Cpllege,  of  Brasenose  College,  in 
Oxford. 

Pennant,  always  vivacious  and  amusing,  tells  a 
story  of  a  libellous  picture  of  the  Last  Supper 
placed  above  the  altar  in  this  church,  in  the  reign 
of  Queen  Anne,  by  the  then  High  Church  rector. 
Dr.  White  Kennet,  at  that  time  Dean  of  Peter- 
borough, had  given  great  offence  to  the  Jacobites, 
by  writing  in  defence  of  the  Hanoverian  succession, 
and  in  revenge  the  rector  introduced  the  dean 
among  the  Apostles  in  the  character  of  Judas.  He 
clad  him  in  a  black  robe,  between  cloak  and  gown, 
and  a  short  wig,  and,  to  brand  him  beyond  mistake, 
put  a.  black  velvet  patch  on  his  forehead,  such  as 
the  dean  wore  to  hide  a  dreadful  injury  received 
in  his  youth;  beneath  was  written,  "Judas,  the 
traytor."  The  dean  generously  treated  the  matter 
with .  contemptuous  silence ;  but  the  Bishop  of 
London  interfered,  and  caused  the  obnoxious 
picture  to  be  removed.  It  was  afterwards  replaced, 
but  the  libellous  likeness  was  expunged. 

The  register  of  St.  Mary  Matfellon,  Whitechapel, 
records  the  burial  of  two  remarkable  persons — 
Brandon,  the  supposed  executioner  of  Charles  I., 
and  Parker,  the  leader  of  the  Mutiny  at  the  Nore. 
Brandon  was  a  ragman,  in  Rosemary  Lane.  The 
entry  is — "1649.  June  2.  Richard  Brandon,  a  man 
out  of  Rosemary  Lane."  And  to  this  is  added 
the  following  memorandum  :  "  This  R.  Brandon  is 
supposed  to  have  cut  off  the  head  of  Charles  I." 
This  man  is  said  to  have  confessed  that  he  had 
£30  for  his  work,  and  that  it  was  paid  him  (why, 
we  know  not)  in  half-crowns,  within  an  hour  after 
the  axe  fell.  He  took  an  orange,  stuck  with  cloves, 
and  a  handkerchief,  out  of  the  king's  pocket,  when 
the  body  was  removed  from  the  scaffold.  For  the 
orange  he  was  offered  twenty  shillings  by  a  gentle- 
man in  Whitehall,  but  he  refused  the  sum,  and 
afterwards  sold  the  orange  for  ten  shillings,  in 
Rosemary  Lane?  A  This  Brandon  was  the  son  of 


144 


OLD   AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Whitechapel. 


Gregory  Brandon,  and  claimed  the  headman's  axe 
by  inheritance.  The  first  person  he  had  beheaded 
was  the  Earl  of  Strafford ;  but,  after  all,  there  is  still 
doubts  as  to  who  struck  the  death-blow  at  King 
Charles,  and  some  say  it  was  that  Cornet  Joyce 
who  once  arrested  the  king.  There  is  as  much, 
perhaps,  to  be  said  for  Brandon,  of  Rosemary 
Lane,  as  any  one. 

Rosemary  Lane,  now  re-christened  Royal  Mint 
Street,  is  described  by  Mr.  Mayhew  as  chiefly  in- 
habited by  dredgers,  ballast-heavers,  coal-whippers, 
watermen,  lumpers,  &c.,  as  well  as  the  slop-workers 
and  "  sweaters  "  employed  in  the  Minories. 

"  One  side  of  the  lane,"  says  Mayhew,  in  his 
"London  Labour,"  "is  covered  with  old  boots 
and  shoes ;  old  clothes,  both  men's,  women's,  and 
children's ;  new  lace,  for  edgings,  and  a  variety  of 
cheap  prints  and  muslins,  and  often  of  the  com- 
monest kinds  (also  new) ;  hats  and  bonnets ;  pots .; 
tins ;  old  knives  and  forks,  old  scissors,  and  old 
metal  articles  generally ;  here  and  there  is  a  stall 
of  cheap  bread  or  American  cheese,  or  what  is 
announced  as  American ;  old  glass ',  different  de- 
scriptions of  second-hand  furniture,  of  the  smaller 
size,  such  as  children's  chairs,  bellows,  &c.  Mixed 
with  these,  but  only  very  scantily,  are  a  few  bright- 
looking  swag-barrows,  with  china  ornaments,  toys, 
&c.  Some  of  the  wares  are  spread  on  the  ground, 
on  wrappers,  or  pieces  of  matting  or  carpet ;  and 
some,  as  the  pots,  are  occasionally  placed  on  straw. 
The  cotton  prints  are  often  heaped  on  the  ground, 
where  are  also  ranges  or  heaps  of  boots  and  shoes, 
and  piles  of  old  clothes,  or  hats  or  umbrellas. 
Other  trades  place  their  goods  on  stalls  or  barrows, 
or  over  an  old  chair  or  clothes-horse.  And  amidst 
all  this  motley  display  the  buyers  and  sellers  smoke, 
and  shout,  and  doze,  and  bargain,  and  wrangle,  and 
eat,  and  drink  tea  and  coffee,  and  sometimes  beer." 

Rag  Fair,  or  Rosemary  Lane,  Wellclose  Square, 
is  mentioned  in  a  note  to  Pope's  "  Dunciad,"  as 
"a  place  near  the  Tower  of  London,  where  old 
clothes  and  frippery  are  sold."  Pennant  gives  a 
humorous  picture  of  the  barter  going  on  there,  and 
says,  "  The  articles  of  commerce  by  no  means 
belie  the  name.  There  is  no  expressing  the  poverty 
of  the  goods,  nor  yet  their  cheapness.  A  dis- 
tinguished merchant  engaged  with  a  purchaser  ob- 
serving me  look  on  him  with  great  attention,  called 
out  to  me,  as  his  customer  was  going  off  with  his 
bargain,  to  observe  that  man,  'for,'  says  he,  'I 
have  actually  clothed  him  for  fourteen  pence.' "  It 
was  here,  we  believe,  that  purchasers  were  allowed 
to  dip  in  a  sack  for  old  wigs — a  penny  the  dip. 
Noblemen's  suits  come  here  at  last,  after  under- 
going many  vicissitudes. 


In  the  Public  Advertiser  of  Feb.  17,  1756,  there 
is  an  account  of  one  Mary  Jenkins,  a  dealer  in  old 
clothes  in  Rag  Fair,  selling  a  pair  of  breeches  to 
a  poor  woman  for  sevenpence  and  a  pint  of  beer. 
While  the  two  were  drinking  together  at  a  public- 
house,  the  lucky  purchaser  found,  on  unripping  the 
clothes,  eleven  guineas  of  gold  quilted  in  the  waist- 
band (eleven  Queen  Anne  guineas),  and  a  £^iq 
bank-note,  dated  1729,  of  which  n9te  the  pur- 
chaser did  not  learn  the  value  till  she  had  sold 
it  for  a  gallon  of  twopenny  purl. 

Petticoat  Lane,  according  to  Stow,  was  formerly 
called  Hog  Lane.  It  is  now  called  Middlesex 
Street.  The  old  historian  gives  a  pleasant  picture 
of  it  as  it  was  forty  years  before  he  wrote.  "  This 
Hog  Lane  stretcheth  north  towards  St.  Mary 
Spittle,"  he  says,  "without  Bishopsgate,  and  within 
these  forty  years  it  had  on  both  sides  fair  hedge- 
rows of  elm-trees,  with  bridges,  and  easy  stiles  to 
pass  over  into  the  pleasant  fields,  very  com- 
modious for  citizens  therein  to  walk  about,  and 
otherwise  to  recreate  and  refresh  their  dull  spirits 
in  the  sweet  and  wholesome  air  which  is  now 
within  a  few  years  made  a  continual  building 
throughout  of  garden-houses  and  small  cottages; 
and  the  fields  on  either  side  be  turned  into  garden- 
plots,  tenter-yards,  bowling-alleys,  and  such  like." 

Strype  says  that  some  gentlemen  of  the  Court 
and  City  built  their  houses  here  for  the  sake  of 
the  fresh  air.  At  the  west  of  the  lane,  the  same 
historian  mentions,  there  was  a  house  called,  in 
Strype's  boyhood,  the  Spanish  ambassador's,  who 
in  the  reign  of  James  I.  dwelt  there,  probably  the 
famous  Gondomar.  A  httle  way  from  this,  down 
a  paved  alley  on  the  east  side,  Strype's  father  lived, 
in  a  fair  large  house  with  a  good  garden  before  it, 
where  Hans  Jacobson,  King  James's  jeweller,  had 
dwelt.  After  that,  French  Protestant  silk-weavers 
settled  in  the  part  of  the  lane  towards  Spittlefields, 
and  it  soon  became  a  continuous  row  of  buildings 
on  both  sides  of  the  way. 

"Petticoat  Lane,"  says  Mr.  Mayhew,  "is  essen- 
tially the  old  clothes'  district.  Embracing  the 
streets  and  alleys  adjacent  to  Petticoat  Lane,  and 
including  the  rows  of  old  boots  and  shoes  on  the 
ground,  there  is,  perhaps,  between  two  and  three 
miles  of  old  clothes.  Petticoat  Lane  proper  is 
long  and  narrow,  and  to  look  down  it  is  to  look 
down  a  vista  of  many-coloured  garments,  alike  on 
the  sides  and  on  the  ground.  The  effect  some- 
times is  very  striking,  from  the  variety  of  hues, 
and  the  constant  flitting  or  gathering  of  the  crowd 
into  little  groups  of  bargainers.  Gowns  of  every 
shade  and  every  pattern  are  hanging  up,  but 
none,  perhaps,  look  either  bright  or  white ;  it  is  a' 


Whitechapel.1 


RAG  FAIR. 


145 


vista  of  dinginess,  but  many-coloured  dinginess, 
as  regards  female  attire.  Dress-coats,  frock-coats, 
great-coats,  livery  and  gamekeepers'  coats,  paletots, 
tunics,  trowsers,  knee-breeches,  waistcoats,  capes, 
pilot  coats,  working  jackets,  plaids,  hats,  dressing- 
gowns,  shirts,  Guernsey  frocks,  are  all  displayed. 
The  predominant  colours  are  black  and  blue,  but 
there  is  every  colour ;  the  light  drab  of  some  aristo- 
cratic livery,  the  dull  brown-greei)  of  velveteen,  the 
deep  blue  of  a  pilot-jacket,  the  variegated  figures 


and  shoes.  Handkerchiefs,  sometimes  of  a  gaudy 
orange  pattern,  are  heaped  on  a  chair.  Lace  and 
muslins  occupy  small  stands,  or  are  spread  on  the 
ground.  Black  and  drab  and  straw  hats  are  hung 
up,  or  piled  one  upon  another,  and  kept  from 
falling  by  means  of  strings;  while  incessantly 
threading  their  way  through  all  this  intricacy  is  a 
mass  of  people,  some  of  whose  dresses  speak  of  a 
recent  purchase  in  the  lane." 

"Whitechapel,"  says  Mr.  HoUingshead,  in  his 


KIRBY  CASTLE,    BETHNAL  GREEN.      (THE   BLIND  BEGGAR'S  HOUSE). 


of  the  shawl  dressing-gown,  the  glossy  black  of  the 
restored  garments,  the  shine  of  newly-turpentined 
black  satin  waistcoats,  the  scarlet  and  green  of 
some  flaming  tartan— these  things,  mixed  with  the 
hues  of  the  women's  garments,  spotted  and  striped, 
certainly  present  a  scene  which  cannot  be  beheld 
in  any  other  part  of  the  greatest  City  in  the  world, 
nor  in  any  other  portion  of  the  world  itself. 

"  The  ground  has  also  its  array  of  colours.  It  is 
covered  with  lines  of  boots  and  shoes,  their  shining 
black  relieved  here  and  there  by  the  admixture  of 
females'  boots,  with  drab,  green,  plum,  or  lavender- 
coloured  '  legs,'  as  the  upper  part  of  the  boot  is 
always  called  in  the  trade.  There  is,  too,  an  ad- 
mixture of  men's  'button-boots,'  with  drab-cloth 
legs ;  and  of  a  few  red,  yellow,  and  russet-coloured 
slippers ;  and  of  children's  coloured  morocco  boots 
61— Vol.  II. 


"  Ragged  London,"  in  i86r,  "  may  not  be  the  worst 
of  the  many  districts  in  this  quarter,  but  it  is  un- 
-doubtedly  bad  enough.  Taking  the  broad  road 
from  Aldgate  Church  to  Old  Whitechapel  Church — 
a  thoroughfare  in  some  parts  like  the  high  street 
of  an  old-fashioned  country  town — ^you  may  pass 
on  either  side  about  twenty  narrow  avenues,  lead- 
ing to  thousands  of  closely-packed  nests,  full  to 
overflowing  with  dirt,  misery,  and  rags."  Inkhorn 
Court  is  an  Irish  colony,  with  several  families  in 
one  room.  Tewkesbury  Buildings  is  a  colony  of 
Dutch  Jews.  George  Yard  contains  about  one 
hundred  EngUshfamiHes;  the  inhabitants  are  chiefly 
dock-labourers.  The  other  half  of  the  residents  are 
thieves,  costermongers,  stallkeepers,  professional 
beggars,  rag-dealers,  brokers,  and  small  tradesmen. 
The  Jewish  poor  are  independent  and  self-sup- 


146 


OLD^AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tBethnal  Green. 


porting,  and  keep  up  tile  ceremonies  of  their  nation 
under  the  most ;  adverse  circumstances.  In  one 
black  miserable  liut  in  Castle  Alley  a  poor  Jewess 
was  found  burning  "the  twelve  months'  lamp"  for 
her  deceased  mother,  although  it  was  only  a  glim- 
mering wick  in  a  saucerful  of  rank  oil. 

The  London  Hospital,  situated  in  Whitechapel, 
and  founded  in  1740,  is  one  of  the  most  useful  and 
extensive  charities  of  the  kind  in  the  metropoHs. 
The  building  was  erected  in  1752,  from  the  designs 
of  Mr.  B.  Mainwaring,  and  originally  contained  only 
thirty-five  wards  and  439  beds.  The  amount  of 
fixed  income  is  ;^i  2,000,  derived  from  funded 
property,  voluntary  donations,  legacies,  &c. 

The  British  and  Foreign  Sailors'  Church,  for- 
merly called  the  Danish  Church,  Whitechapel,  was 
built  in  1696  byCaius  Gabriel  Cibber,  the  sculptor, 
at  the  expense  of  Christian  V.,  King  of  Denmark, 
for  the  use  of  the  Danish  merchants  and  sailors  of 
London.  Opposite  to  the  pulpit  is  the  royal  pew, 
where  Christian  VII.  sat  when  he  visited  London 
in  1768.  Attached  to  the  pulpit  is  a  handsome  brass 
frame,  with  four  sand-glasses.  Both  Caius  Cibber 
and  his  more  celebrated  son,  Colley  Cibber,  Pope's 
enemy,  are  buried  here.  The  church  was  opened 
as  a  British  and  Foreign  Sailors'  Church  in  1845. 

The  Royalty  Theatre,  Wells  Street,  Wellclose 
Sqiiare  (named  from  Goodman's  Fields'  Well,  1735), 
was  opened  in  1787,  when  Braham  first  appeared 
on  the  stage  as  "Cupid,"  and  John  Palmer  was 
manager.  Lee,  Lewis,  Batesf  Holland,  and  Mrs. 
Gibbs  were  of  the  company.  It  was  purchased  in 
1820  by  Mr.  Peter  Moore,  M.P.,  and  was  burned 
down  in  1826.  In  1828  a  new  theatre  was  run 
up  in  seven  months  on  the  same  site.  The  roof 
was  a  ponderous  one  of  iron.  During  the  rehearsal 
of  Guy  Mannering,  a  few  day^  after  opening,  the 
roof  fell  in,  crushing  to  death  Mr.  Maurice,  one 
of  the  proprietors,  and  twelve  other  persons,  and 
wounding  twenty  more. 

The  original  Goodman's  Fields  Theatre,  origi- 
nally a  throwster's  shop,  in  Leman  Street,  or  Argyll 


Street,  Goodman's  Fields,  was  built  in  1729,  by 
Thomas  Odell,   a  dramatic  author,  and   the  first 
licensee  of  the  stage  under  Walpole's  Licensing 
Act.     A  sermon  preached  at  St.  Botolph's  Church, 
Aldgate,  against  the  new  theatre,  frightened  Odell, 
who  sold  the  property  to  a  Mr.  Henry  Gifiard,  who 
opened  the  new  house  in  the  year  1732.      He, 
however,  was  soon  scared  away,  and  removed,  in 
1735,  to  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields;  but  he  managed  to 
return  in  1741,  bringing  with  him  David  Garrick, 
who  had  appeared  in  private  at  St.  John's  Gate, 
and  now  essayed  the  character  of  "Richard  III." 
with  enormous  success.      Horace  Walpole  writes 
his  friend    Mann    about  him,  but  says,.  "I  see 
nothing  wonderful  in  it.     The  Duke  of  Argyll  says 
he  is  superior  to  Betterton."    Gray  the  poet,  in  an 
extant  letter,  says,  "Did  I  tell    you  about  Mr. 
Garrick,  the  town  are  gone  mad  after?    There  are 
a  dozen  dukes  of  a  night  at  Goodman's  Fields, 
sometimes,  and  yet  I  am  still  in  the  opposition." 

This  theatre  was  pulled  down,  says  Cunningham, 
about  1746 ;  a  second  theatre  was  burnt  down 
in  1802. 

Goodman's  Fields  were  originally  part  of  a  farm 
belonging  to  the  Abbey  of  the  Nuns  of  St.  Clair. 
"At  the  which  farm,"  says  Stow,  "I  myself,  in 
my  youth,  have  fetched  many  a  halfpenny-worth 
of  milk,  and  never  had  less  than  three  ale-pints  for 
a  halfpenny  in  summer,  nor  less  than  one  ale-quart 
for  a  halfpenny  in  winter,  always  hot  from  the  kine, 
as  the  same  was  milked  and  strained.  One  Trolop, 
and  afterwards  Goodman,  were  the  farmers  there, 
and  had  thirty  or  forty  kine  to  the  pail." 

In  1720  Strype  describes  the  streets  as  chiefly  in- 
habited by  thriving  Jews.  There  were  also  tenters 
for  clothworkers,  and  a  cart-way  out  of  Whitechapel 
into  Well  Close.  The  initials  of  the  stre.dts,  Pescod, 
or  Prescott,  Ayliffe,  Leman,  and  Maunsell,  formed 
the  word  "palm."  In  1678  a  great  many  Roman 
funeral  ums,  with  bars  and  silver  money,  and  a 
copper  urn,  were  found  here,  proving  Goodman's 
Fields  to  have  been  a  Roman  burial-place. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

BETHNAL  GREEN. 

Origin  of  the  Name— The  Ballad  of  the  Blind  Beggar  df  Bethnal  Green— Kirby's  Castle— The  Bethnal  Green  Museum— Sir  Richard  Wallace's 
Collection— Nichol  Street  and  its  Population— Th»  French  Hospital  in  Bethnal  Green  and  its  present  Site. 


According  to  Mr.  •  Lysons,  Bethnal  Green  pro- 
bably derives  its  name  from  the  old  family  of  the 
Bathons,  who  had  possessions  in  Stepney  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  I. 


The  old  ballad  of  "the  Beggar  of  Bethnal 
Green,"  written  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  records 
the  popular  local  legend  of  the  concealment  under 
this  disguise  of  Henry  de  Montford,  son  of  the 


Bethnal  Green.] 


THE  WALLACE  COLLECTION! 


147 


redoubtable  Earl  of  Leicester.  He  was  wounded 
at  Evesham,  fighting  by  his  father's  side,  and  was 
found  among  the  dead  by  a  baron's  daughter,  who 
sold  her  jewels  to  marry  him,  and  assumed  with 
him  a  beggar's  attire,  to  preserve  his  life.  Their 
only  child,  a  daughter,  was  the  "Pretty  Bessie" 
of  the  ballad  in  Percy. 

"  My  father,  shee  said,  is  soone  to  ^e  seene, 
The  seely  blind  beggar  of  Bednall  Green, 
That  daylye  sits  begging  for  charitie, 
He  is  the  good  father  of  pretty  Bessee. 

"  His  markes  and  his  tokens  are  knowen  very  well. 
He  alwayes  is  led  with  a  dogg  and  a  bell  j 
A  seely  old  man,  God  knoweth,  is  hee, 
Yet  hee  is  the  father  of  pretty  Bessee." 

The  sign-posts  at  Bethnal  Green  have  for  cen- 
turies preserved  the  memory  of  this  story;  the 
beadles'  staffs  were  adorned  in  accordance  with  the 
ballad ;  and  the  inhabitants,  in  the  early  part  of  the 
century,  used  to  boldly  point  out  an  ancient  house 
on  the  Green  as  the  palace  of  the  Blind  Beggar, 
and  show  two  special  turrets  as  the  places  where 
he  deposited  his  gains. 

This  old  house,  called  in  the  Survey  of  1703 
Bethnal  Green  House,  was  in  reality  built  in  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth  by  John  Kirby,  a  rich  London 
citizen.  He  was  ridiculed  at  the  time  for  his  ex- 
travagance, in  some  rhymes  which  classed  him 
with  other  similar  builders,  and  which  ranked 
Kirby's  Castle  with  "  Fisher's  Folly,  Spinila's  Plea- 
sure, and  Megse's  Glory."  It  was  eventually  turned 
into  a  madhouse.  Sir  Richard  Gresham,  father  of 
the  builder  of  the  Royal  Exchange,  was  a  frequent 
resident  at  Bethnal  Green. 

The  opening,  ,in  1872,  of  an  Eastern  branch  of 
the  South  Kensington  Museum  at  Bethnal  Green 
was  the  result  of  the  untiring  efforts  of  Mr.  Cole, 
aided  by  Sir  Antonio  Brady,  the  Rev.  Septimus 
Hansard,  rector  of  Bethnal  Green,  and  Mr.  Clabon, 
Dr.  Millar,  and  other  gentlemen  interested  in  the 
district,  and  was  crowned  wjth  success  by  the 
princely  liberality  of  Sir  Richard  Wallace  (the  in- 
heritor of  the  Marquis  of  Hertford's  thirty  years' 
collection  of  art  treasures),  who  offered  to  the 
education  committee  the  loan  of  all  his  pictures  and 
many  other  works  of  art.  The  Prince  and  Princess 
of  Wales  were  present  at  the  opening  of  the 
Museum,  which  took  place  June  24>  1872. 

Sir  Richard  Wp.llace's  collection,  which  occupied 
the  whole  of  the  upper  galleries,  comprised  not 
only  an  assemblage  of  ancient  and  modern  paint- 
ings in  oil,  by  the  greatest  masters  of  past  or  modern 
times,  a  beautiful  gallery  of  water-colour  drawings, 
miniatures,  and  enamels  by  French,  German,  and 
British  artists,  but  also  some  fine  specimens  of 


bronzes,  art  porcelain  and  pottery,  statuary,  snuff- 
boxes, decorative  furniture,  and  jewellers' and  gold- 
smiths' work.  The  collection  was  strongest  in 
Dutch  and  modern  French  pictures.  Cuyp  was 
represented  by  eleven  pictures,  Hobbema  by  five, 
Maes  by  four,  Metzu  by  six,Mieris  by  nine,  Netscher 
by  four,  Jan  Steen  by  four,  Teniers  by  five,  Vander- 
neer  by  six,  A.  Vandevelde  by  three,  W.  Vande- 
velde  by  eight,  Philip  Wouvermans  by  five,  Rubens 
by  eleven,  Rembrandt  by  eleven,  Vandyck  by  six. 
In  the  Italian  school  the  collection  was  deficient  in 
early  masters,  but  there  were  excellent  specimens 
of  Da  Vinci,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  Carlo  Dolce,  and 
Canaletto.  Of  the  Spanish  school  there  were  fine 
specimens  of  Murillo  and  Velasquez.  The  French 
school  was  well  represented — Greuze  by  twenty- 
two  works,  Watteau  by  eleven,  Boucher  by  eleven, 
Lancret  by  nine,  and  Fragonard  by  five.  There 
were  forty-one  works  by  Horace  Vemet,  thirteen 
by  Bellangd,  four  by  Pils,  fifteen  by  Delaroche, 
five  by  Ary  Scheffer,  two  by  Delacroix,  two  by 
Robert  Fleury,  five  by  Gericault,  six  by  Prud'hon, 
twelve  by  Roqueplan,  thirty-one  by  Decamps,  and 
fifteen  by  Meissonier. 

In  the  English  collection  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
stood  pre-eminent.  His  matchless  portrait  of 
"Nelly  O'Brien"  stood  out  as  beautiful  and  be- 
witching as  ever,  though  the  finer  carnations  had 
to  some  extent  flown.  The  childish  innocence  of 
the  "  Strawberry  Girl"  found  thousands  of  admirers, 
though  the  picture  has  faded  to  a  disastrous  degree ; 
and  "Love  me.  Love  my  Dog,"  had  crowds  of 
East-end  admirers. 

Among  the  superb  portraits  by  Reynolds,  in 
his  most  florid  manner,  "Lady  EUzabeth  Seymour- 
Conway,"  and  "Frances  Countess  of  Lincoln,'' 
daughters  of  the  first  Marquis  of  Hertford,  and  one 
of  "Mrs.  Hoare  and  Son"  (a  masterpiece),  were 
the  most  popular.  The  mildness  and  dignity  of 
Reynolds  was  supplemented  by  the  ineffable  grace 
and  charm  of  Gainsborough.  Novices  in  art  were 
astonished  at  the  naivete  of  "  Miss  Haverfield," 
one  of  the  most  delightful  child -portraits  ever 
painted.  The  fine  works  of  Bonington,  a  painter 
of  genius  little  known,  astonished  those  who  were 
ignorant  of  his  works.  Among  his  finest  pro- 
ductions at  Bethnal  Green  were  "  The  Ducal  Palace 
at  Venice,"  "The  Earl  of  Surrey  and  the  Fair 
Geraldine,"  and  "  Henri  IV.  of  France  and  the 
Spanish  Ambassador."  This  king,  to  the  horror 
of  the  proud  hidalgo,  is  carrying  his  children 
pick-a-back. 

Among  the  French  pictures  there  were  eleven 
first-rate  Bouchers.  This  protege  of  Madame  de 
Pompadour  was  a  great  favourite  with  the  Marquis, 


148 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Bethnal  Green. 


and  at  Bethnal  Green  one  saw  him  at  his  best. 
There  was  a  portrait  of  "  The  Pompadour,"  quite 
coquettishly  innocent,  and  those  well-known  pic- 
tures, "  The  Sleeping  Shepherdess,"  the  "  Amphi- 
trlte,"   and    the    "Jupiter    disguised    as    Diana." 
Three  sacred  pictures  by  Philippe  de  Champagne, 
showed  us  French  reUgious  art  of«  the  most  ascetic 
kind,  presenting  a  striking  contrast  to  the  gaiety 
and  license  of  French  art  in  general.     In  Greuze 
we  find  the  affected  simplicity  and  the  forced  senti- 
ment of  the  age  before  the  Revolution  in  its  most 
graceful  form.     "  The  Bacchante,"  "  The  ■  Broken 
Mirror,"  "  The   Broken  Eggs,"  and  the  peerless 
portrait  of  "  Sophie  Arnould,"  enabled  even  those 
unacquainted   with  the  charm  of  this  painter  to 
appreciate  his  merits.     Lancret,  the  contemporary 
of   Boucher,   was  represented    by    many    works, 
among  which  the  critics  at  once  decided  on  the 
pre-eminence  of  "The  Broken  Necklace,"  and  a 
portrait  of  the  famous  dancer,  "  Mdlle.  Camargo." 
Lepici^    was    represented   by  his    "  Teaching   to 
Read,"   and    "The   Breakfast,"  capital  pieces    of 
character.      Watteau,   that    delightful    painter    of 
theatrical  landscape,  was  a  favourite  of  the  Marquis, 
and  at    Bethnal    Green    appeared    his    fairy-like 
"  Landscape  with  Pastoral  Groups,"  his  delightful 
"  Conversation  Humourieuse,"  and  his  inimitable 
"  Arlequin  and  Colombine."   What  painter  conveys 
so  fully  the  enjoyment  of  a  fete  champUre  or  the 
grace  of  coquettish  woman  ?    A  dazzling  array  of 
twenty-six  Decamps  included  the  ghastly  "  Execu- 
tion in  the  Eas{,"   and  that  wonderful   sketch  of 
Turkish  children,  "  The  Breaking-up  of  a  Constan- 
tinople School."    The  fifteen  Paul  Delaroche  s  com- 
prised "  The  Repose  in  Egypt,"  one  of  the  finest 
pictures  in  the   collection;  "The  Princes  in  the 
Tower  hearing  the   approach  of  the  Murderers," 
and  that  powerful  picture,  "  The  Last  Sickness  of 
Cardinal  Mazarini"     Amongst  the   specimens   of 
that  high-minded  painter,  Ary  Scheffer,  we  had  the 
"  Francesca  da  Rimini,"  one  of  the  most  touching 
of  the  painter's  works,  and  the  "  Margaret  at  the 
Fountain."     Eugene   Delacroix,  Meissonier,  Rosa 
Bonheur,    Horace  Vernet,    Caspar   and   Nicholas 
Poussin,  and  many   other  well-known  artists,  are 
also  represented  in  this  part    of  the  great    col- 
lection. 

"  Nichols  Street,"  says  a  newspaper  writer  of 
1 862,  writing  of  Bethnal  Green  in  its  coarser  aspects, 
"  New  Nichols  Street,  Half  Nichols  Street,  Turvile 
Street,  comprising  within  the  same  area  numerous 
blind  courts  and  alleys,  form  a  densely  crowded 
district  in  Bethnal  Green.  Among  its  inhabitants 
may  be  found  street-vendors  of  every  kind  of  pro- 
duce, travellers  to  fairs,  tramps,  dog-fanciers,  dog- 


stealers,  men  and  women  sharpers,  shoplifters,  and 
pickpockets.  It  abounds  with  the  young  Arabs  of 
the  streets,  and  its  outward  moral  degradation  is  at 
once  apparent  to  any  one  who  passes  that  way. 
Here  the  police  are  certain  to  be  found,  day  and 
night,  their  presence  being  required  to  quell  riots 
and  to  preserve  decency.  Sunday  is  a  day  much 
devoted  to  pet  pigeons  and  to  bird-singing  clubs ; 
prizes  are  given  to  such  as  excel  in  note,  and  a 
ready  sale  follows  each  award.  Time  thus  em- 
ployed was  formerly  devoted  to  cock-fighting.  In 
this  locality,  twenty-five  years  ago,  an  employer  of 
labour,  Mr.  Jonathan  Duthiot,  made  an  attempt  to 
influence  the  people  for  good,  by  the  hire  of  a  room 
for  meeting  purposes.  The  first  attendance  con- 
sisted of  one  person.  Persistent  efforts  were,  how- 
ever, made ;  other  rooms  have  from  time  to  time 
been  taken  and  enlarged ;  there  is  a  hall  for  Chris- 
tian instruction,  and  another  for  educational  pur- 
poses; illustrated  lectures  are  delivered;  a  loan- 
Hbrary  has  been  established,  also  a  clothing-club 
and  penny  bank,  and  training-classes  for  industrial 
purposes." 

Mr.  Smiles,  in  his  "  Huguenots  in  London,"  has 
an  interesting  page  on  the  old  French  Hospital  in 
Bethnal  Green  sr—"  Among  the  charitable  institu- 
tions founded  by  the  refugees  for  the  succour  of 
their  distressed    fellow-countrymen  in   England," 
says   Mr.  Smiles,  "the   most  important  was  the 
French    Hospital.     This    establishment  owes  its 
origin  to  a  M.  de  Gg.stigny,  a  French  gentleman, 
who   had    been    Master   of    the   Buckhounds  to 
William  III.,  in  Holland,  while  Prince  of  Orange. 
At  his  death,  in  1708,  he  bequeathed  a  sum  of 
j^i,ooo  towards  founding  an  hospital,  in  London, 
for  the  relief  of  distressed  French  Protestants.  The 
money  Was  placed  at  interest  for  eight  years,  during 
which  successive  benefactions  were  added  to  the 
fund.     In  1 7 16,  a  piece  of  ground  in  Old  Street, 
St.    Luke's,   was   purchased   of  the   Ironmongers' 
Company,  and'  a  lease  was  taken  from  the  City  of 
London  of  some  adjoining  land,  forming  altogether 
an  area  of  about  four  acres,  on  which  a  building 
was  erected,  and   fitted   up  for  the  reception  of 
eighty  poor  Protestants  of  the  French  nation.     In 
1 7 18,  George  I.  granted  a  charter  of  incorporation 
to  the  governor  and  directors  of  the  hospital,  under 
which  the  Earl  of  Galway  was  appointed  the  first 
governor.     Shortly  after,  in  November,  1718,  the 
opening  of  the  institution  was   celebrated  by  a 
solemn  act  of  religion,  and  the  chapel  was  conse- 
crated amidst  a  great  concourse  of  refugees  and 
their  descendants,  the  Rev.  Philip  Menard,  minister 
of  the  French  chapel  of  St.  James's,  conducting  the 
service  on  the  occasion, 


Spitalfields.T 


The  spittle  sermons. 


149 


"From  that  time  the  funds  of  the  institution 
steadily  increased.  The  French  merchants  of 
Toulon,  who  had  been  prosperous  in  trade, 
liberally  contributed  towards  its  support,  and 
legacies  and  donations  multiplied.  Lord  Galway 
bequeathed  a  thousand  pounds  to  the  hospital,  in 
1720,  and  in  the  following  year  Baron  Hervart  de 
Huningue  gave  a  donation  of  ;^4,ooo.  The  cor- 
poration were  placed  in  the  possession  of  ample 
means,  and  they  accordingly  proceeded  to  erect 
additional  buildings,  in  which  they  were  enabled, 


by  the  year  1760,,  to  give  an  asylum  to  234  poor 
people." 

The  French  Hospital  has  recently  been  removed 
from  its  original  site  to  Victoria  Park,  where  a 
handsome  building  has  been  erected  as  an  hospital, 
for  the  accommodation  of  forty  men  and  twenty 
women,  after  the  designs  of  Mr.  Robert  Lewis 
Roumieu,  architect,  one  of  the  directors,  Mr. 
Roumieu  being  himself  descended  from  an  illus- 
trious Huguenot  family — the  Roumieus  of  Lan- 
guedoc. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

SPITALFIELDS. 

The  Priory  of  St.  Mary,  Spittle— A  Royal  Visit— The  Spital  Sermons— A  Long  Sermon— Roman  Remains— The  Silk  Weavers— French  Names, 
and  Modem  Versions  of  them — Riots  in  Spitaliields — Bird  Fanciers— €maU  Heads — **  Cat  and  Dog  Money." 


The  original  Priory  of  St.  Mary  Spittle  was  founded 
by  Walter  Brune  and  Rosia  his  wife,  in  the  year 
1 197.  It  was  surrendered  at  the  dissolution  to 
King  Henry,  and  at  that  time  the  hospital  which 
belonged  to  the  priory  was  found  to  contain  one 
hundred  and  eighty  beds.  In  place  of  the  hospital 
many  large  mansions  were  built,  and  among  these 
Strype  especially  mentions  that  of  Sir  Horatio  Pal- 
lavicini,  an  Italian  merchant,  who  acted  as  ambas- 
sador to  Queen  Elizabeth;  and  in  the  reign  of 
James  I.  we  find  the  Austrian  ambassador  lodging 
there. 

In  the  year  1559  Queen  Elizabeth  came  in  state 
from  St.  Mary  Spittle,  attended  by  a  thousand  men 
in  harness,  and  ten  great  guns,  with  drums,  flutes, 
and  trumpets  sounding,  and  morris-dancers  bring- 
ing two  white  bears  in  a  cart. 

Long  after  the  dissolution  a  portion  of  the  large 
churchyard  of  the  hospital  remained,  with  a  pulpit 
cross  within  a  walled  enclosure,  at  which  cross,  on 
certain  days  every  Easter,  sermons  were  preached. 
Opposite  that  pulpit  was  a  small  two-storeyed  build- 
ing, where  the  alderman  and  sheriffs  came  to  hear 
the  sermons,  with  their  ladies  at  a  window  over 
them.  Foxe,  in  his  "  Book  of  Martyrs,"  repeatedly 
mentions  these  Spital  sermons. 

The  preaching  at  the  Spittle  seems  to  have  been 
a  custom  of  great  antiquity:  It  is  said  that  Dr. 
Barrow  once  preached  a  sermon  on  charity  at  the 
Spittle,  before  the  Lord  Mayor  and  aldermen,  which 
occupied  three  hours  and  a  half  Being  asked, 
after  he  came  down  from  the  pulpit,  if  he  was  not 
tired,  "  Yes,  indeed,"  said  he,  "  I  began  to  be  weary 
with  standing  so  long." 

In  1594  a  gallery  was  built  near  the  pulpit  for 


the  governor  and  children  of  Chrisf s  Hospital ; 
and  in  161 7  we  find  many  of  the  Lords  of  King 
James's  Privy  Council  attending  the  Spital  sermons, 
and  afterwards  dining  with  the  Lord  Mayor,  at  a 
most  liberal  and  bountiful  dinner  at  Billingsgate. 

"  It  appears,"  says  Bingham,  speaking  of  the 
Spital  sermons,  "  it  was  usual  in  those  times  that 
on  Good  Friday  a  divine  of  eminence  should,  by 
appointment,  expatiate  on  Christ's  passion,  in  a 
sermon  at  Paul's  Cross ;  on  the  three  days  next 
Easter,  Monday,  Tuesday,  and  Wednesday,  a  bishop, 
a  dean,  and  a  doctor  of  divinity,  should  preach  at 
the  Spital  concerning  the  resurrection;  and  on 
Low  Sunday  another  learned  divine  was  to  rehearse 
the  sutistance  of  the  other  four,  in  a  fifth  sermon. 
At  this  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Corporation  always 
attended,  robed  in  violet  gowns,  on  Good  Friday 
and  Easter  Wednesday,  and  on  the  other  days  in 
scarlet.  This  custom  continued  till  the  great 
rebellion,  in  1642,  when  it  was  discontinued.  How- 
ever, it  was  revived  after  the  Restoration,  except 
that  instead  of  being  preached  at  Paul's  Cross, 
which  had  been  demolished,  the  sermons  were  in 
the  choir  of  the  cathedral.  After  the  Great  Fire 
they' were  discontinued,  both  at  St.  Paul's  -Church 
and  at  the  Spital,  and  the  Easter  sermons  were 
delivered  at  some  appointed  church,  and  at  last  at 
St.  Bridget's,  in  Fleet  Street,  where  they  continued 
invariably  till  the  late  repairs  of  that  church,  when 
they  were  removed  to  Christ  Church,  Newgate  Street, 
where  they  still  continue." 

In  1576,  says  Stow,  in  treating  of  a  brick-field 
near  the  Spital  churchyard,  there  were  discovered 
many  Roman  funeral  urns,  containing  copper  coins 
of  Claudius,  Vespasian,  Nero,  Antoninus  Pius,  and 


ISO 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Spitalfields. 


Trajan,  lachrymatories,  Samian  ware  lamps,  and 
small  images,  also  Saxon  stone  coffins.  Dr.  Carr- 
satmalsa  found  there  a  skull,  which  he  believed  to 
be  a  giant's,  though  others  took  it  for  an  elephant's. 
Some  of  these  stone  coffins  are  still  preserved  in 
the  vaults  of  Christ  Church. 

Bagford,  in  Leland's  "Collectanea,"  mentions 
the  Priory  of  St.  Mary  Spittle  as  then  standing, 
strongly  built  of  timber,  with  a  turret  at  one  angle. 
Its  ruins,  says  Mr.  Timbs,  were  discovered  early 
in  the  last  century,  north  of  Spital  Square.     The 


of  Nantes,  settled  here,  and  thus  founded  the  silk 
manufacture  in  England;  introducing  the  weaving 
of  lustrings,  alamodes,  brocades,  satins,  paduasoys, 
ducapes,  and  black  velvets.  In  17 13  it  was  stated 
that  silks,  gold  and  silver  stuffs,  and  ribbons  were 
made  here,  as  good  as  those  of  French  fabric, 
and  that  black  silk  for  hoods  and  scarves  was  made 
actually  worth  three  hundred  thousand  pounds. 
During  the  reigns  of  Queen  Anne,  George  I.,  and 
George  II.,  the  Spitalfields  weavers  greatly  in- 
creased; in  1832,  50,000  persons  were  entirely  ds- 


ST.  HELEN'S  PRIORY,  AND  LEATHERSELLERS'  HALL.     {From  a  Vieiv,  by  Malcolm,  1799.) 


pulpit,  destroyed  during  the  Civil  Wars,  stood  at 
the  north-east  corner  of  the  square.  In  the  map 
of  Elizabeth's  reign  the  Spittle  Fields  are  at  the 
north-east  extremity  of  London,  with  only  a  few 
houses  on  the  site  of  the  Spital.  A  map  published 
a  century  Later  shows  a  square  field  bounded  with 
houses,  with  the  old  artillery-ground,  which  had 
formerly  belonged  to  the  priory,  on  the  west.  Cul- 
peper,  the  famous  herbahst,  occupied  a  house  then 
in  the  fields,  and  subsequently  a  public-house  at 
the  corner  of  Red  Lion  Court. 

This  is  the  great  district  for  silk-weavers.  "  Spital 
Square,"  says  Mr.  Timbs,  "  at  the  south-east  corner, 
has  been  the  heart  of  the  silk  district  since  '  the 
poor  Protestant  strangers,  Walloons  and  French,' 
driven  from  France  by  the  revocation  of  the  Edict 


pendent  on  the  silk-manufacture,  and  the  looms 
varied  from  14,000  to  17,000.  Of  these  great 
numbers  are  often  unemployed;  and  the  distribu- 
tion of  funds  raised  for  their  relief  has  attracted  to 
Spitalfields  a  great  number  of  poor  persons,  and 
thus  pauperised  the  district.  The  earnings  of 
weavers,  in  1854,  did  not  exceed  ten  shillings  per 
week,  working  fourteen  to  sixteen  hours  a  day. 
The  weaving  is  either  the  richest,  or  the  thinnest 
and  poorest.  The  weavers  are  principally  English, 
and  of  English  origin,  but  the  manufacturers,  or 
masters',  are  of  French  extraction,  and  the  Guille- 
bauds,  the  Desormeaux,  the  Chabots,  the  Tur- 
quands,  the  Mercerons,  and  the  Chauvets  trace 
their  connection  with  the  refugees  of  1685.  Many 
translated  their  names  into  English,  by  which  the 


SIR  PAUL  Pindar's  lodge.  the  "sir  paul  pindar.  ■ 

(From  a  View  published  by  N.  Smith,  1791. )  {From  an  Origiiial  Sketch.) 
IIISR.      (From  a  Drawing  by  7.  T.  Smith,  1810.) 


152 


6ld  aMd  new  LOI^DON. 


[Bishopsgate. 


old  families  may  still  be  known:  thus,  the  Le- 
maitres  called  themselves  Masters;  the  Leroys, 
King;  the  Tonneliers,  Coopers;  the  Lejeunes, 
Young ;  the  Leblancs,  White ;  the  Lenoirs,  Black ; 
the  Loiseaux,  Bird." 

Riots  among  the  Spitalfields  weavers,  for  many 
a  century,  were  of  frequent  occurrence.  Any  de- 
cline of  prices,  or  opposition  in  trade,  set  these 
turbulent  workmen  in  a  state  of  violent  effer- 
vescence. At  one  time  they  sallied  out  in  parties, 
and  tore  oif  the  calico  gowns  from  every  woman 
they  met.  Perhaps  the  greatest  riot  was  in  1765, 
when,  on  the  occasion  of  the  king  going  to  Parlia- 
ment to  give  his  assent  to  the  Regency  Bill,  they 
formed  a  great  procession,  headed  by  red  flags  and 
black  banners,  to  present  a  petition  to  the  House, 
complaining  that  they  were  reduced  to  starvation 
by  the  importation  of  French  silks.  They  terrified 
the  House  of  Lords  into  an  adjournment,  insulted 
several  hostile  members,  and  in  the  evening  attacked 
Bedforc^  House,  and  tried  to  pull  down  the  walls, 
declaring  that  the  duke  had  been  bribed  to  make 
the  treaty  of  Fontainebleau,  which  had  brought 
French  silks  and  poverty  into  the  land.  The  Riot 
Act  was  then  read,  and  detachments  of  the  Guards 
called  out.  The  mob  then  fled'  many  being  much 
hurt  and  trampled  on.  At  a  yet  later  date  mobs 
of  Spitalfields  weavers  used  to  break  into  houses 
and  cut  the  looms  of  men  who  were  working  with 
improved  machinery.     Many  outrages  were  com- 


mitted by  these  "  cutters,"  and  many  lives  lost  in 
scuflSes  and  fights. 

The  older  houses  inhabited  by  the  vireavers  have 
wide  latticed  windows  in  the  upper  storeys,  to  light 
the  looms.  Being  nearly  all  bird-fanciers,  the 
weavers  supply  London  with  singing-birds,  and 
half  the  linnets,  woodlarks,  goldfinches,  and  green- 
finches sold  in  the  metropolis  are  caught  by  Spital- 
fields weavers  in  October  and  March.  They  are 
fond  of  singing-matches,  which  they  determine  by 
the  burning  of  an  inch  of  candle. 

Spitalfields  weavers  are  said  to  have  extremely 
small  heads,  6J  or  6f  inches  being  the  prevailing 
width,  although  the  average  size  of  the  male  head 
in  England  is  7  inches.  We  do  not  know  whether 
the  weavers  still  continue  the  old  clothworkers' 
habit  of  singing  at  their  looms,  as  mentioned  by 
Shakespeare  and  Ben  Jonson.  "  I  would  I  were  a 
weaver,"  says  Falstaff ;  "  I  could  sing  all  manner 
of  songs."  And  Cutbeard,  in  Ben  Jonson's  Silent 
Woman,  remarks,  "  He  got  his  cold  with  sitting  up 
late,  and  singing  catches  with  clothworkers." 

Spitalfields  was  a  hamlet  of  Stepney  until  1729, 
when  it  was  made  a  distinct  parish,  and  Christ 
Church  consecrated.  Among  the  parochial  chari- 
ties, says  Mr.  Timbs,  is  "  Cat  and  Dog  Money,"  an 
eccentric  bequest  to  be  paid  on  the  death  of  certain 
pet  dogs  and  cats. 

In  one  of  the  houses  in  Spital  Square  lived  Pope's 
friend,  the  celetjrated  Lord  Bolingbroke. 


CHAPTER     XX. 


BISHOPSGATE. 


The  Old  Gate— The  "White  Hart"— Sir  Paul  Pindar's  House  :  its  Ancient  Glories  and  Present  Condition— The  Lodge  in  Half-moon  Alley— 
St.  Helen's  ani  the  Nuns'  Hall— The  Tombs— Sir  Julius  Caesar— Sir  John  Crosby— Modern  Improvements  —The  Windows— Crosby  Hall 
and  its  History— Allusions  to  it  in  Shakespeare — Famous  Tenants  of  Crosby  Hall— Richard  Crookback— Sir  Thomas  More— Bonvici. 


BisHOPSGATE,  according  to  Stow,  was  probably 
built  by  good  Bishop  Erkenwald,  son  of  King  Offa, 
and  repaired  by  Bishop  William,  the  Norman,  in 
the  reign  of  the  Conqueror.  Henry  III.  confirmed 
to  merchants  of  the  Hanse  certain  privileges  by 
which  they  were  bound  to  keep  Bishopsgate  in 
repair,  and  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  we  find 
them  rebuilding  it.  The  gate  was  adorned  with 
the  effigies  of  two  bishops,  probably  Bishop 
Erkenwald  and  Bishop  William,  and  with  effigies 
supposed  to  have  represented  King  Alfred  and 
Aired,  Earl  of  Mefcia,  to  whom  Alfred  entrusted 
the  care  of  the  gate.  It  was  rebuilt  several  times. 
The  latest  form  of  it  is  shown  on  page  154.  The 
rooms  over  the  gate  were,  in  Strype's  time,  allotted 


to  one  of  the  Lord  Mayor's  carvers.  Pennant 
notices  an  old  inn,  the  "White  Hart,"  not  far 
from  this  gate,  which  was  standing  until  a  few 
years  back. 

The  old  house  where  Sir  Paul  Pindar,  a,  great 
City,  merchant  of  the  reign  of  James  I.,  lived,  still 
exists  in  Bishopsgate  Street,  with  some  traces  of 
its  ancient  splendour.  This  Sir  Paul  was  am- 
bassador for  James  I.  to  the  Grand  Legion,  and 
helped  to  extend  English  commerce  in  Turkey. 
He  brought  back  with  him  a  diamond  valued  at 
;^3o,ooo,  which  James  wished  to  buy  on  credit,  but 
prudent  Sir  Paul  declined  this  unsatisfactory  mode 
of  purchase,  and  used  to  lend  it  to  the  monarch 
on  gala  days.     Charles  I.  afterwards  purchased  the 


Bishopsgatc*] 


SIR  PAUL  PINDAR'S   HOUSE. 


153 


precious  stone.  Sir  Paul  was  appointed  farmer  of 
the  Customs  to  James  I.,  and  frequently  supplied 
the  cravings  for  money  both  of  James  and  Charles. 
In  the  year  1639  Sir  Paul  was  esteemed  worth 
^^236,000,  exclusive  of  bad  debts.  He  expended 
;^io,ooo  in. the  repairing  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral, 
yet,  nevertheless,  died  in  debt,  owing  to  his  gene- 
rosity to  King  Charles,  The  king  owed  him  and 
the  other  Commissioners  of  the  Customs  ;^3oo,ooo, 
for  the-  security  of  which,  in  1649,  they  offered  the 
Parliament  ^^100,000,  but  the  proposition  was  not 
entertained.  On  his  death  affairs  were  left  in 
such  a  perplexed  state,  that  his  executor,  William 
Toomer,  unable  to  bear  the  work -and  the  dis- 
appointment, destroyed  himself.  Mr.  J.  T.  Smith, 
in  his  "  Topography  of  London,"  has  a  drawing 
of  a  room  on  the  first  floor  of  this  house.  The 
ceiling  was  covered  with  panelled  ornamentations, 
and  the  chimney-piece,  of  carved  oak  and  stone, 
was  adorned  with  a  badly-executed  basso-relievo  of 
Hercules  and  Atlas  supporting  an  egg-shaped  globe. 
Below  this  were  tablets  of  stag  hunts.  The  sides 
of  the  chimney-piece  were  formed  by  grotesque 
figures,  the  whole  being  a  very  splendid  specimen 
of  Elizabethan  decorative  art.  In  181 1  the  whole 
of  the  ornaments,  says  Mr.  Smith,  were  barbarously 
cut  away  to  render  the  room,  as  the  possessors 
said,  "a  little  comfortable."  The  Pindar  arms,  "a 
chevron  argent,  between  three  lyon's  heads,  erased 
ermine  crowned  or,"  were  found  hidden  by  a  piece 
of  tin  in  the  centre  of  the  ceiling.  Th6  walls  are 
covered  with  oak  wainscoting,  crowned  with  richly 
carved  cornices.  The  house.  No.  169,  is  now  a 
public-house,  "The  Sir  Paul  Pindar's  Head." 

"  The  front  towards  the  street,"  says  Mr.  Hugo, 
"  with  its  gable  bay  windows,  and  matchless  panel- 
work,  together  with  a  subsequent  addition  of  brick 
on  its  northern  side,  is  one  of  the  best  specimens  of 
the  period  now  extant.  The  edifice  was  commenced 
in  one  of  the  closing  years  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
on  the  return  from  his  residence  in  Italy  of  its  great 
and  good  master.  It  was  originally  very  spacious, 
and  extended  for  a  considerable  distance,  both  to  the 
south  side  and  to  the  rear  of  the  present  dwelling. 
The  adjoining  tenements  in  Half-moon  Street, 
situated  immediately  at  the  back  of  the  building, 
which  faces  Bishopsgate  Street,  though  manifesting 
no  external  signs  of  interest,  are  rich  beyond  ex- 
pression in  internal  ornament.'  The  primary 
arrangement,  indeed,  of  the  mansion  is  entirely  de- 
stroyed. Very  little  of  the  original  internal  wood- 
work remains,  and  that  of  the  plainest  character. 
But,  in  several  of  the  rooms  on  the  first  floors  of  the 
houses  just  referred  to,  there 'still  exist  some  of  the 
most  glorious  ceilings  which  our  country  can  furnish, 


They  are  generally  mutilated,  in  several  instances 
the  half  alone  remaining,  as  the  rooms  have  been 
divided  into  two  or  more  portions,  to  suit  the 
needs  of  later  generations.  These  ceilings  are  of 
plaster,  and  abound  in  the  richest  and  finest  devices. 
Wreaths  of  flowers,  panels,  shields,  pateras,  bands, 
roses,  ribands,  and  other  forms  of  ornamentation, 
are  charmingly  mingled,  and  unite  in  producing  the 
best  and  happiest  effect.  One  of  them,  which  is  all 
but  perfect,  consists  of  a  large  device  in  the  centre, 
representing  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac,  from  which  a  most 
exquisite  design  radiates  to  the  very  extremities  of 
the  room.  In  general,  however,  the  work  consists  of 
various  figures  placed  within  multangular  compart- 
ments of  different  sizes,  that  in  the  centre  of  the 
room  usually  the  largest.  The  projecting  ribs, 
which  in  their  turn  enclose  the  compartments,  are 
themselves  furnished  with  plentiful  ornamentation, 
consisting  of  bands  of  oak-leaves  and  other  vege- 
table forms ;  and,  in  several  instances,  have  fine 
pendants  at  the  points  of  intersection.  ^  The  cornices 
consist  of  a  rich  series  of  highly-ornamented  mould- 
ings. Every  part,  however,  is  in  strict  keeping,  and 
none  of  the  details  surfeit  the  taste  or  weary  the 
eye." 

At  a  little  distance,  in  Half-moon  Alley,  stood 
an  old  structure,  now  pulled  down,  ornamented 
with  figures,  which  is  traditionally  reported  to  have 
been  the  keeper's  lodge  in  the  park  attached  to 
Sir  Paul's  residence ;  and  mulberry-trees,  and  other 
park-like  vestiges  in  this  neighbourhood,  are  still 
within  memory. 

St.  Helen's,  Bishopsgate,  occupies  the  site  of 
Roman  buildings.  The  ground  in  the  neighbour- 
hood is  intersected  with  chalk  foundations,  and  in 
1836  a  Roman  tessellated  pavement  (red,  white, 
and  grey)  was  discovered  under  a  house  at  the 
south-west  angle  of  Crosby  Square.  A  similar 
pavement  was  found  in  17 12  on  the  north  side  of 
Little  St.  Helen's  gateway.  There  is  mention  of  a 
church  priory  here,  dedicated  to  the  mother  of 
Constantine,  as  early  as  1180,  when  it  was  granted 
to  -the  canons  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  by  one 
Ranulph  and  Robert  his  son.  About  12 10  a 
priory  of  Benedictine  nuns  was  founded  here  by 
WiUiam.Fitzwillam,  a  goldsmith,  and  dedicated  to 
the  Holy  Cross  and  St.  Helen.  The  priory  in- 
cluded a  hall,  hospital,  dormitories,  cloisters,  and 
offices.  The  Nuns'  Hall,  at  the  north  of  the 
present  church,  was  purchased  by  the  Leather- 
sellers'  Company,  who  used  it  as  a  common  hall 
till  1799,  when  it  was  pulled  down  to  make  room 
for  St.  Helen's  Place. 

A  crypt  extended  from  the  north  side  of  the 
cjiurch  under  L^athersellers'  Hall,  and  in  the  wall 


154 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON 


(Bishops^te. 


which  separated  this  crypt  from  the  church  were 
two  ranges  of  oblique  apertures,  through  which 
mass  at  the  high  altar  could  be  viewed.  A  cano- 
pied altar  of  stone,  affixed  to  the  wall,  indicates  the 
position  of  one  set  of  these  "  nuns'  gratings."  The 
priory  of  St.  Helen's  was  much  augmented  in  1308 
by  William  Basing,  a  London  sheriff,  and  when  it 
was  surrendered  to  Henry  VIII.  its  annual  revenue 
was  ;^376  6s.  During  the  Middle  Ages  the  church 
was  divided  from  east  to  west  by  a  partition,  to 
separate  the  nuns  from  the  parishioners ;  but  after 
the  dissolution  this  was  removed.  Sir  Thomas 
Gresham,  according  to  Stow,  promised  this  church 
a  steeple  in  consideration  of  the  ground  taken  up 
by  his  monument. 

However,  architects 
praise  this  church  as 
picturesque,  with  its 
two  heavy  equal  aisles, 
and  its  pointed  arches. 
There  is  a  transept  at 
the  east  end,  and  beyond 
it  a  small  chapel,  dedi- 
cated to  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Against  the  north  wall 
is  a  range  of  seats  for- 
merly occupied  by  the 
nuns.  The  church  is  a 
composite  of  various  pe- 
riods. St.  Helen's,  says 
Mr.  Godwin,  contains 
perhaps  more  monu- 
ments (especially  altar- 
tombs)  than  any  other 
parish  church  in  the 
metropolis,  and  these 
give  ail  especial  air  of 

antiquity  and  solemnity  to  the  building.  Here  is 
the  ugly  tomb  containing  the  embalmed  body  of 
Francis  Bancroft.  He  caused  the  tomb  to  be  built 
for  himself  in  1726.  He  is  said  to  have  made  a 
fortune  of  nearly  ;^28,ooo  by  greedy  exactions, 
the  whole  of  which  he  left  to  the  almshouses  and 
the  Drapers'  Company.  In  a  small  southern  tran- 
sept is  a  most  singular!  table  monument  in  memory 
of  Sir  Julius  Csesar,  Privy  Counsellor  to  James  I., 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and  Master  of  the 
Rolls,  who  died  about  1636.  The  epitaph,  written 
by  himself,  engraved  on  a  large  deed,  sealed  and 
folded  (the  string  to  the  seal  represented  as  break- 
ing), purports  to  be  an  engagement  on  the  part  of 
the  deceased  to  pay  the  debt  of  Nature  whenever 
God  shall  please  and  require  it.  The  tomb,  the 
work  of  Nicholas  Stone,  cost  ;^iio. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  chancel,   on  a  stone 


BISHOPSGATE, 


altar-tomb,  are  recumbent  figures  of  a  knight  in 
armour,  and  a  lady,  ■;  The  knight  is  Sir  John 
Crosby,  who  died  in  the  year  1475,  the  builder  of 
Crosby  Hall,  who  contributed  largely  to  the  church. 
Behind  this  is  a  large  columned  and  canopied 
monument  in  memory  of  Sir  William  Pickering, 
famous  for  worth  in  learning,  arts,  and  warfare.  His 
effigy  in  armour  reclines  on  a  piece  of  sculptured 
matting,  folded  at  one  end  to  represent  a  pillow. 
Strype  says  he  died  in  1542.  But  the  greatest 
of  all  the  monuments  at  St.  Helen's  is  that  of  Sir 
Thomas  Gresham,  a  large  sculptured  altar-tomb 
covered  with  a  marble  slab.  Another  curious 
monument  near  Gresham's  is    that  of   Matthew 

Bond,  captain  of  the 
London:  Trained  Bands 
■in  the  time  of  the  Ar- 
mada. He  is  repre- 
sented sitting  within  a 
tent,  with  two  sentries 
standing  outside,  and  an 
attendant  bringing  up  a 
horse.  There  were  also 
buried  here  Sir  John 
Lawrence,  the  good  Lord 
Mayor  who  behaved  so 
nobly  in  the  Plague  year, 
and  Sir  John  Spencer, 
the  rich  Lord  Mayor  of 
Elizabeth's  reign,  whose 
daughter  ran  away  with 
Lord  Compton,  escaping 
from  her  father's  house 
in  a  baker's  basket. 

The  charity- box  in 
the  church  vestibule  is 
supported  by  a  curious 
carved  figure  of  a  mendicant.  Mr.  Godwin,  writing 
in  1839,  laments  the  ill-proportioned  turret  of  St. 
Helen's,  and  the  carvings  of  the  mongrel  Italian 
style. 

The  recent  restorations  and  improvements  have 
greatly  increased  the  attractions  of  St.  Helen's,  while 
the  magnificent  stained-glass  windows,  that  have 
been  added  to  the  sacred  edifice,  are  modern  works 
eminently  worthy  of  the  objects  of  ancient  art,  and 
the  fine  sculptures  to  be  found  within  the  walls. 
Of  these  windows  one  is  in  the  memory  of  Sir 
Thomas  Gresham,  and  has  been  contributed  by 
the  Gresham  Committee,  while  two  others  have 
been  erected  at  the  expense  of  the  family  of  Mr. 
McDougall.  The  magnificent  window,  in  memory 
of  the  late  Alderman  Sir  William  Copeland,  is  a 
most  striking  work,  but  is  not  inferior  in  interest  to 
the  restoration,  which  was  made  at  the  expense  of 


Bishopsgate.] 


CROSBY  HALL. 


iSS 


the  churchwardens,^  Mr.  Thomas  Rolfe,  jun.,  and 
Mr.  George  Richardson,  of  a  beautiful  window  in 
stained  glass,  composed  of  the  fragments  of  the 
ancient  window,  which  was  too  dilapidated  to  re- 
main. Several  other  fine  memorial  windows  have 
been  added  to  the  building,  amongst  which  are  those 
contributed  by  the  vicar,  the  Rev.  J.  E.  Cox,  and 
by  Mr.  W.  Williams,  of  Great  St.  Helen's,  who  has 
taken  a  deep  interest  in  the  work  of  restoration. 
Some  other  splendid  examples  of  stained  glass  were 
contributed  by  Mr.  Alderman  Wilson  and  Mr. 
Deputy  Jones ;  and  the  fine  communion  window 
was  presented  by  Mr.  Kirkman  Hodgson,  M.P., 
and  his  brother,  Mr.  James  Stewart  Hodgson.  The 
Jomb  of  Sir  John  Crosby  has  been  renovated,  as 
well  as  that  of  Sir  John  Spencer,  which  has  been 
restored  and  removed  under  the  direction  of  the 
Marquis  of  Northampton  and  Mr.  Wodmore,  who 
has  himself  contributed  a  window  in  memory  of 
Bishop  Robinson,  and  has  superintended  the  entire 
restoration. 

"  Not  a  stone  now  remains,"  says  Mr.  Hugo,  "  to 
tell  of  the  old  priory  of  St.  Helen's  and  its  glories. 
A  view  of  the  place,  as  it  existed  at  the  close  of  the 
last  century,  which  is  happily  furnished  by  Wilkin- 
son in  his  'Londina,'  represents  the  ruins  of  edifices 
whose  main  portions  and  features  are  of  the  Early 
English  period,  and  which  were  probably  coeval  with 
the  foundation  of  the  priory.  These  he  calls  the 
'  Remains  of  the  Fratry.'  He  had  the  advantage  of 
a  personal  examination  of  these  beautiful  memorials. 
'  The  door,'  he  says,  *  leading  from  the  cloister  to 
the  Fratry,  which  the  writer  of  this  well  remembers 
to  have  seen  at  the  late  demolition  of  it,  was  parti- 
cularly elegant ;  the  mouldings  of  the  upper  part 
being  filled  with  roses  of  stone  painted  scarlet  and 
gilt ;  the  windqws  of  the  Fratiy  itself,  also,  which 
were  nearly  lancet-shaped,  were  extremely  beautiful.' 
He  also  gives  two  views  of  the  beautiful  '  crypt,' 
and  one  of  the  hall  above  it ;  the  former  of  which 
is  in  the  Early  English  style,  while  the  latter  has 
ornamental  additions  of  post-Dissolution  times.  It 
appears  by  his  plan  that  there  were  at  least  two 
'crypts,'  one  under  the  hall  and  another  to  the 
south,  under  what  would  be  called  the  withdrawing- 
room." 

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  interesting  old  City  man- 
sions in  London  is  Crosby  Hall,  now  turned  into  a 
restaurant.  It  is  one  of  the  finest  examples  of 
Gothic  domestic  architecture  of  the  Perpendicular 
period,  and  is  replete  with  historical  associations. 
It  was  built  about  1470  by  Sir  John  Crosby,  grocer 
and  woolstapler,  on  ground  leased  from  Dame 
Alice  Ashfield,  Prioress  of  the  Convent  of  St. 
Helen's.     For  the  ground,  which  had  a  frontage  of 


no  feet  in  the  "Kinge's  Strete,"  or  "Bisshoppes- 
gate  Strete,"  he  paid  ;^ii  6s.  8d.  a  year.  Stow 
says  he  built  the  house  of  stone  and  timber,  "  very 
large  and  beautiful,  and  the  highest  at  that  time  in 
London."  Sir  John,  member  of  Parliament  for 
London,  alderman,  warden  of  the  Grocers' Company, 
and  mayor  of  the  Staple  of  Elans,  was  one  of 
several  brave  citizens  knighted  by  Edward  IV.  for 
his  brave  resistance  to  the  attack  on  the  City  made 
by  that  Lancastrian  filibuster,  the  Bastard  of  Fal- 
conbridge.  Sir  John  died  in  1475,  four  or  so  years 
only  after  the  completion  of  the  building.  He  was 
buried  in  the  church  of  St.  Helen's,  where  we  have 
already  described  his  tomb.  The  effigy  is  fully 
armed,  and  the  armour  is  worn  over  the  alderman's 
mantle,  while  round  the  neck  there  is  a  collar  of 
suns  and  roses,  the  badge  of  the  House  of  York, 
to  which  that  knight  had  adhered  so  faithfully. 

In  1470  Crosby  Hall  became  a  palace,  for  the 
widow  of  Sir  John  parted  with  the  new  City  man- 
sion to  that  dark  and  wily  intriguer,  Richard,  Duke 
of  Gloucester.  "  There,"  says  Sir  Thomas  More, 
"  he  lodged  himself,  and  little  by  little  all  folks  drew 
unto  him,  so  that  the  Protector's  court  was  crowded 
and  King  Henry's  left  desolate." 

Shakespeare,  who  was  a  resident  in  St.  Helen's 
in  1598  (a  fact  proved  by  the  parish  assessments), 
has  thrice  by  name  referred,  in  his  Richard  III., 
to  this  old  City  mansion,  as  if  he  found  pleasure  in 
immortalising  a  place  familiar  to  himself.  It  was 
in  the  Council  Chamber  in  Crosby  Hall  that  the 
mayor.  Sir  Thomas  Billesde'n,  and  a  deputation  of 
citizens,  offered  Richard  the  crown. 

It  was  at  the  same  j)lace  that  Richard  persuaded 
Anne  to  await  his  return  from  the  funeral  of  the 
murdered  King  Henry : — 

Gloucester.     And  if  thy  poor  devoted  servant  may 

But  beg  one  favour  at  thy  gracious  hand, 

Thou  dost  confirm  hi?  happiness  for  ever. 
Anne.     What  is  it  ?  [designs 

Gloucester.     That  it  would  please  thee  leave  these  sad 

To  him  that  hath  more  cause  to  be  a  mourner. 

And  presently  repair  to  Crosby  House. 

Richard  III.,  Act  i.,  Scene  2. 

Other  allusions  also  occur,  as — 

Gloucester.    Are  you  now  going  to  dispatch  this  deed  ? 
\st  Murderer.     We  are,  my  lord ;  and  come  to  have  the 
warrant, 
That  we  may  be  admitted  where  he  is. 

Gloucester.     Well  thought  upon ;  I  have  it  here  about  me 

[Gives  the  warrant. 
When  you  have  done,  repair  to  Crosby  Place. 

Richard  III.,  Act  i.,  Scene  3. 

Gloucester.   Shall  we  hear  from  you,  Catesby,  ere  we  sleep  ? 
Catesby.     You  shall,  my  lord.' 
.  Gloucester.  .  At  Crosby  Hpuse  there  shall  you  find  us  both. 
Richard  III,  Act  iii.,  Scene  I. 


IS6 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Sishopsgate, 


On  the  27th  of  June,  1483,  Richard  left  Crosby 
Hall  for  his  palace  at  Westminster. 

In  1501  Sir  Bartholomew  Reed  spent  his  brilliant 
mayoralty  at  this  house  at  Crosby  Place,  and  here 
he  entertained  the  Princess  Katherine  of  Arragon 
two  days  before  her  marriage  with  Prince  Arthur, 
and  not  long  after  the  ambassadors  of  the  Em- 
peror Maximilian  when  they  came  to'  condole  with 
Henry  VII.  on  the  death  of  the  prince.  Sir  John 
Rest,    Lord   Mayor  in    1516,  was   the  next   dis- 


ing  "their  leisure  to  liberal  studies  and  profitable 
reading,  although  piety  was  their  first  care.  No 
wrangling,  no  idle  word,  was  heard  in  it ;  every  one 
did  his  duty  with  alacrity,  and  not  without  a  tem- 
perate cheerfulness."  In  1523  Sir  Thomas  More 
sold  Crosby  Hall  to  his  "  dear  friend  "  Antonio 
Bonvici,  a  merchant  of  Lucca,  the  same  person  to 
whom,  twelve  years  after,  the  chancellor  sent  an 
affecting  farewell  letter,  written  in  the  Tower  with 
a  piece  of  charcoal  the  night  before  his  execution. 


THE   "WHITK  HART,"  BISHOPSGATE  STREET,    IN    181O. 


tinguished  tenant,  at  whose  show  there  appeared 
the  grand  display  of  "four  giants,  one  unicorn, 
one  dromedary,  one  camel,  one  ass,  one  dragon, 
six  hobby-horses,  and  sixteen  naked  boys." 

Then  came  a  distinguished  tenant,  indeed,  a  man 
fit  to  stock  it  with  wisdom  for  ever,  and  to  purge  it 
of  the  old  stains  of  Richard's  crimes.  Between 
1516  and  1523,  says  the  Rev.  Thomas  Hugo, 
Crosby  Hall  was  inhabited  by  the  great  Sir  Thomas 
More,  first  Under  Treasurer,  and  afterwards  Lord 
High  Chancellor  of  England.  Here  philosophy 
and  piety  met  in  quiet  converse,  and  Erasmus  com- 
pares More's  house  to  the  Academy  of  Plato,  or 
rather  to  a  "  school  and  an  exercise  of  the  Christian 
religion ;"  all  its  inhabitants,  male  and  female,  apply- 


After  the  dissolution  of  the  Convent  of  St.  Helen 
Bonvici  purchased  Crosby  Hall  and  messuages  of 
the  king  for  ;^207  i8s.  4d.  In  1549  Bonvici  for- 
feited the  property  by  illegally  departing  the  king- 
dom, and  Henry  VIII.  granted  Crosby  Hall  to 
Lord  Darcy.  Bonvici  afterwards  returned  and 
resumed  possession.  By  him  the  mansion  was  left 
to  Germayne  CyoU,  who  had  married  a  cousjn  of 
Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  who  lived  opposite  Crosby 
House.  The  weekly  bequest  of  Cycillia  Cyoll,  wife 
of  this  same  Cyoll,  is  still  distributed  at  St.  Helen's 
Church. 

In  1566  Alderman  Bond  purchased  the  house 
for  ;^i,Soo,  and  repaired  and  enlarged  it,  building, 
it  is  said,  a  turret  on  the  roof.    The  inscription 


Bishopsgate.] 


THE  DECLINE  OF  A  GREAT  HOUSE. 


157 


on  Bond's  tomb  in  St.  Helen's  Church  describes 
him  as  a  merchant  adventurer,  and  most  famous 
in  his  age  for  his  great  adventures  by  both  sea  and 
land.  Bond  entertained  the  Spanish  ambassador 
at  Crosby  Hall,  as  his  sons  afterwards  did  the 
Danish  ambassador. 

From  the  sons  of  Alderman  Bond,  Crosby  Hall 
was  purchased,  in  1594,  by  Sir  John  Spencer,  for 
;^2,56o.  This  rich,  citizen  kept  his  mayoralty 
here  in   1594;  and  during  his  year  of  office  a 


house  afterwards  became  a  temporary  prison  for 
"  malignants,"  like  Gresham  College  and  Lambeth 
Palace. 

In  1672  the  great  hall  of  the  now  neglected 
house  was  turned  into  a  Presbyterian  chapel.  Two 
years  later  the  dwelling-houses  which  adjoined  the 
hall,  and  occupied  the  present  site  of  Crosby  Square, 
were  burnt  down,  but  the  hall  remained  uninjured. 
While  used  as  a  chapel  (till  1769),  twelve  different 
ministers  of  eminence  occupied  the  pulpit,  the  first 


CROSBY  HALL  IN   179a 


masque  was  performed  by  the  gentlemen  students 
of  Gray's  Inn  and  the  Temple,  in  the  august  pre- 
sence of  Queen  Ehzabeth.  Spencer  built  a  large 
warehouse  close  to  the  hall.  It  was  during  this 
reign  that  Crosby  House  was  for  a  time  tenanted 
by  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Pembroke,  "  Sydney's 
sister,  Pembroke's  mother "  (immortalised  by  Ben 
Jonson's  epitaph);  and  at  her  table  Shakespeare 
may  have  often  sat  as  a  welcome  guest. 

On  the  death  of  Sir  John,  in  1609,  the  house 
descended  to  his  son-in-law,  Lord  Compton,  after- 
wards Earl  of  Northampton,  but  whether  he  resided 
there  is  uncertain.  The  earl's  son  Spencer  was 
killed,  fighting  for  King  Charles,  in  1642.  The 
62— Vol.  II. 


being  Thomas  Watson,  previously  rector  of  St. 
Stephen's,  Walbrook,  and  the  author  of  the  tract, 
"  Heaven  taken  by  Storm,''  which  is  said  to  have 
been  the  means  of  the  sudden  conversion  of  the 
celebrated  Colonel  Gardiner.  In  1678  a  sale  was 
announced  at  Crosby  Hall,  of  "  tapestry,  a  good 
chariot,  and  a  black  girl  of  about  fifteen."  The 
Withdrawing-room  and  Throne-room  were  let  as 
warehouses  to  the  East  India  Company.  It  then 
was  taken  by  a  packer,  and  much  mutilated ;  and  in 
1 83 1  the  premises  were  advertised  to  be  let  upon  a 
building  lease.  It  was  greatly  owing  to  the  public 
spirit  of  Miss  Hackett,  a  lady  who  lived  near  it, 
that  this  almost  unique  exaniple  of  domestic  Gothic 


158 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Bishopsgste. 


architecture  was  ultimately  preserved.  In  183 1  this 
lady  made  strenuous  efforts  for  its  conservation, 
and  received  valuable  assistance  from  Mr.  W. 
Williams,  of  Great  St.  Helen's,  and  other  residents. 
In  1836  it  was  reinstated  and  partially  restored  by 
public  subscription,  after  which  it  was  re-opened 
by  the  Lord  Mayor,  W.  T.  Copeland,  Esq.,  M.P., 
a  banquet  in  the  old  EngHsh  style  being  held  on 
the  occasion.,  From  1843  to  i860  Crosby  Hall 
was  occupied  by  a  literary  and  scientific  institute. 
It  has  since  been  converted  into  a  restaurant. 

It  is  conjectured  that  this  fine  old  house  was 
originally  composed  of  two  quadrangles,  separated 
by  the  Great  Hall,  a  noble  room  forty  feet  high. 


The  oriel  of  the  hall  is  one  of  the  finest  specimens 
remaining;   the   timber  roof  is  one  of  the   most 
glorious  which  England  possesses.     The  Throne- 
room  and  Council-room  have  suffered  much.     A 
fine  oriel  in  one  of  these  has  been  removed  to  Buck- 
inghamshire, and  both  ceilings  have  been  carried 
off.     No  original  entrance  to  the  hall  now  remains, 
except  a  flat  arched  doorway  communicating  with 
the   Council-chamber.     The   mairt  entrance,   Mr. 
Hugo   thinks,  was  no  doubt  under  the  minstrel's 
gallery,  at  the  south  end.      In  the  centre  of  the 
oriel  ceiling  is  still  to  be  seen,  in  high  relief,  the 
crest  of  Sir  John  Crosby — a  ram  trippant,  argent, 
armed  and  hoofed,  or. 


CHAPTER    XXL 
BISHOPSGATE   (continued). 

Old  Houses  and  Architectural  Relics— St.  Botolph's  Church  and  its  Records— St.  Ethelburga-Sir  Thomas  Gresham's  House— Gresham  College- 
Sir  Kenelm  Digby— The  New  College— Jews'  Synagogue  in  Great  St.  Helen's— The  Leathersellers'  Hall— The  "Bull"  Inn— Burbage— 
Hobson  — Milton's  Epitaph— Teasel  Close  and  the  Trained  Bands— Devonshire  Square  —  Fisher's  "  Folly "— Houndsditch  audits 
Inhabitants— The  Old-Clothes  Men— Hand  Alley- Bevis  Maries— The  Papey— Old  Broad  Street— The  Excise  Office— .Sir  Astley  Cooper— A 
Roman  Pavement  Discovered— St.  Peter-le-Poer— Austin  Friars— Winchester  House— AUhallows-in-the-Wall— London  Wall— Sion  College 


The  Ward  of  Bishopsgate  having  partially  escaped 
the  Great  Fire,  is  still  especially  rich  in  old- houses. 
In  most  cases  the  gable  ends'  have  been  removed, 
and,  in  many,  walls  have  been  built  in  front  of  the 
ground  floors  up  to  the  projecting  storeys;  but 
frequently  the  backs  of  the  houses  present  "their 
original  structure.  Mr.  Hugo,  t^riting  in  the  year 
1857,  has  described  nearly  all  places  of  interest; 
but  many  of  these  have  since  been  modified  or 
pulled  down.  The  houses  Nos.  81  to  85  inclusive, 
in  Bishopsgate  Street  Without,  .were  Elizabethan. 
On  the  front  of  one  of  these  the  date,  1590,  was 
formerly  visible.  *'  In  Artillery  Lane  the  same  anti- 
quary found  houses  which,  at  the  back,  preserved 
their  Elizabethan  character.  In  No.  19,  Widegate 
Street,  there  was  a  fine  ceiling  of  the  time  of 
Charles  I.  The  houses  adjoining  Sir  Paul  Pindar's, 
numbered  170  and  171,  possessed  ceilings  of  a 
noble  character,  and  had  probably  formed  part 
of  Sir  Paul  Pindar's.  The  lodge  in  Half-moon 
Street,  now  destroyed,  had  a  most  noble  chimney- 
piece,  probably  executed  by  Inigo  Jones,  besides 
wainscoted  walls  and  rich  ceilings.  No.  26,  Bishops- 
gate Street  Without  possessed  two  splendid  back 
rooms,  with  decorations  in  the  style  of  Louis  XIV., 
full  of  flowing  lines.  In  Still  Alley,  in  1857,  there 
were  several  Elizabethan  houses,  since  modernised. 
White  Hart  Court  (though  the  old  inn  was  gone 
before)  boasted  a  row  of  four  houses,  of  beautiful 
design,  in  the  Inigo  Jones  manner. 

In  the  house  No.  18,  at  Ihe  corner  of  Devon- 


shire Street,  Mr.  Hugo  discovered,  as  he  imagined, 
a  portion  of  the  Earl  of  Devonshire's  house,  or  that 
of  Lord  John  Powlet.  It  was  of  the  Elizabethan 
age,  and  one  room  contained  a  rich  cornice  of 
masks,  fruit,  and  leaves,  connected  by  ribands. 
In  another  there  were,  over  the  fireplace,  the  arms 
of  Henry  Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southampton,  and 
Shakespeare's  friend,  At  the  corner  of  Hounds- 
ditch,  No.  8,  Bishopsgate  Street  Without,  there 
was  an  EUzabethan  house,  and  at  the  opposite 
comer.  No.  7,  was  a  house  with  fine  staircases,  and 
walls  and  ceilings  profusely  decorated  a  la  Louis 
Quatorze.  Just  beyond,  a  tablet,  surmounted  with 
the  figure  of  a  mitre  inserted  in  the  wall,  a  little 
north  of  Camomile  Street,  marks  the  site  of  the  old 
Bishops'  Gate. 

At  66,  Bishopsgate  Street  Within,  there  was  a 
finely-groined  undercroft,  of  the  fourteenth  century. 
At  the  end  of  Pea  Hen  Court,  Mr.  Hugo,  in  his 
antiquarian  tour  of  1857,  records  a  doorway  of 
James  I.  In  Great  St.  Helen's  Place,  the  same 
anriquary  found,  at  No.  2,  a  good  doorway  and 
staircase  of  Charles  I. ;  and  at  Nos.  3  and  4,  some 
Elizabethan  relics.  Nos.  8  and  9  he  pronounced  to 
be  modern  subdivisions  of  a  superb  house.  On  the 
front  was  the  date,  1646.  It  was  of  brick,  orna- 
mented with  pilasters,  and  contained  a  matchless 
staircase  and  a  fine  chimney-piece.  Nos.  1 1  and 
12,  Great  St.  Helen's,  Mr.  Hugo  noted  as  a  red 
brick  house,  with  pilasters  of  the  same  material. 
The   simple  but  artistic  doorways  he  had  little 


filshopsgate.] 


ST.   BOTOLPH,  BISHOPSGATE. 


15^ 


hesitation  in  attributing  to  Inigo  Jones :  he  sup- 
posed them  to  have  been  erected  about  1633,  the 
year  Inigo  designed  the  south  entrance  of  St. 
Helen's  Church. 

At  No.  3,  Crosby  Square,  Mr.  Hugo  found  a  fine 
doorway  {temp.  Charles  II.),  in  the  style  of  Wren. 
This  square  was  built  in  1677,  on  the  site  of  part  of 
Crosby  Hall.  At  Crosby  Hall  Chambers,  No.  25, 
Bishopsgate  Street  Within,  the  street  front  had  lost 
all  ancient  peculiarities,except  two  beautiful  festoons 
of  flqwers  inserted  be- 
tween the  windows  of  the 
first  and  second  floors. 

The  church  of  St. 
Botolph,  Bishopsgate, 
stands  on  the  banks  of 
the  City  Ditch,  and  was 
rebuilt  in  1725-28  by 
James  Gold,  an  architect 
otherwise  unknown.  It 
contains  a  monument  to 
the  good  and  illustrious 
Sir  Paul  Pindar.  The  in- 
scription describes  him 
as  nine  years  resident  in 
Turkey,  faithful  in  nego- 
tiations foreign  and  do- 
mestic, eminent  for  piety, 
charity,  loyalty,  and  pru- 
dence ;  an  inhabitant 
twenty -six  years,  and  a 
bountiful  benefactor  to 
the  parish,  Sir  Paul 
having  leftgreat  bequests 
to  London  hospitals  and 
other  institutions.  There 
is  also  a  tomb, date  1626, 
of  a  Persian  ambassador. 
His  friends  came  every 
day  for  weeks  to  his 
grave,  to  perform  their 
devotions,  till  disturbed 

by  the  mob.     The  churchyard  of  St.  Botolph's  is 
adorned  with  a  pretty  Httle  fountain. 

The  registers  of  the  church  (says  Cunninghami) 
record  the  baptism  of  Edward  AUeyn,  the  player 
(bom  1566);  the  marriage,  in  1609,  of  Archibald 
Campbell,  Earl  of  Argyll,  to  Ann  Comwallis, 
daughter  of  Sir  William  Comwallis ;  and  the  burials 
of  the  following  persons  of  distinction: — 1570, 
Sept.  13,  Edward  Allein,poete  to  the  Queene;  1623, 
Feb.  17,  Stephen  Gosson,  rector  of  this  church,  and 
author  of  "  The  School  of  Abuse ;  containing  a 
pleasant  invective  against  Poets,  Pipers,  Plaiers, 
Jesters,  and  such-like  Cateroillara  nf  ^  r-^. 


wealth,"  4to,  1579 ;  1628,  June  21,  William,  Earl 
of  Devonshire  (from  whom  Devonshire  Square, 
adjoining,  derives  its  name) ;  1691,  John  Riley,  the 
painter. 

St.  Ethelburga,  a  church  a  litde  beyond  St. 
Helen's,  half  hidden  with  shops,  escaped  the  Great 
Fire,  and  still  retains  some  Early  English  masonry. 
It  was  named  from  the  daughter  of  King  Ethelbert, 
and  is  mentioned  as  early  as  the  year  1366;  the 
advowson  was  vested  in  the  prioress  and  nuns  of 

St.  Helen's,  and  so  con- 
tinued till  the  dissolu- 
tion. One  of  Dryden's 
rivals,  Luke  Milbourne, 
was  minister  of  this 
church.  Pope  calls  him 
"  the  fairest  of  critics,'' 
because  he  exhibited  his 
own  translation  of  Virgil 
to  be  compared  with  that 
which  he  condemned. 

The  General  Post 
Office,  at  first  fixed  at 
Sherborne  Lane,  was 
next  removed  to  Cloak 
Lane,Dowgate,  and  then, 
till  the  Great  Fire,  to  the 
Black  Swan,  Bishopsgate 
Street. 

One  of  the  glories  of 
old  Bishopsgate  was  the 
mansion  built  there  by 
Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  in 
1563.  It  consisted  (says. 
Mr.  Burgon,  his  best 
biographer)  of  a  square 
court,  surrounded  by  a 
covered  piazza,  and  had 
spacious  offices  adjoin- 
ing. It  was  girdled  by 
pleasant  gardens,  and 
extended  from  Bishops- 
gate Street,  on  the  one  side,  to  Broad  Street  on 
the  other.  The  first  plan  of  the  college  which 
afterwards  occupied  this  house  was  to  have  seven 
professors,  who  should  lecture  once  a  week  in  suc- 
cession on  divinity,  astronomy,  music,  geometry, 
law,  medicine,  and  rhetoric.  Their  salaries,  de- 
frayed by  the  profits  of  the  Royal  Exchange, 
were  to  be  ;£^So  per  annum,  a  sum  equal  to  ;£^4oo 
or  ;^Soo  at  the  present  day.  To  the  library  of 
this  college  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  presented  two  thousand 
volumes  from  his  family  library.  From  the  meet- 
ings of  scientific  men  at  these  lectures  the  Royal 


STREET  FRONT  OF  CROSBY  HALL. 


i6o 


*OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Bishopsgatfc 


Society  originated,  and  was  incorporated  in  1663 
by  Charles  II.  Tlie  society  afterwards  removed 
to  Arundel  House,  in  the  Strand.  The  Gresham 
College  Lectures ,  were  commenced  in  1597,  the 
year  after  Lady  Gresham's  death,  when  the  house 
became  free.  They  were  read  in  term-time,  every 
day  but  Sunday,  in  Latin,  at  nine  a.m.,  and  in 
English  at  two  p.m. 

Aubrey  mentions  that  that  strange  being,  Sir 
Kenelm  Digby,  admiral,  philosopher,  and  doctor, 
after  the  death  of  his  beautiful  wife,  retired  into 
Gresham  College  for  two  or  three  years,  to  avoid 
envy  and  scandal.  He  diverted  himself  with  his 
chemistry,  and  the  professors'  learned  talk.  He 
wore,  says  the  gossip,  a  long  morning  cloak,  a  high- 
crowned  hat,  and  he  kept  his  beard  unshorn,  and 
looked  like  a  hermit,  as  signs  of  sorrow  for  his 
beloved  wife,  whom  he  was  supposed  to  have 
poisoned  by  accident,  by  giving  her  vipers'  flesh  in 
broth,  to  heighten  her  beauty.  In  Johnson's  time 
the  attendance  at  the  lectures  had  dwindled  to 
nothing,  and  we  find  the  terrible  doctor  telling 
Boswell,  that  ready  listener,  that  if  the  professors 
had  been  allowed  .to  take  only  sixpence  a  lecture 
from  each  scholar,  they  would  have  been  "  emulous 
to  have  had  many  scholars."  Gresham  College 
was  taken  down  in  1768,  the  ground  on  which 
it  stood  made  over  to  the  Crown  for  a  perpetual 
rent  of  ;^5oo  per  annum,  the  lectures  being  read 
in  a  room  above  the  Royal"  Exchange.  A  new 
college  was  subsequently  erected  in  Gresham  Street, 
and  the  first  lecture  read  in  it  November  2,  1843. 
The  music  and  other  practical  lectures  are  still 
well  attended,  but  the  Latin  lectures  are  often 
adjourned,  from  there  being  no  audience. 

The  new  college,  at  the  corner  of  Basinghall  Street, 
is  a  handsome  stone  edifice,  designed  by  George 
Smith.  It  is  in  the  enriched  Roman  style,  and  has 
a  Corinthian  entrance  portico.  Over  the  entrance 
are  the  arms  of  Greshamj  the  City  of  London,  and 
the  Mercers'  Company,  in  the  last  of  which  a  demi- 
virgin,  with  dishevelled  hair,  is  modestly  con- 
spicuous. The  interior  contains  a  large  library  and 
professors'  rooms,  and  on  the  first  floor  a  theatre,  to 
hold  500  persons.  The  building  cost  upwards  of 
;^7,ooo.,  The  professors'  salaries  have  been  raised, 
to  compensate  them  for  their  rooms  in  the  old 
college.  In  Vertue's  print,  in  Ward's  "Lives  of 
the  Gresham  Professors,"  1740,  Dr.  Woodward  and 
Dr.  Mead,  Gresham  professors,  are  represented  as 
drawing  swords.  This  refers  to  an  actual  quarrel 
between  the  two  men,  when  Mead  obtained  the 
advantage,  and  commanded  Woodward  to  beg  his 
life.  "  No,  doctor,"  said  the  vanquished  man,  "  that 
I  will  not,  till  I  am  your  patient."    But  he  never- 


theless at  last  tvisely  yielded,  and  Vertue  has  repre- 
sented him  tendering  his  sword  to  his  conqueror. 

One  of  the  largest  of  the  Jews'  synagogues  in 
London  was  built  by  Davies,  in  1838,  in  Great  St. 
Helen's,  Bishopsgate.     It  is  in  rich  Italian  style, 
with  an  open  loggia  of  three  arches,  resting  upon 
Tuscan  columns.     The  sides  have  Doric  piers,  and 
Corinthian  columns  above,  behind  which  are  the 
ladies'   galleries,    in   the  Oriental  manner  of  the 
Jews,  fronted  with  rich  brass-work.     There  are  no 
pews.     The  centre  floor  has  a  platform,  and  seats 
for  the  principal  officers,  with  four  large  brass-gilt 
candelabra.     At  the  south  end  is  "  the  ark,"  a  lofty 
semicircular-domed   recess,    consisting    of  Italian- 
Doric  pilasters,   with   verde  antico   and  porphyry 
shafts,  and  gilt  capitals;  and  Corinthian  columns 
with  sienna  shafts,  and  capitals  and  entablature  in 
white  and  gold.     In  the  upper   storey  the  inter- 
columns  are  filled  with  three  arched  windows  of 
stained   glass,  arabesque   pattern,   by  Nixon,  the 
centre  one  having  "  Jehovah,"  in  Hebrew,  and  the 
tables  of  the  Law.     The  semi-dome  is  decorated 
with   gilded   rosettes,  on  an   azure  ground ;  there 
are  rich  festoons  of  fruit  and  flowers  between  the 
capitals  of  the  Corinthian  columns,  and  ornaments 
on   the  frieze  above,    on   which   is    inscribed  in 
Hebrew,  "  Know  in  whose  presence  thou  standest." 
The  centre  of  the  lower  part  is  fitted  up  with  re- 
cesses for  books  of  the  Law,  enclosed  with  polished 
mahogany  doors,  and  partly  concealed  by  a  rich 
velvet  curtain,  fringed  with  gold  ;  there  are  massive 
gilt  candelabra,  and  the  pavement  and  steps  to  the 
ark  are  of  fine  veined  Italian  marble,  partly  car- 
peted.     Externally,  the   ark    is  flanked  with  an 
arched  panel,  that  on  the  east  containing  a  prayer 
for  the  Queen  and  Royal  Family  in  Hebrew,  and 
the  other  a  similar  one  in  English.     Above  the  ark 
is  a  rich  fan-painted  window,  and  a  corresponding 
one,  though  less  brilliant,  at  the  north  end.    The 
ceiling,  which  is    flat,    is    decorated   with   thirty 
cofiers,  each  containing  a  large  flower  aperturo,  for 
ventilation.     This  synagogue  appears  to  have  been 
removed  from  Leadenhall  Street. 

Leathersellers'  Hall,  at  the  east  end  of  St.  Helen's 
Place,  was  rebuilt  about  181 5,  on  the  site  of  the 
old  hall,  which  had  formed  part  of  the  house  of  flie 
Black  Nuns  of  St.  Helen's,  taken  .down  in  1799. 
The  original  site  had  been  purchased  by  the  Com- 
pany soon  after  the  surrender  of  the  priory  to 
Henry  VIII.  The  old  hall  contained  a  curiously- 
carved  Elizabethan  screen,  and  an  enriched  ceiling, 
with  pendants.  Beneath  the  present,  hall  runs  the 
crypt  of  the  Priory  of  St.  Helen's,  which  we  have 
already  described.  In  the  yard  belonging  to  the 
hall  is  a  curious  pump,  with  a  mermaid  pressing 


J^UhopsgateO 


The  old  ciT^  traiKed  band. 


i6i 


her  breasts,  out  of  which,  on  festive  occasions,  wine 
u§ed  formerly  to  run.  It  was  made  by  Caius 
Gabriel  Gibber,  in  1679,  as  payment  to  the  Com- 
pany of  his  livery  fine  of  ^2^.  The  Leather- 
sellers  were  incorporated  by  the  21st  of  Richard  II., 
and  by  a  grant  of  Henry  VII.  the  wardens  were 
empowered  to  inspect  sheep,  lamb,  and  calf  leather 
throughout  the  kingdom. 

It  was  at  the  "Bull"  Inn,  Bishopsgate  Street, 
that  Shakespeare's  friend,  Burbage,  and  his  fellows, 
obtained  a  patent  from  Queen  EHzabeth  for  erecting 
a  permanent  building  for  theatrical  entertainments. 
Tarlton,  the  comedian,  often  played  here.  The 
old  inns  of  London  were  the  first  theatres,  as  we 
have  before  shown.  Anthony  Bacon  (the  brother 
of  the  great  Francis),  resided  in  a  house  in  Bishops- 
gate  Street,  not  far  from  the  "Bull"  Inn,  to  the 
great  concern  of  his  watchful  mother,  who  not  only 
dreaded  that  the  plays  and  interludes  acted  at  the 
"  Bull"  might  corrupt  his  servants,  but  also  objected 
on  her  own  son's  account  to  the  parish,  as  being 
without  a  godly  clergyman.  The  "  Four  Swans," 
just  pulled  dowii,  was  another  fine  old  Bishopsgate 
inn,  with  galleries  complete.  It  was  at  the  "  Bull " 
that  Hobson,  the  old  Cambridge  carrier  eulogised  by 
Milton,  put  up.  The  Spectator  says  that  there  was 
a  fresco  figure  of  him  on  the  inn  walls,  with  a 
hundred-pound  bag  under  his  arm,  with  this  in- 
scription on  the  said  bag — 

"  The  fruitful  mother  of  an  hundred  more." 
Milton's  lines  on  this  sturdy  old  driver .  are  full  of 
kindly  regret,  and  are  worth  remembering — 

"  On  the  University  Carrier,  who  sickened  in  the  time  of  the 
Vacancy,  being  forbid  to  go  to  London,  by  reason  of 
the  Plague. 
"  Here  lies  old  Hobson ;  Death  hath  broke  his  girt, 
And  here,  alas  !  hath  laid  him  in  the  dirt ; 
Or  else,  the  ways  being  foul,  twenty  to  one, 
He's  here  stuck  in  a  slough,  and  overthrown. 
'Twas  such  a  shifter,  that  if  truth  were  known, 
Death  was  half  glad  when  he  had  got  him  down ; 
For  he  had,  any  time  these  ten  years  full, 
Dodg'd  with  him,  betwixt  Cambridge  and  the  'Bull ;' 
And  surely  Death  could  never  have  prevail'd, 
Had  not  his  weekly  course  of  carriage  fail'd ; 
But  lately  finding  him  so  long  at  home, 

■  And  thinking  now  his  journey's  end  was  come. 
And  that  he  had  ta'en  up  his  latest  inn, 
In  the  kind  office  of  a  chamberlain, 
Show'd  him  his  room,  where  he  must  lodge  that  night, 

.  PuE'd  oif  his  boots,  and  took  away  the  light ; 

,If  any  ask  for  him,  it  shall  be  said, 
'  Hobson  has  supt,  and 's  newly  gone  to  bed.' " 

The  original  portrait  and  parchment  certificate 
of  Mr.  Van  Ham,  a  frequenter  of  the  house,  were 
long  preserved  at  the  "  Bull "  Inn.  This  worthy  is 
said  to  have  drank  35,680  bottles  of  wine  in  this 


hostelry.     In  1649  five  Puritan  troopers  were  sen- 
tenced to- death  for  a  mutiny  at  the  "  Bull." 

The  first,  Bethlehem  Hospital  was  originally  a 
priory  of  capons,  with  brothers  and  sisters,  formed 
in  1246,  in  Bishopsgate' Without,  by  Simon  Fitz 
Mary,  «.  London  sheriff.  Henry  VIII.,  at  the 
dissolution,  gave  it  to  the  City  of  London,  who 
turned  it  into -an  hospital  for  the  insane.  Stow 
speaks  vaguely  of  an  insane  hospital  near  Charing 
Cross,  removed  by  a  king  of  England,  who  objected 
to  mad  people  near  his  palace.  The  hospital  was 
removed  from  Bishopsgate  to  Moorfields,  in  1675, 
at  a  co^  of  "nigh  ;!£'i7,ooo." 

The  first  Artillery  Ground  was  in  Teasel  Close, 
now  Artillery  Lane,  Bishopsgate  Street  Without. 
Stow  describes  Teasel  Close  as  a  place  where  teasels 
(the  tasal  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  Dipsacus  fullonum,  01 
fullers'  teasel  of  naturalists)  were  planted  for  the 
clothworkers,  afterwards  let  to  the  cross-bow  makers, 
to  shoot  matches  at  the  popinjay.  It  was  in  his  day 
closed  in  with  a  brick  wall,  and  used  as  an  artillery 
yard;  and  there  the  Tower  gunners  came  every 
Thursday,  to  practise  their  exercise,  firing  their 
"  brass  pieces  of  great  artillery "  at  earthen  butts. 
The  Trained  Bands  removed  to  Finsbury  in  1622. 

Teasel  Close  was  the  practice-ground  of  the  old 
City  Trained  Band,  established  in  1585,  during  the 
alarm  of  the  expected  Spanish  Armada.  "  Certain 
gallant,  active,  and  forward  citizens,"  says  Stow, 
"voluntarily  exercising  themselves  for  the  ready 
use  of  war,  so  as  within  two  years  there  was  almost 
300  merchants,  and  others  of  like  quality,  very  suf- 
ficient and  skilful  to  train  and  teach  the  common 
soldiers."  The  alarm  subsiding,  the  City  volunteers 
again  gave  way  to  the  grave  gunners  of  the  Tower, 
warriors  as  guiltless  of  blood  as  themselves.  In 
1 610,  martial  ardour  again  rising,  a  new  company 
was  formed,  and  weekly  drill  practised  with  re- 
newed energy.  Many  country  gentlemen  from  the 
shires  used  to  attend  the  drills,  to '  learn  how  to 
command  the  country  Trained  Bands.  In  the  Civil 
Wars,  especially  at  the  battle  of  Newbury,  these 
London  Trained  Bands  fought  with  firmness  and 
courage.  Lord  Clarendon  is  even  proud  to  confess 
this.  "The  London  Trained  Bands,''  he  says, 
"  and  auxihary  regiments  (of  whose  inexperience  of 
danger,  or  any  kind  of  service  beyond  the  easy 
practice  of  their  postures  in  thq  Artillery  Garden, 
men  had  till  then  too  cheap  in  estimation)  behaved 
themselves  to  wonder,  and  were  in  truth  the  pre- 
servation of  that  army  that  day.  For  they  stood  as 
a  bulwark  and  rampire  to  defend  the  rest;  and 
when  their  wings  of  horse  were  scattered  and  dis- 
persed, kept  their  ground  so  steadily,  that  though 
Prince  Rupert  himself  led  up  the  choice  horse  to 


l62 


.OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


CSislio^gafee. 


charge  them,  and  endured  their  storm  of  small 
shot,  he  could  make  no  impression  upon  their 
stand  of  pikes,  but  was  forced  to  wheel  about ;  of 
so  sovereign  benefit  and  use  is  that  readiness, 
order,  and  dexterity  in  the  use  of  their  arms, 
v^hich  hath  been  so  much  neglected." 


Lord  High  Chamberlain  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  took 
.it.  The  Queen  lodged  here  during  one  of  her 
visits  to  the  City,  and  here  probably  the  Earl  pre- 
sented his  royal  mistress  with  the  first  pair  of  per- 
fumed gloves  brought  to  England.  The  mansion 
afterwards  fell  to  the  noble  family  of  Cavendish, 


ST.   ETHELBURGA'S   CHURCH, 


Devonshire  Square,  a  humble  place  now,  was 
origmally  the  site  of  a  large  house  with  pleasure- 
gardens,  bowhng-greens,  &c.,  built  and  laid  out  by 
Jasper  Fisher,  one  of  the  six  clerks  in  Chancery  a 
Justice  of  the  Peace,  and  a  freeman  of  the  Gold- 
smiths' Company.  The  house  being  considered 
far  too_  splendid  for  a  mere  clerk  in  Chancery, 
much  m  debt,  was  nicknamed  "Fisher's  Folly' 
After  Fisher's  downfall,  Edward,  Earl  of  Oxford' 


William  Cavendish,  the  second  Earl  of  Devonshire, 
dymg  in  it  about  the  year  1628.  The  family  of 
Cavendish  appear  to  have  been  old  Bishopsgate 
residents,  as  Thomas  Cavendish,  Treasurer  of  the 
Exchequer  to  Henry  VHL,  buried  his  lady  in 
bt.  Botolph's  Church,  and  by  will  bequeathed  a 
legacy  for  the  repair  of  the  building.  The  Earls  of 
Devonshire  held  the  house  from  1620  to  1670,  but 
during  the  Civil  Wars,  when  the  sour-faced  preachers 


I)islibp5q;B.te,  ] 


HOUNDSDITCH. 


163 


were  all-powerful,  the  earl's  City  mansion  became 
a  conventicle,  and  resounded  with  the  unctuous 
groans  of  the  crop-eared  listeners.  Butler,  in  his 
"  Hudibras,"  says  the  Rump  Parliament  resembled 
"  No  part  of  the  nation 
But  Fisher's  Folly  congregation." 

About  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  when 
the  Penny  Post  was  started,  one  of  the  inventors, 
Mr.  Robert  Murray,  clerk  to  the  Commissioners 
of  the  Grand  Excise  of  England,  set  up  a  Bank  of 
Credit  at  Devonshire  House,  where  men  depositing 
their  goods  and  merchandise  were  furnished  with 


in  London — the  Danish  king  cried,  "  I  like  the 
treason,  but  detest  the  traitor.  Behead  this  fellow, 
and  as  he  claims  the  promise,  place  his  head  on 
the  highest  pinnacle  of  the  Tower."  Edric  was 
then  drawn  by  his  heels  from  Baynard's  Castle, 
tormented  to  death  by  burning  torches,  his  head 
placed  on  the  turret,  and  his  scorched  body  thrown 
into  Houndsditch. 

Stow  speaks  of  the  old  City  ditch  as  a  filthy 
place,  full  of  dead  dogs,  but  before  his  time  covered 
over  and  enclosed  by  a  mud  wall.  On  the  side  of 
the  ditch  over  against  this  mud  wall  was  a  field  at 


SIR  THOMAS   GRESHAMS   HOUSE   IN   BISHOPSGATE  STREET. 


bills  of  current  credit  at  two-thirds  or  three-fourths 
of  the  value  of  the  said  goods. 

Hatton,  in  1708,  calls  the  square  "a  pretty 
though  very  small  square,  inhabited  by  gentry  and 
other  merchants  ;"  and  Strype  describes  it  as  "an 
airy  and  creditable  place,  where  the  Countess  of 
Devonshire,  in  my  memory,  dwelt  in  great  repute 
for  her  hospitality." 

Houndsditch,  which  may  be  called  an  indirect 
tributary  of  Bishopsgate,  though  not  a  dignified 
place,  has  a  legend  of  its  own.  Richard  of 
Cirencester  says  that  here  the  body  of  Edric,  the 
murderer  of  his  sovereign  Edmund  Ironside,  was 
contemptuously  thrown  by  Canute,  whom  he  had 
raised  to  the  throne.  When  Edric,  flushed  with 
his  guilty 'success,  came  to  claim  of  Canute  the 
promised  reward  of  his  crime — the  highest  situation 


one  time  belonging  to  the  Priory  of  the  Holy 
Trinity,  which  being  given,  at  the  dissolution,  to 
Sir  Thomas  Audly,  was  handed  over  by  him  to 
Magdalen  College,  Cambridge,  of  which  he  was  the 
founder. 

Brokers  and  sellers  of  disconsolate  cast-oiF  apparel 
took  kindly  to  this  place  immediately  after  the 
Reformation,  settling  in  this  field  of  the  priory; 
while  the  old  dramatists  frequently  allude  to  the  Jew 
brokers  and  usurers  of  this  district,  of  the  "  melan- 
choly "  of  which  Shakespeare  has  spoken.  "  Where 
got'st  thou  this  coat,  I  marie  ?"  says  Well-bred  in 
Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his  Humour;  to 
which  Brainworm  answers,  "Of  a  Houndsditch 
man,  sir;  one  of  the  devil's  near  kinsmen,  a  broker." 
And  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  call  the  place  con- 
temptuously Dogsditch : — 


i64 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[fiishopsgate. 


"  More  knavery,  and  usury, 
And  foolery,  and  brokery  than  Dogsditch. " 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  three  brothers 
named  Owens  set  up  in  this  field  a  foundry  for  brass 
ordnance,  and  the  rest  of  the  place  was  turned 
into  garden  ground.  At  the  end  of  the  reign  of 
Edward  VI.  pleasant  houses  for  respectable  citizens 
began  to  be  erected. 

"This  field,"  says  Stow,  "as  all  others  about  the 
City,  was  enclosed,  reserving  open  passage  there- 
into for  such  as  were  disposed.  Towards  the  street 
were  some  small  cottages  of  two  storeys  high,  and 
little  garden  plots,  backward,  for  poor  bedrid  people 
(for  in  that  street  dwelt  none  other),  builded  by 
some  Prior  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  to  whom  that 
ground  belonged. 

"In  my  youth  I  remember  devout,  people,  as 
well  men  as  women  of  this  City,  were  accustomed 
oftentimes,  especially  on  Fridays  weekly,  to  walk 
that  way  purposely,  and  there  to  bestow  their  chari- 
table alms,  every  poor  man  or  woman  laying  in  their 
bed  within  their  window,  which  was  towards  the 
street,  open  so  low  that  every  man  might  see  them ; 
a  clean  linen  cloth  lying  in  their  window,  and  a 
pair  of  beads,  to  show  that  there  lay  a  bedrid  body, 
unable  but  to  pray  only.  This  street  was  first 
paved  in  the  year  1503." 

The  favourite  localities  of  the  Jew  old-clothesmen 
were  Cobb's  Yard,  Roper's  Buildings,  and  Went- 
worth  Street. 

"  The  Jew  old-clothesmen,"  'says  Mr.  Mayhew, 
"  are  generally  far  more  cleanly  in  their  habits  than 
the  poorer  classes  of  English  people.  Their  hands 
they  always  wash  before  their  meals,  and  this  is 
done  whether  the  party  be  a  strict  Jew  or  '  Meshu- 
met,'  a  convert  or  apostate  from  Judaism.  Neither 
will  the  Israelite  ever  use  the  same  knife  to  cut  his 
meat  that  he  previously  used  to  spread  his  butter, 
and  he  will  not  even  put  his  meat  upon  a  plate 
that  has  had  butter  on  it ;  nor  will  he  use  for  his 
soup  the  spoon  that  has  had  melted  butter  in  it. 
This  objection  to  mix  butter  with  meat  is  carried 
so  far,  that,  after  partaking  of  the  one,  Jews  will 
not  eat  of  the  other  for  two  hours.  The  Jews  are, 
generally,  when  married,  most  exemplary  family 
men.  There  are  few  fonder  fathers  than  they  are, 
and  they  will  starve  themselves  sooner  than  their 
wives  or  children  should  want.  Whatever  their 
faults  may  be,  they  are  good  fathers,  husbands,  and 
sons.  Their  principal  characteristic  is  their  extreme 
love  of  money;  and,  thaugh  the  strict  Jew  does 
not  trade  himself  on  the  Sabbath,  he  may  not 
object  to  employ  either  one  of  his  tribe,  orapcntile 
to  do  so  for  him. 

"  The  capital  required  for  commencing  in  the  old 


clothes  line  is  generally  about  ^i.  This  the  Jew 
frequently  borrows,  especially  after  holiday  time, 
for  then  he  has  generally  spent  all  his  earnings, 
unless  he  be  a  provident  man.  When  his  stock- 
money  is  exhausted,  he  goes  either  to  a  neighbour 
or  to  a  publican  in  the  vicinity,  and  borrows  j£i 
on  the  Monday  morning,  'to  strike  a  light  with,' 
as  he  calls  it,  and  agrees  to  return  it  on  the  Friday 
evening,  with  a  shilling  interest  for  the  loan.  This 
he  always  pays  back.  If  he  were  to  sell  the  coat 
off  his  back  he  would  do  this,  I  am  told,  because 
to  fail  in  so  doing  would  be  to  prevent  his  obtaining 
any  stock-money  in  the  future.  With  this  capital 
he  starts  on  his  rounds  about  eight  in  the  morning, 
and  I  am  assured  he  will  frequently  begin  his  work 
without  tasting  food  rather  than  break  into  the 
borrowed  stock-money.  Each  man  has  his  par- 
ticular walk,  and  never  interferes  with  that  of  his 
neighbour ;  indeed,  while  upon  another's  beat,  he 
will  seldom  cry  for  clothes.  Sometimes  they  go 
half  '  rybeck '  together — that  is, ,  they  will  share 
the  profits  of  the  day's  business ;  and  when  they 
agree  to  do  this,  the  one  will  take  one  street,  and 
the  other  another.  The  lower  the  neighbourhood 
the  more  old  clothes  are  there  for  sale.  At  the 
East-end  of  the  town  they  like  the  neighbourhoods 
frequented  by  sailors ;  and  there  they  purchase  of 
the  girls  and  the  women  the  sailors'  jackets  and 
trousers.  But  they  buy  most  of  the  Petticoat 
Lane,  the  Old  Clothes  Exchange,  and  the  marine- 
store  dealers;  for,  as  the  Jew  clothes-man  never 
travels  the  streets  by  night-time,  the  parties  who 
then  have  old  clothes  to  dispose  of  usually  sell 
them  to  the  marine-store  or  second-hand  dealers 
over-night,  and  the  Jew  buys  them  in  the  morning. 
The  first  that  he  does  on  his  rounds  is  to  seek  out 
these  shops,  and  see  what  he  can  pick  up  there. 
A  very  great  amount  of  business  is  done  by  the 
Jew  clothes-man  at  the  marine-store  shops  at  the 
West  as  well  as  at  the  East-end  of  London." 

Within  a  short  distance  of  Houndsditch  stood 
Hand  Alley,  built  on  the  site  of  one  of  the  re- 
ceptacles for  the  dead  during  the  raging  of  the 
great  Plague  in  1665.  "The  upper  end  of  Hand 
Alley,  in  Bishopsgate  Street,"  writes  Defoe,  "  which 
was  then  a  green,  and  was  taken  in  particularly 
for  Bishopsgate  parish,  though  many  of  the  carts 
out  of  the  City  brought  then  dead  thither  also, 
particularly  out  of  the  parish  of  St.  AUhallows-in- 
the-Wall :  this  place  I  cannot  mention  without 
much  regret.  It  was,  as  I  remember,  about  two 
or  three  years  after  the  Plague  was  ceased,  that 
Sir  Robert  Clayton  came  to  be  possessed  of  the 
groijnd.  It  was  reported,  how  true  I  know  not, 
that  it  fell  to  the  king  for  want  of  heirs,  all  those 


Bishopsgate^] 


THE  EXCISE  OFFICE. 


i6S 


wlio  had  any  right  to  it  being  carried  off  by  the 
pestilence,  and  that  Sir  Robert  Clayton  obtained  a 
grant  of  it  from  Charles  II.  But  however  he  came 
by  it,  certain  it  is  the  ground  was  let  out  to  be  built 
upon,  or  built  upon  by  his  order.  The  first  house 
built  upon  it  was  a  large  fair  house,  still  standing, 
which  faces  tke  street  or  way  now  called  Hand 
Alley,  which,  though  called  an  alley,  is  as  wide 
as  a  street.  The  houses,  in  the  same  row  vnth 
that  house  northward,  are  built  on  the  very  same 
ground  where  the  poor  people  were  buried,  and 
the  bodies,  on  opening  the  ground  for  the  founda- 
tions, were  dug  up ;  some  of  them  remaining  so 
plain  to  be  seen,  that  the  women's  skulls  were  dis- 
tinguished by  their  long  hair,  and  of  others  the 
flesh  was  not  quite  perished,  so  that  the  people 
began  to  exclaim  loudly  against  it,  and  some 
suggested  that  it  might  endanger  a  return  of  the 
contagion.  After  which  the  bones  and  bodies,  as 
they  came  at  them,  were  carried  to  another  part  of 
the  same  ground,  and  thrown  all  together  into  a 
deep  pit  dug  on  purpose,  which  now  is  to  be  known 
in  that  it  is  not  built  on,  but  is  a  passage  to  another 
house  at  the  upper  end  of  Rose  Alley,  just  against 
the  door  of  a  meeting-house.  .  .  .  There  lie 
the  bones  and  remains  of  near  2,000  bodies, 
carried  by  the  dead-carts  to  their  graves  in  that 
one  year." 

A  turning  from  Houndsditch,  of  unsavoury 
memory,  leads  to  Bevis  Marks.  Here  formerly 
stood  the  City  mansion  and  gardens  of  the  abbots 
of  Bury.  The  corruption  of  Bury's  Marks  to  Bevis 
Marks  is  undoubted,  though  not  obvious.  Stow 
describes  it  as  "  one  great  house,  large  of  rooms, 
fair  courts,  and  garden  plots,"  some  time  pertaining 
to  the  Bassets,  and  afterwards  to  the  abbots  of 
Bury.  Bury  Street,  where  the  old  house  stood,  was 
remarkable  for  a  synagogue  of  Portuguese  Jews, 
and  a  Dissenting  chapel,  where  the  good  Dr.  Watts 
was  for  many  years  pastor. 

Towards  Camomile  Street,  close  to  London  Wall, 
stood  the  Papey,  a  religious  house  belonging  to 
a  brotherhood  of  St.  John  and  St.  Charity  (our 
readers  will  remember  Shakespeare  talks  of  "By 
Gis  and  by  St.  Charity"),  founded  in  1430,  by  three 
charity  priests.  The  members  were  professional 
mourners,  and  are  often  so  represented  on  monu- 
ments. The  original  band  consisted  of  a  master, 
two  wardens,  chaplains,  chantry  priests,  conducts, 
and  Other  brothers  aod  sisters.  Sir  Frg.ncis  Walr 
singham,  Elizabeth's  astute  and  wily  secretary,  after- 
wards inhabited  the  house. 

Old  Broad  Street,  as  late  as  the  reign  of 
Charles  I.,  was  (says  Cunningham)  one  of  the  most 
fashionable    streets    iij  London.     In  Elizabeth's 


reign>  Gilbert  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  lived 
here,  and,  in  Charles's  time,  Lords  Weston 'and 
Dover.  Here  at  the  same  time  was  a  glass-house, 
where  Venice  glasses  (then  so  prized)  were  made 
by  Venetian  workmen.  Mr.  James  Howell,  author 
of  the  "  Familiar  Letters "  which  bear  his,  name, 
was  (says  Strype)  steward  to  this  house.  When 
Howell,  unable  to  bear  the  heat  of  the  place,  gave 
up  his  stewardship,  he  said,  if  he  had  ;Stayed  much 
longer,  he  should  in  a  short  time  have  melted  tq 
nothing  among  these  hot  Venetians.  Th6  ,place 
afterwards  became  Pinners'  Hall,  and  then  a  Dis- 
senting chapel.  The  Pinners,  or  Pinmakers,  were 
incorporated  by  Charles  I.  In  February,  1659-60 
Monk  drew  up  his  forces  in  Finsbury,  dined  with 
the  Lord  Mayor,  had  conference  with  him  and  the 
Court  of  Aldermen,  retired  to  the  "  Bull's  Head," 
in  Cheapside,  and  quartered  at  the  glass-house,  in 
Broad  Street,  multitudes  of  people  following  him, 
and  congratulating  him  on  his  coming  into  the 
City,  amid  shouting,  clashing  bells,  and  lighted 
bonfires. 

In  Old  Broad  Street  the  elder  Dance  built  the 
Excise  Office  in  1768,  which  was  removed  in  1848 
to  Somerset  House.  This  Government  Office  origi- 
nally stood  on  the  west  side  of  Ironmonger  Lane, 
where  was  formerly  the  mansion  of  Sir  J.  Frederick. 
For  ;^Soo  a  year  the  tmstees  of  the  Gresham  estates 
annihilated  Gresham  College.  Dance's  building, 
of  stone  and  brick,  was  much  praised  for  its  simple 
grandeur.  Charles  I.  seems  to  have  intended  to 
levy  excise  duties  as  early  as  1626,  butUhe  Par- 
liament stopped  him.  The  Parliament,  however, 
to  maintain  their  forces,  were  compelled  to  found 
an  Excise  Office,  in  1643,  s-^id  ale,  beer,  cider,  and 
perry  were  the  first  articles  taxed,  together  with  wine, 
silks,  fur,  hats,  and  lace.  There  were  riots  in  London 
about  the  new  system,  and  the  mob  burnt  down  the 
Excise  House  in  Smithfield.  The  Excise  revenue 
at  first  amounted  to  ;^i,334jS32.  The  first  act  after 
the  Restoration  was  to  abolish  excise  on  all  articles 
except  ale,  &c.,  which  produced  an  annual  revenue 
of  ;^666,383.  The  duties  on  glass  and  malt  were 
first  imposed  in  William's  reign,  and  the  salt  duty 
was  then  re-imposed.'  Queen  Anne's  expensive 
wars  led  to  duties  on  paper  and  soap;  and  her 
revenue  from  excise  amounted  to ;^i, 738,000  a  year. 
In  the  reign  of  George  I.  the  produce  of  the  Excise 
averaged  ;^2,34o,ooo.  Sir  Robert  Walpole  did  all 
he  could  to  extend  the  Excise,  while  Pitt  carried 
out  all  Walpole  had  attempted.  In  1793,  no  fewer 
than  twenty-nine  articles  were  subject  to  the  Excise 
laws,  and  the  gross  revenue  from  them  amounted 
to  ten  millions  and  a  half.  In  1797,  the  number 
of  officers  employed  in  England  was  4,777.     In 


?. 


i66 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Bishopsgatew 


the  first  twenty  years  after  the  peace,  the  reduction 
of  duties  led  to  the  dismissal  of  847  Excise  officers. 

One  of  the  most  distinguished  inhabitants  of 
Broad  Street,  many  years  ago,  was  the  great 
surgeon.  Sir  Astley  Cooper.  "  He  was  then,"  says 
"Aleph,"  "attached  to  Guy's  Hospital,  having  a 
large  class  of  pupils,  and  a  numerous  morning 
levee  of  City  patients.  His  house  was  a  capa- 
cious corner  tenement  in  Broad  Street,  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  wide-paved  court  leading  by  St. 
Botolph's  Church  into  Bishopsgate  Street.  When 
patients  applied  they  were  ushered  into  a  large  front 
room,  which  would  comfortably  receive  from  forty 
to  fifty  persons.  It  was  plainly  furnished ;  the 
floor  covered  with  a  Turkey  carpet,  a  goodly  muster 
of  lumbering  mahogany  horse-hair  seated  chaii\S, 
a  long  table  in  the  centre,  with  a .  sprinkling  of 
tattered  books  and  stale  periodicals,  'Asperne's 
Magazine,'  and  the  'British  Critic,'  and  a  dingy, 
damaged  pier-glass  over  the  chimney.  Sir  Astley 
Cooper's  earnings  during  the  first  nine  years,  of  his 
practice  progressed  thus — First  year,  5  guineas; 
second, ;^26;  third, ;^64;  fourth, ;£'96;  fifth,  ;^ioo; 
sixth,  ;£2oo;  seventh,  ^^400;  eighth,  ^600;  ninth, 
p^i,ioo.  But  the  time  was  coming  when  patients 
were  to  stand  for  hours  in  his  ante-rooms  waiting 
for  an  interview,  and  were  often  dismissed  without 
being  admitted  to  the  consulting-room.  His  man 
Charles,  with  infinite  dignity,  used  to  say  to  the 
disappointed  applicants  when  they  reappeared 
next  morning,  '  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  we  shall 
be  able  to  attend  to  you,  for  we  are  excessively 
busy,  and  our  list  is  full  for  the  day ;  but  if  you'll 
wait,  I'll  see  what  can  be  done  for  you.'  " 

The  largest  sum  Sir  Astley  ever  received  in  one 
year  was  _;^2 1,000,  but  for  a  series  of  years  his 
income  was  more  than  ;^i  5,000  per  annum.  As 
long  as  he  lived  in  the  City  his  gains  were  enormous, 
though  they  varied,  the  state  of  the  money  market 
having  a  curious  effect  on  his  fees.  Most  of  his 
City  patients  paid  their  fee  with  a  cheque,  and 
seldom  wrote  for  less  than  ;£$  5s.  Mr.  Coles,  of 
Mincing  Lane,  for  a  long  period  paid  him  ;^6oo 
a  year.  A  City  man,  who  consulted  him  in  Broad 
Street,  and  depart-ed  without  giving  any  fee,  soon 
after  sent  a  cheque  for  ;^63  los.  A  West  Indian 
millionaire  gave  Sir  Astley  his  largest  fee.  He  had 
undergone  successfully  a  painful  operation,'  and 
paid  his  physicians,  Lettsom  and  Nelson,  with  300 
guineas  each.  "But  you,  sir,"  cried  the  grateful 
old"  man,  sitting  up  in  bed,  and  addressing  Cooper, 
"  shall  have  something  better.  There,  sir,  take 
that ! "  It  was  his  nightcap,  which  he  flung  at  the 
surprised  surgeon.  "  Sir,"  answered  Cooper,  "  I'll 
pocket  the  affront,"  and  on  reaching  home  he 


found  in  the  cap  a  draft  for  1,000  guineas.  When 
Sir  Astley  left  Broad  Street  he  established  himself 
in  Spring  Gardens,  and  there,  too,  his  practice  was 
very  considerable,  but  neither  so  extensive  nor  < 
lucrative  as  that  he  enjoyed  in  the  City.  He  died 
in  1841. 

In  1854,  on  taking  down  the  Excise  Office,  at 
about  fifteen  feet  lower  than  the  foundation  of 
Gresham  House,  was  found  a  pavement  twenty- 
eight  feet  square.  It  is  a  geometrical  pattern  of 
bro4d  blue  lines,  forming  intersections  of  octagon 
and  lozenge  compartments.  The  octagon  figures 
are  bordered  with  a  cable  pattern,  shaded  with 
grey,  and  interlaced  with  a  square  border,  shaded 
with  red  and  yellow.  In  the  centres,  within  a  ring, 
are  expanded  flowers,  shaded  in  red,  yellow,  and 
grey;  the  double  row  of  leaves  radiating  from  a 
figure  called  a  truelove-knot,  alternately  with  a 
figure  something  like  the  tiger-lily.  Between  the 
octagon  figures  are  square  compartments  bearing 
various  devices ;  in  the  centre  of  the  pavement  is 
Ariadne,  or  a  Bacchante,  recUning  on  the  back  of 
a  panther ;  but  only  the  fore-paws,  one  of  the 
hind-paws,  and  the  tail  remain.  Over  the  head  of 
the  figure  floats  a  light  drapery  forming  an  arch. 
Another  square  contains  a  two-handled  vase.  In 
the  demi-octagons,  at  the  sides  of  the  pattern,  are 
lunettes ;  one  contains  a  fan  ornament,  another  a 
bowl  crowned  with  flowers.  The  lozenge  inter- 
sections are  variously  embellished  with  leaves, 
shells,  truelove-knots,  chequers,  and  an  ornament 
shaped  like  a  dice-box.  At  the  comers  of  the 
pattern  are  truelove-knots.  Surrounding  this 
pattern,  in  a  broad  cable-like  border,  are  broad 
bands  of  blue  and  white  alternately. 

The  church  of  St.  Peter  le  Poor,  Old  Broad 
Street,  stands  near  the  site  of  old  Paulet  House. 
Stow  thinks  this  may  once  have  been  a  poor  parish, 
and  so  gives  its  name  to  the  saint,  "  though  at  this 
present  time  there  be  many  fair  houses  possessed 
by  rich  merchants  and  others."  The  church  being 
in  a  ruinous  condition,  was  pulled  down  in  1788, 
rebuilt  by  Jesse  Gibson,  and  consecrated  by  Bishop 
Porteus  in  1792. 

Old  Broad  Street  leads  us  into  the  interesting 
region  of  Austin  Friars,  a  district  rich  in  anti- 
quities. Here  once  stood  a  priory  of  begging 
friars,  founded,  in  1243,  by  Humphrey  Bohun, 
Earl  of  Hereford  and  Essex,  and  dedicated  to 
St  Augustine,  Bishop  of  Hippo,  in  Africa.  The 
church  was  ornamented  "  with  a  fine  spired  steeple, 
small,  high,  and  straight,"  whith  Stow-  admired.  At 
the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries,  Henry  VIII. 
granted  the  friars'  house  and  grounds  to  William 
Paulet,  first  Marquis  of  Winchester,  Comptroller 


BIshopsgate.l 


AUSTIN  FRIARS. 


167 


of  the  Household,  and  Lord  High  Treasurer,  who 
made  the  place  his  town  residence.  The  ch^urch 
was  reserved,  and  given  by  Edward  V'l.,  to  the 
Dutchmen  of  London,  to  have  their  services  in, 
"  for  avoiding  of  all  sects  of  Ana-Baptists,  and  such 
like."  The  decorated  windows  of  the  church  are 
still  preserved,  but  the  spire  and  the  splendid 
tombs  mentioned  by  Stow  are  gone. 

"  Here,"  says  Mr.  Jesse,  "  lies  the  pious  founder 
of  the  priory,  Humphrey  de  Bohun,  who  stood  god- 
father at  the  font  for  Edward  I.,  and  who  afterwards 
fought  against  Henry  III.,  with  the  leagued  barons, 
at  the  battle  of  Evesham.  Here  were  interred  the 
remains  of  the  great  Hubert  de  Burgh,  Earl  of 
Kent,  the  most  powerful  subject  in  Europe  during 
the  reigns  of  King  John  and  Henry  III.,  and  no 
less  celebrated  for  his  chequered  and  romantic 
fortunes.  Here  rests  Edmund,  son  of  Joan  Plan- 
tagenet,  '  the  Fair  Maid  of  Kent,'  and  half-brother 
to  Richard  II.  Here  lies  the  headless  trunk  of 
the  gallant  Fitzallan,  tenth  Earl  of  Arundel,  who 
was  executed  in  Cheapside  in  1397.  Here  also  rest 
the  mangled  remains,  of  the  barons  who  fell  at  the 
battle  of  Barnet,  in  147 1,  and  who  were  interred 
together  in  the  body  of  the  church ;  of  John  de 
Vere,  tsvelfth  Earl  of  Oxford,  who  was  beheaded  on 
Tower  Hill  with  his  eldest  son,  Aubrey,  in  146 1 ; 
•and,  lastly,  of  the  gallant  and  princely  Edward 
Stafford,  Duke  of  Buckingham — 'poor  Edward 
Bohiin' — who,  having  fallen  a  victim  to  the  vin- 
dictive jealousy  of  Cardinal  Wolsey,  was  beheaded 
on  Tower  Hill  in  1521." 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Hugo  says  that  the  old  conven- 
tual church  of  Austin  Friars  had  all  the  magni- 
ficence of  a  cathedral ;  it  consisted  of  the  present 
nave,  153  feet  in  length,  183  broad,  with  ample 
transepts  and  choir.  There  are  visible  thirty-six 
monumental  slabs;  seventeen  with  one  or  more 
small  figures,  and  sixteen  with  one  or  more  shields 
and  small  inscriptions  at  the  foot.  These  slabs 
have  been  used  as  paving  stones ;  some  years  ago 
many  more  were  visible,  but  they  are  now  con- 
cealed by  the  flooring. 

In  Austin  Friars  (1735)  Richard  Gough  the 
antiquary  was  born,  and  here,  at  No.  18,  lived 
James  Smith,  one  of  the  authors  of  the  "  Rejected 
Addresses."  A  second  James  Smith  coming  to 
the  place,  after  he  had  been  many  years  a  resident 
here,  produced  so  much  confusion  to  both,  that 
the  last  comer  waited  on  the  author  and  suggested, 
to  prevent  future  inconvenience,  that  one  or  other 
had  better  leave,  hinting,  at  the  same  time,  that  he 
should  like  to  stay.  "  No,"  said  the  wit,  "  I  am 
James  the  First,  you  are  James  the  Second ;  you 
must  abdicate." 


Lord  Winchester  died  in  1571,  and  his  son, 
having  sold  the  monuments  at  Austin  Friars  for 
;^ioo,  took  the  lead  ofif  the  roof,  and  made, 
stabling  of  the  church  ground.  In  1602  a  fourth 
marquis  was  so  poor  as  to  be  compelled  to  part 
with  Austin  Friars  to  John  Swinnerton,  a  London 
merchant,  afterwards  Lord  Mayor.  Fulke  Greville 
(Sir  Philip  Sidney's  frie-nd),  who  lived  in  Austin 
Friars,  wrote  in  alarm  at  this  change  to  the  Countess 
of  Shrewsbury,  one  of  his  neighbours.  Lady  Warwick 
seems  to  have  been  another  tenant  of  the  Friary. 

In  Winchester  Street,  adjoining  Austin  Friars, 
stood  Winchester  House,  built  by  the  first  Marquis 
of  Winchester,  who  also  founded  Basing  Hotise. 
This  nobleman  died  in  1572,  in  his  ninety-seventh 
year,  having  lived  under  nine  sovereigns,  and 
having  103  persons  immediately  descended  from 
him.  When  this  marquis  was  asked  how  he  had 
retained  royal  favour  and  power  under  so  many 
conflicting  sovereigns,  he  replied,  "  By  being  a 
willow,  and  not  an  oak."  Mr.  Jesse  visited  the 
house  before  its  demolition,  in  1839,  and  found 
the  old  Paulet  motto,  "  Aimez  Loyaulte,"  on  many 
of  the  staiiied-glass  windows.  This  was  the  motto 
that  the  Marquis  of  Winchester,  during  the  gallant 
defence  of  Basing  House,  engraved  with  a  diamond 
on  every  window  of  his  mansion.  It  was  in  apart- 
ments of  this  house  in  Austin  Friars  that  Anne 
Clifford,  daughter  of  the  Countess  of  Cumberland, 
was  married  to  her  first  husband,  Richard,  third 
Earl  of  Dorset,  on  the  25th  of  February,  1608-9. 
It  was  this  proud  lady  (already  mentioned  by  us) 
who  returned  the  defiant  answer  to  the  election 
p.gents  of  Charles  II.,  "Your  man  shall  not  stand." 

In  1 62 1,  the  Earl  of  Strafford  (a  victim  of  the 
sham  Popish  plot),  when  representing  York,  took 
up  his  residence  in  Austin  Friars,  with  his  young 
children  and  the  fair  wife  whom  he  lost  in  the 
following  year,  and  whom  he  alluded  to  in  his  trial 
as  "  a  saint  in  heaven."  In  Austin  Friaars  died,  in 
.1776,  James  Hey  wood,  who  had  been  one  of  the 
popular  writers  in  the  Sfedator.  He  is  said  to 
have  been  originally  a  wholesale  linendraper  in 
Fish  Street  Hill. 

Nearly  at  the  end  of  Little  Winchester  Street  is 
the  Church  of  Allhallows-in-the-Wall.  It  escaped 
the  Great  Fire,  but,  becoming  ruinous,  was  taken 
down  in  1764,  and  the  present  church  built  by  the 
younger  Dance.  In  the  chancel  is  a  tablet  to 
the  Rev.  W.  Beloe,  the  well-known  translator  of 
Herodotus,  who  died  in  181 7,  after  having  held 
the  rectory  of  the  parish  for  twenty  years.  The 
altar-piece,  a  copy  of  Pietro  di  Cortona's  "  Ananias 
restoring  Paul  to  Sight,"  was  the  gift  of  Sir  N. 
Dance.      The   parish  books,   commencing    1455, 


i68 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Bishopsgate, 


record  the  benefactions  of  an  anchorite  who  lived 
near  the  church. 

London  Wall,  an  adjoining  street,  is  interesting, 
as  indicating  the  site  of  that  portion  of  the  old  City 
wall  that  divided  the  City  Liberty  from  the  Manor 
of  Finsbury.    The  old  Bethlehem  Hospital,  taken 


Aldgate,  Houndsditch,  Bishopsgate,  along  London 
Wall,  to  Fore  Street;  through  Cripplegate  and 
Castle  Street  to  Aldersgate ;  and  through  Christ's 
Hospital,  by  Newgate  and  Ludgate,  to  the  Thames. 
In  this  street  stands  Sion  College,  built  on  the 
site  of  the  Priory  of  Elsing  Spital.      Elsing  was 


THE  FOUR  SWANS'  "INN.      f^Taken  shortly  before  its  demolition.) 


down  in  1814,  was  built  against  the  portion  of  the 
wall  then  removed.  Hughson  says  the  Roman  work 
was  found  uncommonly  thick,  the  bricks  being 
double  the  size  of  those  now  used,  and  the  centre 
filled  in  with  large  loose  stones.  The  level  of  the 
street  has  been  raised  two  feet  within  the  last  fifty 
years.  The  old  Roman  wall,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, ran  from  the  Tower  through  the  Minories  to 


a  London  mercer,  who,  about  1329,  founded  an 
hospital  for  one  hundred  blind  men  on  the  site  of  a 
decayed  nunnery.  The  house  was  subsequently 
turned  into  a  priory,  consisting  of  four  canons 
regular,  to  minister  to  the  blind,  Elsing  himself 
being  the  first  prior. 

The  ground  so  long  consecrated  to  charity  was 
purchased,  in  pursuance  of  the  will  of  Dr.  Thomas 


Bishopsgate.3 


SIGN  COLLEGE. 


169 


«Q        \T^-r        TT 


17© 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON; 


IComhai 


White,  vicar  of  St.  Dunstan's-in-the-West,  and  in 
1623  a  college  was  erected,  governed  by  a  presi- 
dent, two  deans,  and  four  assistants.  Dr.  John 
Sinison,  rector  of  St.  Olave's,  Hart  Street,  and  one 
of  Dr.  White's  executors,  founded  a  library.  It 
contains  the  Jesuit  books  seized  in  1679,  ^.nd  half 
the  library  of  Sir  Robert  Cooke,  the  gift  of  George 
Lord  Berkeley,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  but  a 
third  of  the  books  were  destroyed  in  the  Great  Fire. 
By  the  Copyright  Act  of  Queen  Anne,  the  library 
received  a  gratuitous  copy  of  every  work  published, 
till  1836,  when  the  college  received  instead  a 
Treasury  grant  of  ^£^363  a  year.  The  library  con- 
tains more  than  50,000  volumes,  and  is  open  to 


the  public  by  an  order  from  one  of  the  Fellows. 
The  College  contains  a  curious  old  picture  of  the 
"  Decollation  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,"  with  an 
inscription  in  Saxon  characters,  supposed  to  have 
come  from  Elsing's  old  priory.  There  is  also  a 
good  portrait  for  costume  of  "  Mrs.  James  in  her 
Sunday  Dress."  Her  husband,  a  printer  (temp. 
WilUam  and  Mary),  was  a  donor  to  the  library. 

Defoe,  in  his  "Journey  through  England," 
1722,  speaks  of  Sion  College  as  designed  for  the 
use  of  the  clergy  in  and  round  London,  where 
expectants  could  lodge  till  they  were  provided  with 
houses  in  their  own  parishes.  There  was  also  a 
hospital  for  ten  poor  men  and  ten  poor  women. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 
CORNHILL,    GRACECHURCH    STREET,    AND    FENCHURCH    STREET. 

Mediseval  Cornhill— I'he  Standard— St.  Michael's,  Cornhill— St.  Peter's— The  First  London  Printsellers— A  Comedian's  Tragedy— Dreadful  Fire 
in  Cornhill — The  First  Coffee-house  in  London — "  Garraway's  " — Birchin  Lane — St.  Bennet  Gracechurch — George  Fox — Fenchurch  Street^ 
Denmark  House— St.  Dionis  Backchureh— The  Church  of  St.  Margaret  Pattens— Billiter  Street — Ironmongers'  Hall— Mincing  Lane— The 
Clothworkers"  Company— The  Mark  Lane  Corn  Exchange— The  Corn  Ports  of  London— Statistics  and  Curiosities  of  the  Com  Trade— 
An  Old  Relic. 


What  we  have  already  written  of  the  discovery  of 
Roman  antiquities  on  the  site  of  the  Royal  Ex- 
change will  serve  to  show  how  completely  Cornhill 
traverses  the  centre  of  Roman  London. 

A  corn-market,  says  Stow,  was,  "time  out  of 
mind,  there  holden."  Drapeirs  were  the  earliest 
inhabitants.  Lydgate  speaks  of  it  as  a  place  where 
old  clothes  were  bought,  and  sometimes  stolen — 

"  Then  into  Corn  Hyl  anon  I  yode, 
Where  was  mutch  stolen  gere  amonge  ; 
I  saw  where  honge  myne  owne  hoode. 
That  I  had  lost  amonge  the  thronge  ; 
To  buy  my  own  hood  I  thought  it  wronge, 
I  knew  it  well  as  I  dyd  my  crede, 
But  for  lack  of  money  I  could  not  spede." 

The  two  great  ornaments  of  mediaeval  Cornhill 
were  the  Tun,  a  round  house,  or  temporary  prison, 
and  the  Standard,  a  water  conduit,  and  point  of 
measurement. 

The  Tun,  says  Stow,  was  built  in  the  year  1282, 
by  Henry  Wallis,  Mayor  of  London,  as  a  prison 
for  night  offenders.  For  breaking  open  the  prison, 
and  releasing  prisoners,  certain  citizens,  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  I.,  were  fined  20,000  marks. 
Abandoned  priests  were  sometimes  locked  up  here. 
In  1 40 1  the  Tun  was  turned  into  a  conduit,  and  a 
cage,  stocks,  and  pillory  added,  for  scolds  and 
cheating  bakers.  Rascals  of  various  kijids  were, 
in  Edward  IV. 's  reign,  compelled  to  ride  from 
Newgate  tp  this  pillory,  in  ComhiU,  and  there 


stand,  with  papers  detailing  their  offences  tied  to 
their  heads. 

The  Standard  was  a  conduit,  with  four  spouts, 
made  by  Peter  Morris,  a  German,  in  the  year 
1582,  and  supplied  with  Thames  water,  conveyed 
by  leaden  pipes  over  the  steeple  oi,  St.  Magnus' 
Church.  It  stood  at  the  east  end  of  Cornhill,  at 
its  junction  with  Gracechurch  Street,  Bishopsgate 
Street,  and  Leadenhall  Street.  The  water  ceased 
to  run  between  1598  and  1603,  but  the  Standard 
itself  remained  long  after.  It  was  much  used  as  a 
point  of  measurement  of  distances  ;  and  Cunning- 
ham says  that  several  of  our  suburban  milestones 
are  still  inscribed  with  "so  many  miles  from  the 
Standard  in  Cornhill."  There  was  a  Standard  in 
Cornhill  as  early  as  the  2nd  of  Henry  V. 

Cornhill,  considering  its  commercial  importance, 
is  a  street  by  no  means  full  of  old  memories. 
•  St.  Michael's,  Cornhill,  is  one  of  seven  London 
>  churches  dedicated  to  the  Archangel  Michael, 
the  patron  saint  of  France.  "  It  formerly  faced 
Cornhill,  but  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  it  was 
blocked  out  by  four  houses,  and  it  may  now  be  de- 
scribed as  standing  on  the  east  side  of  St.  Michael's 
Alley.  It  is  probable  that  a  Saxon  church  first 
stood  here ;  but  the  earliest  record  of  the  fabric 
is  previous  to  1133.  In  that  year  the  Abbot  of 
Evesham  granted  it  to  Sparling,  a  priest,  for  the  rent 
of  one  mark  a  year,  and  lodging,  salt,  water,  and 
firing  to  the  abbot,  whenever  he  came  to  London. 


Cornhill.] 


FAMOUS  CHURCHES  IN    CORNHILL. 


i7t 


In  1503  the  Abbey  of  Evesham  ceded  it  to  the 
Drapers'  Company  for  an  annuity  of  ^£5  6s.  8d. 

William  Rous,-  sheriff  of  London  in  1429,  and 
who  was  buried  in  the  chapel  of  St.  Mary  in 
this  church,  left  ;£'ioo  to  found  an  altar  in  the 
chancel,  and  ;^4o  towards  a  new  tower,  the  old 
one  having  been  burnt  down,  in  1421.  At  the 
south  side  of  the  church  there  was  originally  a 
cloister,  and  in  the  churchyard  a  pulpit-cross,  built 
by  Sir  John  Rudston,  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  who 
was  buried  beneath  it.  In  the  church  is  interred 
one  of  our  old  chroniclers.  Alderman  Fabian,  who 
died  in  1 5  iii  He  is  well  known  for  his  "Chronicles 
of  England  and  France,"  which  he  termed  "The 
Concordance  of  Histories."  Here  also  rest  the 
remains  of  the  ancestors  of  another  useful  London 
chronicler,  who  was  bom  in  this  parish,  where  his 
predecessors  had  resided  for  three  generations. 
Stow's  father  and  grandfather  were  both  buried 
here.  The  grandfather,  a  tallow-chandler,  with 
due  remembrance  of  candles  sold  by  him  for  such 
purposes,  directs  in  his  will  that  from  All  Hallows' 
Day  till  the  Candlemas  following  a  watching-candle 
burn  on  all  the  seven  altars  of  the  church  from  six 
o'clock  till  past  seven,  in  worship  of  the  seven  sacra- 
ments. He  also  gave  to  a  poor  man  and  woman, 
every  Sunday  in  one  year,  one  penny  to  say  five 
paternostgrs  and  aves  and  a  creed  for  his  soul. 

The  old  church,  all  but  the  tower,  was  destroyed 
by  the  Great  Fire,  and  Wren  commenced  the 
present  building  in  1672.  The  tower  itself  had  to' 
be  rebuilt  in  1721.  The  body  of  the  church  is  in 
the  Italian  style,  divided  by  Doric  columns  and 
arches.  The  tower  is  perpendicular,  in  imitation 
of  the  chapel  tower  at  Magdalen  College,  Oxford, 
and  it  rises  to  the  height  of  130  feet.  Wren  spoiled 
his  rival  tower  by  a  mixture  of  Italian  details.  This 
church  was  magnificently  decorated  in  1859,  from 
designs  by  Mr.  G.  G.  Scott. 

The  chronicler  Stow  has  the  following  legend, 
relating  how  the  devil  came  down  to  St.  Michael's 
belfry  in  a  storm  of  lightning : — "  Upon  St.  James's 
Night,"  says  our  venerable  author,  "  certain  men 
in  the  loft  next  under  the  bells,  ringing  of  a  peal, 
a  tempest  of  lightning  and  thunder  did  arise  : 
an  ugly-shapen  sight  appeared  to  them  coming  in 
at  the  south  window  and  lighted  on  the  north. 
For  fear  whereof  they  all  ffeU  down,  and  lay  as 
dead  for  the  time,  letting  the  bells  ring  and  cease 
of  their  own  accord.  When  the  ringers  came  to 
themselves,  they  found  certain  stones  of  the  north 
window  to  be  raised  and  scratched,  as  if  they  had 
been  so  much  butter  printed  with  a  lyon's  claw ;  the 
same  stones  were  fastened  there  again,  and  so  remain 
till  this  day.    I  have  seen  them  oft,  and  have  put 


a  feather  or  small  stick  into  the  holes  where  the 
claws  had  entered  three  or  four  inches  deep." 

A  brass  slab  preserved  at  St.  Peter's,  Cornhill 
claims  that  building  as  the  first  Christian  church 
founded  in  London.  The  legendary  founder  was 
Lucius,  the  first  Christian  king,  a.d.  179.  It  is 
said  to  have  remained  the  metropolitan  church  of 
the  kingdom  till  the  coming  of  St.  Augustine,  four 
hundred  years  after. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  one  Geffrey  Russell, 
who  had  been  implicated  in  a  murder  said  to  have 
been  committed  by  another  man  in  St.  Peter's 
Churchyard,  fled  for  sanctuary  to  St.  Peter's  Church. 
In  the  year  1243,  one  of  the  priests  attached  to 
St.  Peter's,  Cornhill,  was  murdered.  The  patron- 
age of  the  rectory  came  into  the  hands  of  Sir 
Richard  Whittington,  and  others,  who  conveyed  it, 
in  i4ri,  to  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Commonalty  of 
London.  Among  the  celebrated  rectors  we  must 
not  forget  Dr.  William  Beveridge,  afterwards  Bishop 
of  St.  Asaph.  Dr.  Beveridge  (died  1708)  was  an 
eminent  theological  writer,  famous  for  his  Syriac 
Grammar,  and  his  laborious  work  on  the  Apostolical 
Canons.  The  old  church  was  destroyed  by  the 
Great  Fire,  and  the  present  edifice  erected  in  1686 
by  Sir  Christopher  Wren.  The  tower  of  brick  is 
surmounted  by  a  small  leaden  cupola  and  spire, 
crowned  by  an  enormous  key.  The  church  con- 
tains a  tablet  recording  the  death,  in  a  great  fire, 
January  iSth,  1782,  of  the  seven  children  of  James 
Woodmason,  of  Leadenhall  Street.  Leading  from 
the  church,  it,  is  said,  is  a  subterranean  passage, 
entered  by  a  flight  of  steps  from  the  belfry.  Some 
"London  tavern"  apprentices  are  reported,  many 
years  ago,  to  have  explored  this  passage,  which  is 
now  bricked  up.  Many  years  ago  a  stone  coffin  and 
urn  were  found  within  the  enclosure  of  the  church. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  taverns  in  Cornhill 
was  the  "Pope's  Head,"  mentioned  as  early  as 
the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  Here,  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VI.,  wine  was  sold  at  a  penny  a  pint,  without 
charge  for  bread.  Stow  seems  to  think  the  "  Pope's 
Head  "  had  once  been  a  royal  palace.  In  his  time 
the  ancient  arms  of  England  (three  leopards  sup- 
ported by  two  angels)  were  to  be  seen  engraved  in 
stone  on  the  walls.  It  was  here  that  the  Alicant 
and  English  goldsmiths  decided  their  wager,  as  we 
have  already  mentioned  in  our  chapter  on  the 
Goldsmiths'  Company.  In  161 5,  Sir  William 
Craven  (father  of  the  first  Earl  of  Craven)  left  the 
"  Pope's  Head"  to  the  Merchant  Taylors' Company, 
for  charitable  purposes,  and  the  Company  had  in 
1849  nine  houses  on  that  spot.  The  first  edition 
of  Speed's  "Great  Britain"  (folio,  1611)  was  sold  by 
John  Sudbury  and  George  Humble  in  Pope's  Head 


172 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


fComWlI. 


Alley,  at  the  sign  of  the  "White  Horse."  This 
firm,  says  Cunningham,  were  the  first  printsellers 
established  in  London.  Ben  Jonson  mentions  the 
pamphlets  of  Pope's  Alley,  and  Peacham,  in  his 
"  Complete  Gentleman,"  alludes  to  the  printsellers. 
Before  the  Great  Fire,  the  alley  was  famous  for  its 
traders  in  toys  and  turners'  ware.  In  Strype's 
time  (thirty  years  later)  it  was  especially  afiected  by 
cutlers.  The  "  Pope's  Head  "  tavern  was  the  scene 
of  a  fray,  in  April,  17 18,  between  Quin,  the  actor, 
and  his  fellow-comedian  Bowen.  The  latter,  a  hot- 
headed Irishman,  jealous  of  Quin's  success,  sent 
for  him  to  the  "  Pope's  Head."  As  soon  as  Quin 
entered,  Bowen,  in  a  transport  of  envy  and' rage, 
planted  his  back  against  the  door,  drew  his  sword, 
and  bade  Quin  draw  his.  Quin  in  vain  remon- 
strated, but  at  last  drew  in  his  own  defence,  and 
tried  to  disarm  his  antagonist.  Bowen  eventually 
received  a  mortal  wound,  of  which  he  died  in  three 
days,  confessing  at  last  his  folly  and  madness. 
Quin  was  tried,  and  honourably  acquitted. 

Comhill  has  been  the  scene  of  two  dreadful  fires. 
The  first,  in  1 748,  commenced  at  a  peruke-maker's, 
in  Exchange  Alley,  and  burnt  from  ninety  to  one 
hundred  houses,  valued  at  ;^2oo,ooo,  and  many 
lives  were  lost.  This  conflagration  swept  away  a  few 
historical  houses,  including  the  London  Assurance 
Office,  the  "Fleece"  and  "Three  Tuns"  taverns, 
"Tom's"  and  the  "Rainbow"  coffee-houses,  the 
"Swan"  tavern,  " Garraway's,"  "Jonathan's,"  and 
the  "Jerusalem"  cofiee-housdS,  in  Exchange  Alley, 
besides  the  "  George  and  Vulture  "  tavern.  It  like- 
wise destroyed  No.  41,  Comhill,  a  few  doors  from 
Birchin  Lane,  the  house  where,  in  17 16,  the  poet 
Gray  had  been  born.  Gray's  father  was  an  Ex- 
change broker.  The  house  was  rebuilt,  and  was, 
•in  1774,  occupied  by  Natzell,  a  perfumer.  In  1824 
the  occupant  was  also  a  perfumer.  The  second  great 
fire,  in  1765,  also  commenced  at  a  peruke-maker's, 
in  Bishopsgate  Street,  near  Leadenhall  Street.  It 
made  a  clean  sweep  of  all  the  houses  from  Comhill 
to  St.  Martin  Outwich  ;  and  the  church  parsonage, 
Merchant  Taylors'  Hall,  and  several  houses  in 
Threadneedle  Street,  were  much  damaged.  The 
"  White  Lion  "  tavern,  purchased  the' evening  before 
for  ^3,000,  all  the  houses  in  Wfiite  Lion  Court,  five 
houses  in  Comhill,  and  several  houses  in  Leaden- 
hall Street,  were  burnt,  and  several  lives  lost. 

No.  15,  Cornhill,  with  an  old-fashioned  front, 
was  the  shop  of  Messrs.  Birch,  the  celebrated  cooks 
and  confectioners.  We  have  already  mentioned 
Mr.  Birch,  Lord  Mayor  in  1815-16,  as  the  poet  and 
orator,  who  wrote  the  "  Adopted  Child,"  .^nd  other 
dramatic  works.  He  annually  presented  the  mayor 
witli  a  splendid  cake,  to  keep  Twelfth  Night, 


At  a  corner  house,  says  Mr.  Timbs,  between  Corn- 
hill  and  Lombard  Street,  Thomas  Guy,  the  wealthy 
stationer,  commenced  business.  He  was  the  son 
of  a  lighterman  at  Horsleydown,  and  was  ap- 
prenticed to  a  Cheapside  bookseller,  as  before^ 
mentioned  by  us.  The  "  Lucky  Corner  "  was  sub- 
sequently Bidding's  Lottery  Office.  There  were 
other  lottery  offices  in  Cornhill,  including  that  of 
Carroll,  Lord  Mayor  in  1846, 

Change  Alley,  Cornhill,  recalls  the  days  of  the 
South  Sea  Bubble,  and  brings  up  recollections  of 
Addison,  Pope,  and  Gay,  The  latter  poet  men- 
tions it  in  his  verses  to  his  friend  Snow,  the  gold- 
smith and  banker,  near  Temple  Bar,  who  had  been 
caught  by  the  Bubble : — ■ 

' '  Why  did  'Change  Alley  waste  thy  precious  hours 
Among  the  fools  who  gaped  for  golden  show'rs  ? 
No  wonder  if  we  found  some  poets  there, 
Who  live  on  fancy,  and  can  feed  on  air  ; 
No  wonder  they  were  caught  by  South  Sea  schemes, 
Who  ne'er  enjoyed  a  guinea  but  in  dreams." 

In  St.  Michael's  Alley,  in  the  time  of  the  Com- 
monwealth, the  first  London  coffee-house  was 
estabhshed.  It  was  opened,  about  the  year  1652, 
by  Bowman,  the  ex-coachman  of  Mr.  Hodges,  a 
Turkey  merchant.  His  first  partner  was  Basque 
Rosee,  a  Levantine  servant  of  the  same  merchant. 
Bowman  afterwards  dissolved  partnership,  and 
obtained  leave  to  pitch  a  tent  and  sell  the  "  sooty 
drink,"  at  first  so  much  villified  by  the  jealous 
vintners,  in  St.  Michael's  churchyard.  Four  years 
after,  Bowman's  apprentice  set  up  a  coffee-house 
opposite  St.  Michael's  Church.  The  novelty  was 
soon  over,  in  spite  of  the  lampooners,  who  declared 
it  made  men  unfraitful,  and  that  to  drink  the  new 
liquor  was  to  ape  the  Turks  and  insult  one's  canary- 
drinking  ancestors.  "  Were  it  the  mode,"  says  the 
writer  of  "Coffee  in  its  Colours"  (1663),  "men 
would  eat  spiders." 

"Garraway's,"  the  coffee-house  celebrated  for  two 
centuries,  in  Exchange  Alley,  is  now  pulled  down. 
It  was  here  that,  after  the  Restoration,  Ganaway 
issued  the  following  shop-bill : — "  Tea  in  England 
hath  been  sold  in  the  leaf  for  six  pounds,  and  some- 
times for  ten  pounds  the  pound  weight,  and  in 
respect  of  its  former  scarceness  and  deamess  it 
hath  been  only  used  as  a  regalia  in  high  treatments 
and  entertainments,  and  presents  made  thereof  to 
princes  and  grandees,  till  the  year  1657.  The  said 
Thomas  Garway  did  purchase  a  quantity  thereof, 
and  first  publicly  sold  the  said  tea  in  leaf,  and 
drink  made  according  to  the  directions  of  the 
most  knowing  merchants  and  travellers  into  those 
eastern  countries ;  and  upon  knowledge  and  expe- 
rience of  the  said  Garway's  continued  care  and 


Comhiri.j 


felRCHIN   LANE. 


173 


industry  in  obtaining  the  best  tea,  and  making 
drink  thereof,  very  many  noblemen,  physicians, 
merchants,  and  gentlemen  of  quality,  have  ever 
since  sent  to  him  for  the  said  leaf,  and  daily  resort 
t€f  his  house,  in  Exchange  Alley  aforesaid,  to  drink 
the  drink  thereof  ....  These  are  to  give  notice 
that  the  said  Thomas  Garway  hath  tea  to  sell  from 
i6s.  to  50s.  a  pound." 

Defoe  (1722)  mentions  Garraway's  as  freqiiented 
about  noon  by  people  of  quality  who  had  business 
in  the  City,  and  the  more  considerable  and  wealthy 
citizens.  Dean  Swift,  in  his  ballad  on  the  South 
Sea  Bubble,  calls  Change  Alley  "  a  narrow-  sound 
though  deep  as  hell,"  and  describes  the  wreckers 
watching  for  the  shipwrecked  dead  on  "  Garraway's 
cliffs."  Two  excellent  anecdotes  of  Dr.  Radcliffe, 
the  eminent  physician  of  the  reigns  of  William  III. 
and  Queen  Anne,  connect  him  with  Garraway's. 
The  first  relates  to  Dr.  Hannes,  a  quack,  who  had 
ordered  his  servant  to  stop  a  number  of  gentle- 
men's coaches  between  Whitehall  and  the  Royal 
Exchange,  and  inquire  whether  they  belonged  to 
Dr.  Hannes,  as  if  he  was  called  to  a  patient.  Not 
hearing  of  him  in  any  coach,  the  fellow  ran  up 
into  Exchange  Alley,  and  entering  Garrawa/s  Coifee 
House,  made  the  same  interrogatories  both  above 
and  below.  At  last.  Dr.  Radcliffe,  who  was  usually 
there  about  Exchange  time,  and  planted  at  a  table 
with  several  apothecaries  and  chirurgeons  that 
flocked  about  him,  cried  out,  "  Dr.  Hannes  was 
not  there,"  and  desired  to  know  "Who  wanted 
him?"  The  fellow's  reply  was,  such  a  lord  and 
such  a  lord;  but  he  was  taken  up  with  the  dry 
rebuke,  "  No,  no,  friend,  you  are  mistaken ;  the 
doctor  wants  those  lords." 

"A  famous  physician  (Dr.  Radcliffe)  ventured 
5,000  guineas  upon  a  project  in  the  South  Sea. 
When  he  was  told  at  Garraway's  that  'twas  all  lost, 
'Why,' says  he,  "tis  but  going  up  5,000  pair  of 
stairs  more.'     This  answer  deserved  a  statue.'' 

Steele,  in  the  7«//ifr,' mentions  receiving  some 
French  wine  as  £t  taster  of  216  hogsheads,  to  be 
put  up  at  ;^2o  the  hogshead  at  Garraway's. 

Garraway's  closed  after  a  joyous  existence  of 
216  years.  As  a  place  of  sale,  exchange,  auction, 
and  lo  ttery,  it  was  never  excelled.  Here  tea  was 
first  sold,  and  here  the  South  Sea  Bubblers  met. 

"Jonathan's''  was  another  well-known  Change 
Alley  coffee-house  of  the  old  times.  It  is  described 
in  the  Tatler  as  "the  general  mart  for  stock-job- 
bers;" and  Addison,  in  the  Spectator,  No;  i,  says, 
"  I  sometimes  pass  for  a  Jew  in  the  assembly  of 
stock-jobbers  at  'Jonathan's.' "  Mrs.  Centlivre  has 
laid  one  of  the  scenes  of  her  Bold  Stroke  for  a  Wife 
.at  "  Jonathan's."    While  the  business  goes  on  she 


makes  the  coffee-boys  cry,  "Fresh  coffee,  gentle- 
men !  fresh  coffee  !     Bohea  tea,  gentlemen  !" 

In  Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill,  taken  down  about 
1848  to  build  larger  houses,  Defoe  carried  on  the 
business  of  hose-factor  in  1702,  as  we  learn  from 
the  following  proclamation ; — 

"  St.  James's,  Jan.  10,  1702-3. 

"Whereas  Daniel  De  Foe,  alias  De  Fooe,  is  charged 
with  writing  a  scandalous  and  seditious  pamphlet,  entitled 
'  The  Shortest  Way  with  the  Dissenters. '  He  is  a  middle- 
sized,  spare  man,  about  forty  years  old  ;  of  a  brown  com- 
plexion, and  dark  brown-coloured  hair,  but  wears  a  wig ;  a 
hooked  nose,  a  sharp  chin,  grey  eyes,  and  a  large  mole  near 
his  mouth ;  was  born  in  London,  and  for  many  years  was  a 
hose-factor  in  Freeman's  Yard,  in  Cornhill,  and  now  is  owner 
of  the  brick  and  pantile  works  near  Tilbury  Fort,  in  Essex. 
Whoever  shall  discover  the  said  Daniel  De  Foe  to  one  of 
Her  Majesty's  Principal  Secretaries  of  State,  or  any  of  Her 
Majesty's  Justices  of  Peace,  so  as  he  may  be  apprehended, 
shall  have  a  reward  of  ;^5o,  which  Her  Majesty  has  ordered 
immediately  to  be  paid  upon  such  discovery." 

Finch  Lane  derived  its  name  from  Robert  Finke, 
the  worthy  citizen  who  built  St.  Bennet-Finke,  the 
chui'ch  pulled  down  to  enlarge  the  Exchange. 

Birchin  Lane  is  thus  described  by  Stow,  the 
Herodotus  of  old  London: — "Then  have  ye 
Birchover  Lane,  so  called  of  Birchover,  the  first 
builder  and  owner  thereof,  now  corruptly  called 
Birchin  Lane.  .  .  .  This  lane,  and  the  High  Street, 
near  adjoining,  hath  been  inhabited  for  the  most 
part  with  wealthy  drapers;  from  Birchin  Lane,  on 
that  side  the  street  down  to  the  Stocks,  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  .VI.,  had  ye  for  the  most  part 
dwelling  fripperers  or  upholders,  that  sold  old 
apparel  and  household  stuffs." 

Dekker,  in  his  "  Gull's  Horn  Book,"  speaks  of 
the  whalebone  doublets  of  Birchin  Lane ;  and 
one  of  Middleton's  characters  purchases  there  "a 
captain's  suit,  a  valiant  buff  doublet,  stuffed  with 
points,  and  a  pair  of  velvet  slops  scored  thick 
with  lace."  In  Strype's  time  Birchin  Lane  was 
still  famous  for  old  clothes.  Garrick,  always  a 
strategist,  kept  up  his  interest  in  the  City,  says  Sir 
John  Hawkins,  by  appearing  about  twice  a  winter 
at  Tom's  Coffee  House,  Birchin  Lane,  the  usual 
rendezvous  of  young  merchants  at  'Change  time. 
Poor  Chatterton,  writing  to  his  sister.  May  30, 1770, 
with  his  usual  air  of  feigned  success,  says,  "  There 
is  such  a  noise  of  business  and  politics  in  the  room 
(Tom's)  that  my  inaccuracy  in  writing  here  is 
highly  excusable.  My  present  profession  obliges 
me  to  frequent  places  of  the  best  resort." 

Some  London  streets  seem  determined  never  to 
distinguish  themselves.  No  medieval  scuffle  has 
ever  occurred  in  them ;  no  celebrated  church  hoards 
its  monuments ;  no  City  hall  cherishes  its  relics 
there ;  no  celebrated  person  has  honoured  it  by 


174 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tfiracechurcli  Strtaf. 


birth  or  death.  Gracechurch  Street  is  one  of  these 
unambitious  streets.  It  derived  its  name,  says 
Stow,  from  the  grass  or  herb  market  there  kept  in 
old  time,  and  which  gave  its  name  to  the  parish 
church  of  St.  Bennet. 

St.  Bennet  Gracechurch,  described  by  Stow,  was 
destroyed  in  the  Great  Fire,  and  another  structure, 
recently  pulled  down,  erected  from  Wren's  designs 
in  1685.  It  is  now  united  with  the  parishes  of 
Allhallows,    Lombard   Street,   and   St.    Leonard's, 


"  There  was  one  Banks,  in  the  time  of  Tarlton, 
who  served  the  Earl  of  Essex,  and  had  a  horse  of 
strange  qualities,  and  being  at  the  '  Crosse  Keyes ' 
in  Gracious  Streete,  getting  money  with  him,  as 
he  was  mightily  resorted  to,  Tarlton  then,  with  \ds 
fellowes,  playing  at  the  '  Bel '  by,  came  into  the 
'Crosse  Keyes,'  amongst  many  people,  to  see 
fashions,  which  Banks  perceiving,  to  make  the 
people  laugh,  saies,  '  Signior,'  to  his  horse,  'go 
fetch  me  the  veriest  fool  in  the  company.'    The 


garraway's  coffee-house.     {From  a  Sketch  taken  shortly  before  its  DemolUim.) 


Eastcheap.  The  register,  says  Cunningham,  records 
the  following  burial: — "1559,  April  14,  Robert 
Burges,  a  common  player,"  probably  from  the 
theatre  in  the  yard  of  the  "  Cross  Keys."  In 
Gracechurch  Street,  Tarlton,  the  favourite  clown  of 
Elizabeth's  time,  a  droll,  short,  flat-nosed  fellow, 
who  sang  comic  songs  to  the  music  of  a  pipe  and 
tabor  (he  was  probably  the  representative  of  Touch- 
stone, and  others  of  Shakespeare's  jesters),  lodged 
at  the  sign  of  the  "  Saba,"  probably  to  be  near  the 
"  Cross  Keys."  He  was  chosen  scavenger  by  the 
ward,  and  was  constantly  complained  of  for  not 
keeping  the  streets  clean.  In  the  old  book  called 
"  Tarlton's  Jests,"  an  early  "  Joe  Miller,"  the  fol- 
lowing story  is  toid  of  this  street  :— 


jade  comes  immediately,  and  with  his  mouth  draws 
Tariton  forth.  Tarlton,  with  merry  words,  said 
nothing  but  '  God  a  mercy,  horse  !'  .  .  .  .  Ever 
after  it  was  a  by-word  through  London,  'God  a 
mercy,  horse  !'  ajid  is  to  this  day." 

Taylor,  the  water  poet,  in  his  little  directory, 
the  "Carriers'  Cosmographie "  (1637),  mentions 
the  "Tabard,  near  the  Conduit,"  and  the  "Spread 
Eagle,"  both  in  "  Gracious  Street."  In  White  Hart 
Court  was  a  Quakers'  meeting-house,  and  here,  in 
1690,  at  the  house  of  Henry  Goldney,  died  that 
strange,  but  honest  fanatic,  George  Fox,  the  founder 
of  the  sect.  Fox  was  the  son  of  a  Leicestershire 
weaver,  and  being  "  converted  "  at  nineteen,  betook 
himself  to  itinerant  preaching.     He  was  examined 


ffencliitfct  Streel.5 


DENMARK  HOUSE. 


»75 


by  Cromwell  on  one  occasion,  and  kindly  treated  ; 
and  on  the  rumour  that  Oliver  was  going  to  make 
himself  king,  Fox  went  to  him  and  personally  re- 
monstrated. Fox  preached  at  this  meeting-house 
in  White  Hart  Court  only  a  few  days  before  his 
death.    Penn  says  of  Fox  that  he  had  an  extra- 


"  Throw  but  a  stone,  the  giant  dies."    A  happy 
image,  in  singularly  small  compass. 

Fenchurch  Street,  another  thoroughfare  scanty  in 
memories,  and  therefore  still  open  for  future  fame, 
took  its  name  from  the  marshy  ground  on  the 
banks  of  the  Langbourne.     Indeed,  even  in  Stow's 


INTERIOR  OF  CLOTHWORKERS'   HALL. 


ordinary  gift  in  "  opening  "  the  Scriptures,  and  that 
above  all  he  excelled  in  prayer.  In  Nag's  Head 
Court  died,  in  1737,  Matthew  Green,  the  hypo- 
^chondriacal  author  of  "  The  Spleen."  He  held 
a  post  in  the  Custom  House,  and  was  nephew  to  a 
clerk  of  Fishmongers'  Hall.  His  pleasant  poem 
was  posthumous,  and  was  printed  by  "  Leonidas  " 
Glover.  It  was  approved  by  Pope  and  Gray,  and 
will  certainly  live,  if  only  for  the  celebrated  line — 


time,  the  ward  was  called  Langbourne  or  Fennie- 
about ;  yet  at  that  date  some  crotchety  antiquaries 
insisted  that  it  was  called  Fenchurch  from  fcBnum, 
or  hay  sold  there,  as  Gracechurch  from  its  grass 
and  herbs. 

In  this  street,  which  runs  from  Gracechurch  to 
Aldgate,  formerly  stood  Denmark  House,  the  resi' 
dence,  in  the  reign  of  Philip  and  Mary  (1557), 
of  the  first  Russian  ambassador  sent  to  England. 


176 


OLD  And  new  londoM. 


jfencliurch  Street. 


The  Russian  Company  had  just  started,  and  our 
merchants,  eager  for  barbaric  furs,  gold,  and  amber, 
treated  the  Muscovite  duke's  envoy  with  prudent 
respect.  They  met  Iiim,  with  their  velvet  gowns 
and  gold  chains,  at  Tottenham.  -At  Islington 
Lord  Montacute,  the  Queen's  pensioner,  welcomed 
his  approach,  and  at  the  same  place  the  Lord 
Mayor  and  aldermen,  in  a  blaze  of  scarlet,  came 
up,  and  accompanied  him  to  Master  Dimmocks'  in 
Fenchurch  Street. 

Of  all  London  saints  perhaps  St.  Dionis  or 
Dionysius,  the  Areopagite,  is  the  least  honoured ; 
and  yet  St.  Dionis  was  the  St.  Denis  of  France. 
St.  Dionis  is  called  Backchurch,  as  some  think,  from 
there  having  originally  been  a  church  to  St.  Gabriel 
in  the  centre  of  the  roadway,  behind  which  stood 
St.  Dionis ;  but  this  is  doubtful.  This  church, 
mentioned  as  early  as  1288,  was  rebuilt  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  VI.,  and  again  after  the  Great  Fire 
under  Wren's  supervision.  The  Ionic  columns, 
carved  pulpit,  and  motley  altar-piece  need  no  de- 
scription. Near  the  communion-table  is  an  ugly 
granite  monument  to  Sir  Arthur  Ingram,  a  Spanish 
merchant,  who  gave  his'  name  to  Ingram  Court 
•  in  this  street,  and  was  a  great  benefactor  to  the 
church.  In  the  vestry  they  preserve  as  interesting 
relics  four  large  syringes  (such  as  they  now  use  in 
Constantinople),  the  only  machines  formerly  known 
for  extinguishing  fires.  They  are  rather  more  than 
two  feet  long,  and  were  fastened  by  straps  to  the 
body  of  the  firemen..    The  towet  is  forty  feet  high. 

At  the  "King's  Head"  Tavern,  No.  53,  Fen- 
church Street,  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  when  released 
from  the  Tower  by  her  harsh  sister  Mary,  is  said 
to  have  dined,  after  attending  divine  service  at 
the  church  of  AUhallows  Staining,  in  Mark  Lane. 
The  young  lady,  always  a  fair  trencherwoman, 
exulting  in  freedom  and  fresh  air,  partook  freely  of 
pork  and  peas.  This  royal  act  of  condescension 
was  celebrated  till  quite  recently  by  an  annual 
dinner  of  the  chief  parishioners.  In  the  coffee- 
room  they  still  show,  with  honest  pride,  the  metal 
dish  and  cover  said  to  have  been  occupied  by  the 
afore-mentioned  peas  and  pork,  and  an  engraved 
portrait  of  the  young  princess  by  Holbein.  Another 
legend  has  it  that  the  princess,  on  quitting  AU- 
hallows, gave  the  clerk  a  handsome  fee,  which  he 
celebrated  by  an  annual  dinner  given  to  his  chief 
patrons.    '    ' 

The  Church  of  St.  Margaret  Pattens  was  so  called 
(says  Stow)  because  pattens  were  usually  made  and 
sold  in  this  neighbourhood,  but  more  probably,  we 
think,  from  the  church  being  specially  decorated 
(altar  or  roof)  with  such  "  patines  of  bright  gold  " 
as  those  to  which  Shakespeare,  in  the  Merchant 


of  Venice,  compares  the  stars.  The  venerable  shade 
of  Stow  will  forgive  us  this  trifling  rebelHon  to 
his  dictum.  This  church  is  mentioned  as  early  as 
1344,  was  in  Whittington's  gift,  and  was  rebuilt 
after  the  Great  Fire.  In  1538,  the  rood,  having 
been  left  in  the  churchyard  to  receive  oblations, 
was  destroyed  by  some  too  zealous  Reformer. 
The  altar-piece  is  by  Carlo  Maratti.  The  great 
antiquary.  Dr.  Birch,  rector  of  the  parish  nearly 
nineteen  years,  is  buried  here.  Above  the  altar 
are  some  finely-carved  flowers. 

In  Fenchurch  Street,  on  the  site  of  Northum- 
berland Alley,  stood  the  first  town  residence  of 
the  Earls  of  Northumberland.  The  gardens  were 
afterwards  converted  into  bowHng-alleys  for  all 
comers. 

St.  Catherine  Coleman,  close  to  where  Northum- 
berland House  once  stood,  derived  its  name  frofn 
a  large  garden  belonging  to  one  Coleman  (date 
uncertain).  This  church  escaped  the  Great  Fire, 
and  was  rebuilt  in  1734. 

Pepys  has  the  following  interesting  allusion  to 
Fenchurch  Street,  in  connection  with  the  TPlague. 
"June  10,  1665,"  he  says,  "to  my  great  trouble, 
hear  that  the  Plague  is  come  into  the  City  (though 
it  hath  these  three  or  four  weeks  since  its  beginning 
been  wholly  out  of  the  City) ;  but  where  should  it 
begin  but  in  my  good  friend  and  neighbour's.  Dr. 
Burnett,  in  Fenchurch  Street ;  which,  in  both  points, 
troubles  me  mightily. 

"June  II. — I  saw  poor  Dr.  Burnett's  door  sliut; 
but  he  hath,  I  hear,  gained  great  good-will  among 
his  neighbours,  for  he  discovered  it  himself  first, 
and  caused  himself  to  be  shut  up  of  his  own  accord ; 
which  was  very  handsome."  ; 

Out  of  respect  to  Fenchurch  Street,  we  may 
mention  its  small  tributary,  Billiter  Street,  a  name 
corrupted  from  Belzettar,  a  forgotten  builder  or 
owner.  Strype  describes  the  place  as  consisting 
of  poor  and,  ordinary  houses,  formerly  inhabited 
by  needy,  beggarly  people.  The  inhabitants  were 
then  brokers  and  chandlers,  residing  in  very  old 
and  ruinous  timber  houses.  The  chief  ornament 
of  it  was  Billiter  Square,  which  Strype  describes  as 
"a  very  handsome,  open,  and  airy  place,  graced 
with  good  new-brick  buildings  very  well  inhabited." 

Ironmongers'  Hall  in  Fenchurch  Street  is  a  build- 
ing with  a  history  and  traditions  of  its  own.  The 
iron  that  supplied  London  in  the  Middle  Ages  was 
chiefly  worked  in  Sussex,  Surrey,  and  Kent. 

The  earliest  account,  says  Mr.  Herbert,  we  have 
of  the  Ironmongers  as  a  guild  is  in  the  37th  year 
of  Edward  III.,  when  on  occasion  of  the  various 
mysteries  making  their  offerings  to  the  king  for 
carrying  on  his  French  wars,  the  Ironmongers  sub- 


Fenchurch  Street.] 


MINCING  lane; 


177 


scribed  ;^6  i8s.  4d.  The  same  Company,  in  the 
50th  of  Edward  III.,  sent  four  of  their  members  to 
the  Common  Council.  Near  this  period,  and  for  a 
long  time  afterwards,  the  Ironmongers  appear  to 
have  united  the  professions  both  of  merchant  and 
trader,  for,  whilst-  they  had  large  warehouses  and 
yards,  whence  they  exported  and  sold  bar-iron  and 
iron  rods,  they  had  also  shops,  wherein  they  dis- 
played abundance  of  manufactured  articles,  which 
they  purchased  from  the  workmen  in  town  and 
country,  and  of  which  they  afterwards  became  the 
general  retailers.  Ironmonger  Lane  was  one  of 
the  first  spots  on  which  the  trade  congregated. 
Many  of  the  rich  Ironmongers  were  buried  in  the 
church  of  the  adjacent  united  parishes  of  St.  Olave 
Jewry  and  St.  Martin,  Ironmonger  Lane. 

The  Ironmongers  were  incorporated  in  the  3rd 
of  Edward  IV.,  their  arms  having  been  granted 
to  them  several  years  before.  Their  records  are 
ancient ;  their  first  court-book  commences  in  1541, 
but  they  have  documents  and  records  of  a  still 
earlier  date.  Some  of  the  entries  are  curious,  and 
of  these  we  select  a  few  of  the  most  interesting. 
In  1562,  they  provide  19  soldiers  for  the  Queen's 
service;  1565,  pay  ^^^  towards  building  the 
Royal  Exchange;  1566,  provide  three  soldiers  for 
the  Queen's  service,  Ireland;  1575,  they  lend  the 
Queen  ;^6o ;  1577,  supply  100  men  as  soldiers; 
1578,  provide  seven  seamen;  1579,  provide  73 
men  for  the  defence  of  the  kingdom;  159T,  con- 
tribute ;^344  to  help  send  forth  ten  ships  of  war 
and  a  pinnace;  1596,  lend  Government  ;^i72; 
1630,  pay  ;£s$  i6s.,  being  their  proportion  of  a 
fine  exacted  from  the  City  for  not  apprehending  the 
murderers  of  John  Lamb  (see  Vol.  I.,  page  431) ; 

1642,  pay  for  the  service  of  Parliament  ;£^3,4oo ; 

1643,  pay  Parliament  ;£g  los.  every  week  for  four 
months,  and  sell  their  plate  to  try  to  raise  .;^i,7oo 
to  help  Parliament. 

The  ancient  livery  hood  was  crimson  and  puce. 
In  choosing  wardens  it  was  usual  at  the  election 
dinner  to  bring  in  garlands,  preceded  by  minstrels, 
and  try  them  on  each  person,  till  they  arrived  at 
the  stewards-elect.  Worthy  Mr.  Evelyn  (Septem- 
ber 4,  1671)  mentions  this  ceremony,  and  describes 
how  the  solemn  procession  came  to  the  upper  table 
and  drank  to  the  new  stewards. 

The  present  Ironmongers'  Hall  is  the  third  or 
fourth  building  erected  on  the  same  site.  The 
present  hall  was  designed  by  T.  Holden,  in  1748. 
It  was  then  a  handsome  stone  building,  with  a 
rustic  base  and  Ionic  pilasters,  balustraded  roof, 
and  carved  tympanum.  The  vestibule  was  divided 
by  six  Tuscan  columns,  and  the  state  room  was 
adorned  with  Ionic  ornaments,  an  orchestra  and 


grand  buffet.  The  master  and  wardens'  chairs 
stood  against  the  west  wall,  in  front  of  the  king's 
arms,  while  the  blue  semi-oval  ceiling  was  stuccoed 
with  heraldic  bearings,  satyrs'  heads,  cornucopias, 
palm-branchej,  flowers,  and  scrolls.  The  ban- 
queting-hall  has  since  been  decorated  in  the  Louis 
Quatorze  taste,  in  papier-mache  and  carton-pierre 
imitative  oak  aided  by  oak  carvings.  The  hall 
contains  portraits  of  Mr.  Thomas  Betton  (a  Turkey 
merchant,  who  left  ;!^26,ooo).  Sir  Robert  Geffery 
(giver  of  the  Company's  almshouses  in  the  Kings- 
land  Road),  Sir  James  Cambell,  and  other  bene- 
factors,'and  a  fine  full-length  of  Lord  Hood,  by 
Gainsborough,  given  by  that  admiral  to  the  Com- 
pany, in  1783,  when  his  lordship  was  received 
into  the  Company  without  fee  or  previous  nomi- 
nation. The  Ironmongers'  arms  are  argent,  on  a 
chevron  gules,  three  swivels  or  between  three  steel 
gads  azure;  crest  on  a  wreath,  two  scaly  lizards, 
erect,  combatant  proper  {i.e.,  vert) ;  motto,  "  God 
is  our  strength."  The  lizards  should,  properly  be 
salamanders,  but  the  Ironmongers  insist  on  the 
lizards,  and  even  named  their  Irish  estate  after 
them. 

Mincing  Lane  was  so  called  from  houses  there 
belonging  to  the  "  Minchuns,"  or  nuns,  of  St. 
Helen's,  Bishopsgate  Street.  Of  old  time  (says 
Stow)  there  dwelt  in  this  lane  Genoese  traders 
called  "galleymen,"  because  they  brought  their 
wines  and  other  merchandise  to  Galley  Wharf,  in 
Thames  Street.  They  used  amongst  themselves 
small  silver  halfpence  called,  in  London,  "galley 
halfpence,"  forbidden  by  Act  of  Parliament  in  the 
reigns  of  Henry  IV.  and  Henry  VI.  These  coins 
were  broader  than  English  halfpence,  but  not  so 
thick  and  strong. 

Mincing  Lane  is  specially  mentioned  by  Pepys, 
apropos  of  the  Great  Fire  : — "19th  June,  1668,"  he 
says,  "  between  two  and  three  in  the  morning  we 
were  waked  with  the  maids  crying  out,  '  Fire,  fire, 
in  Marke  Lane !'  So  I  rose  and  looked  out,  and 
it  was  dreadful,  and  strange  apprehensions  in  me 
and  us  all  of  being  presently  burnt.  So  we  all  rose, 
and  my  care  presently  was  to  secure  my  gold  and 
plate  and  papers,  and  could  quickly  have  done  it, 
but  I  went  forth  to  see  where  it  was;  and  the 
whole  town  was  presently  in  the  streets ;  and  I 
found  it  in  a  new-built  house  that  stood  alone  in 
Minchin  Lane,  over  against  the  Clothworkers'  Hall, 
which  burned  furiously;  the  house  not  yet  quite 
finished ;  and  the  benefit  of  brick  was  well  seen, 
for  it  burnt  all  inward,  and  fell  down  within  itself; 
so  no  fear  of  doing  more  hurt.'' 

The  original  Clothworkers'  Hall,  in  Mincing 
Lane,  was  purchased  by  the  Fullers,  in  the  year  1455 


I?: 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Fenchurch  Street.  , 


(Henry  VI.),  ever  to  remain  in  their  fellowship. 
The  spot  is  remarkable  as  the  boundary  of  the 
Great  Fire  of  London,  which  partly  destroyed  the 
hall.  Pepys  speaks  of  the  building  as  being  "  in 
one  body  of  flame  for  three  days  and  nights,  the 
cellars  being  full  of  oil."  ■ 

The  Clothworkers,  says  Herbert,  seem  to  have 
sprung,  like  the  Fullers,  from  the  very  ancient 
guild  of  Weavers.  The  trade  had  formerly  several 
subdivisions,  of  which  the  Fullers,  the  Burrellers, 
and  the  Testers  were  the  chief  The  Burrellers  were 
inspectors  and  measurers  of  cloth.  In  the  reign 
of  Edward  IV.  the  Shearmen  were  separated  from 
the  Drapers  and  Tailors,  and  were  incorporated. 
Henry  VII.  granted  them  additional  privileges, 
and  Henry  VIII.  united  them  with  the  Fullers, 
and  gave  the  joint  fraternity  the  name  of  Cloth- 
workers.  There  were  endless  disputes  between 
the  Clothworkers  and  Dyers  for  precedence,  till  at 
last  the  Clothworkers  settled  down  as  twelfth  and 
last  of  the  great  companies,  and  the  Dyers  took 
rank  as  first  of  the  minor  ones.  Shearmen,  the  old 
title  of  the  Clothworkers,  had  no  reference  to  re- 
moving the  wool  from  the  sheep,  but  appUed  to  the 
manner  of  clipping  the  nap  in  the  process  of  cloth 
manufacture.  The  Clothworkers  are  especially 
mentioned  in  a  statute  concerning  the  woollen 
manufacture,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  which 
contained  clauses  requiring  the  clothiers'  seal  on 
cloth,  and  forbidding  over-stretching,  and  adding 
chalk,  or  flour,  or  starch,  and  the  use  of  iron  cards. 
Queen  Elizabeth  confirmed  the  right  of  the  Cloth- 
workers, and  Charles  I.  (who,  as  well  as  his  father, 
was  a  member  of  the  fraternity)  confirmed  their 
charter.  There  were  five  degrees  in  the  Com- 
pany— apprentices,  freemen  (also  called  yeomen 
and  bachelors),  householders,  the  fellowship,  and 
wardens.  The  government  consisted  of  a  court 
of  assistants,  including  only  those  who  had  been 
masters  and  wardens. 

Pepys  himself  was  a  member  of  this  Company, 
and  left  it  a  quaint  and  valuable  old  cup,  which 
still  shines  out  among  the  meaner  plate,  on  the 
occasion  of  grand  dinners,  "  when  beards  wag  all." 
The  hall,  after  the  Great  Fire,  seems  to  have  been 
restored  with  green  wood,  which  soon  fell  into 
decay.  It  must  have  been  a  fine  building,  for 
the  banqueting-hall  was  a  lofty  wainscoted  room, 
adorned  with  a  great  oak  screen,  with  figures  of 
James  I.  and  Charles  I.,  and  two  stained-glass 
windows.  These  windows  contained,  among  other 
devices,  the  arms  of  Pepys  and  Sir  John  Robinson. 
The  latter  worthy  was  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  Pre- 
sident of  the  Artillery  Company,  and  Lord  Mayor 
in  1663,  when  he  entertained,  in  Clothworkers'  Hall, 


Charles  II.  and  his  Queen,  the  Queen-Dowager, 
and  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  York.  Mr.  Samuel 
Angell  was  the  architect  of  the  new  hall,  which 
occupies  the  old  position  in  Mincing  Lane.  It  was 
completed  in  i860,  and  is  now,  with  its  fine  oak 
carving  and  splendid  mirrors,  a  good  specimen  of 
a  Company's  Hall — the  ceiling,  in  white  and  gold, 
being  ornamented  in  a  rather  unusual,  but  most 
tasteful  manner,  with  life-size  figures  in  relief.  At 
one  end  of  the  hall  stand  the  statues  of  James  I. 
and  Charles  I.,  very  dazzling  in  their  covering  of 
pure  gilding.  The  ground  on  which  the  hall  is 
built  has  been  enlarged  by  the  addition  of  a  very 
large  piece  of  land  purchased  by  the  Company 
quite  recently.  This  is  the  site  of  the  old  church 
and  graveyard  of  Allhallows  Staining.  The  body 
of  the  church  itself  has  been  pulled  down,  and  its 
place  is  occupied  by  houses  built  ajd  let  on  lease 
to  tenants.  The  churchyard  is  to  remain  as  an 
open  space,  and  will  still  admit  air  and  light  to 
the  hall.  But  the  old  tower  still  remains ;  the 
Company,  by  arrangement  with  the  Ecclesiastical 
Commissioners,  being  bound  not  only  not  to  de- 
molish it,  but  to  keep  it  in  repair.  Anything  more 
absurd  than  this  restriction  cannot  be  imagined. 
The  crumbling  old  tower  is  not  by  any  means 
ornamental,,  and  it  can  serve  no  purpose  on  earth 
except  that  of  obstructing  and  incommoding  the 
property  of  the  Company.  The  real  estates  held 
by  this  Company  are  very  large,  and  comprise  a 
great  deal  of  valuable  house  property  in  London. 
The  Irish  estates  were  let  as  far  back  as  1769  for 
;^6oo  per  annum,  and  a  fine  of  ;^28,ooo.  They 
have,  however,,  been  sold  since  the  last  rebuilding 
of  the  hall.  The  Company  have  schools  at  Sutton 
Valence,  in  Kent,  and  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  and 
alms'houses  at  Sutton  Valence,  in  Islington,  and 
other  places.  The  charities  were-  estimated  in 
1836  at'  about  ;^i,400  per  annum,  but  they  are 
now  vastly  increased.  This  Company  has  num- 
bered many  royal  personages-  among  its  members, 
and  among  them  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the 
Duke  of  Cambridge.  Prince  Albert  was  also  a 
member,  and  the  Company  have  a  large  picture  of 
his  late  Royal  Highness,  with  a  sister  pairiting  of 
Her  Majesty,  executed  by  Herrick  in'  1863.  In 
proof  of  the  honour  in  which  the  Clothworkers 
were  held  two  centuries  ago,  we  may  quote  the 
words  of  the  panegyrist,  Elkanah  Settie:— "The 
grandeur  of  England  is  to  be  attributed  to  its 
golden  fleece  (which  is  the  crest  of  this  Company), 
the  wealth  of  the  loom  making  England  a  second 
Peru,  and  the  back  of  the  sheep,  and  not  the 
entrails  of  the  earth,  being  its  chief  mine  of  riches. 
The  silkworm  is  no  spinster  of  ours,  and  our  wheel 


Fenchurch  Street  ] 


THE  CORN  EXCHANGE. 


179 


and  web  are  wholly  the  Clothworkers'.  Thus,  as 
trade  is  the  soul  of  the  kingdom,  so  the  greatest 
branch  of  it  lies  in  the  Clothworkers'  hands ;  and 
though  our  naval  commerce  brings  us  in  both  the 
er  and  the  argmt,  and  indeed:  the  whole  wealth  of 
the  world,  yet,  when  thoroughly  examined,  it  will 
be  found  'tis  your  cloth  sends  out  to  fetch  them. 
And  thus,  whilst  the  Imperial  Britannia  is  so  for- 
midable to  her  foes  and  so  potent  to  her  friends, 
...  to  the  Clothworkers'  honour  it  may  justly  be 
said,  "Tis  your  shuttle  nerves  her  arm,  and  your 
woof  tliat  enrobes  her  glory.' " 

Howes  relates  that  "  James  I.,  being  in  the  open 
Hall,  inquired  who  was  .master  of  the  Company  j 
and  the  Lord  Mayor  answering,  'Sir  William 
Stone,'  to  whom  the  king  said,  "  Wilt  thou  make  me 
free  of  the  Clothworkers  ?'  '  Yea,'  quoth  the  master, 
*  and  think  myself  a  happy  man  that  I  live  to  see 
this  day.'  Then  the  king  said,  'Stone,  give  me 
thy  hand ;  and  now.Ji^m  a  Clothworker.' " 
i  The  Clothworkers'  arms,  granted  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VIII.,  are  sable,  a  chevron  ermine  between 
two  habrieks,  in  chief  argent,  and  a  thistle  in  base, 
or ;  crest,  a  ram  passant,  or ;  supporters,  two  griffins, 
or;  pellette.     Motto — "  My  trust  is  in  God  alone."' 

At  the  north-east  corner  of  Mark  Lane,  says 
Stow,  was  the  manor  of  a  knight  of  Richard  II., 
called  by  the  pretty  name  of  Blanch  Appleton, 
afterwards  corrupted  into  Blind  Chapel  Court.  In 
the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  basket-makers  and  wire- 
drawers  were  allowed  to  practise  their  trade  in 
Blanch  Appleton.  Mark  Lane  was  originally  called 
Mart  Lane,  from  some  fair  of  uncertain  date  there 
estabUshed. 

The  Church  of  Allhallows,  standing  in  Mark 
Lane,  recently  pulled  down  by  the  Clothworkers' 
Company  to  enlarge  their  hall,  was  given,  in  1367, 
by  the  Bishop  of  London  to  the  Abbey  and  Convent 
of  our  Lady  of  Grace,  near  the  Tower  of  London. 
The  right  of  presentation  eventually  came  into  the 
possession  of  the  Grocers'  Company.  According 
to  Stow,  the  church  was  called  Stane  or  Stayning, 
'o  distinguish  it  at  an  early  period  when  many 
London  churches  were  erected  of  timber.  The 
churchwardens'  books  of  Allhallows  are  perfect 
from  as  far  back  as  1491,  and  abound  with  some 
interesting  facts  as  to  prices  and  manners  and 
customs.  In  1492  the  great  beam  light  of  thei 
church  is  mentioned  as  weighing  more  than  40 
pounds,  and  cost  id.  the  pound.  In  1587  there 
is  a  shilling  paid  to  the  ringers  for  expressing  joy 
at  the  execution  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  In 
1606  a  shilling  is  paid  for  painting  three  red 
crosses  on  the  doors  of  houses  infected  with  the 
plague.     In  the  Great  Plague  of  1665,  .165  persons 


died  in  the  parish,  and  that  year  ;^3  17  s.  6d.  is 
paid  for  street  fires  to  purify  the  air,  In  1688, 
the  ringers  are  paid  for  exptessing  joy  at  King 
James's  return  from  Faversham,  and  two  days  after 
for  more  joy  at  the  Prince  of  Orange's  arrival,  for 
the  purpose  of  dethroning  James  !  The  church 
escaped  the  Great  Fure,  but,  as  if  tired  of  standing, 
fell  down  suddenly  in  1671,  nearly  burying  a  sexton 
who  was  digging  a  grave.  The  tower  contains  six 
bells,  the  greater  number  of  which  are  dated 
1682-3.  Two  of  them,  however,  are  much  older. 
Malcolm  says  the  date  upon  one  is  1485. 

The  Corn  Exchange  in  Mark  Lane  was  projected 
and  opened  in  1747.  A  new  Exchange  was  re- 
built by  Mr.  G.  Smith  in  1827,  and  opened  the  next 
year.  It  is  now  again  proposed  to  rebuild  it.  On 
building  the  second  Corn  Exchange  a  fine  Roman 
pavement  was  discovered.  The  old  Exchange, 
still  standing  in  Mark  Lane,  has  an  open  colonnade 
with  modern  Doric  pillars.  The  factors  have 
stands  in  the  interior  court,  which  has  been  com- 
pared to  the  atrium,  or  place  of  audience,  of  a 
Pompeian  house.  The  New  Corn  Exchange  is 
in  the  Grecian  and  Doric  style.  The  interior 
is  lighted  by  a  lantern  with  vertical  lights  in 
the  centre  space  within  the  columns,  and  the 
compartments  on  each  side  have  skylights  in  their 
ceilings.  The  stands  of  the  corn-factors,  to  the 
number  of  eighty  and  upwards,  are  along  the 
sides  of  the  building.  On  them  are  placed  small 
bags  and  wooden  bowls,  with  samples  of  different 
kinds  of  grain,  and  behind  is  a  desk  for  the  factor 
or  his  clerk,  with  something  of  the  convenience 
of  a  counting-house.  Lightermen  and  granary- 
keepers  have  stands  as  well  as  corn-merchants, 
factors,  and  millers.  The  seed-market  is  held  in 
another  part  of  the  building.  In  the  north  wing  is 
a  tavern  and  coffee-room,  and  an  opening  in  the 
south  side  of  the  wing  communicates  with  the  old 
Com  Exchange. 

As  some  London  corn  merchants  were  said,  as 
far  back  as  thirty  years  ago,  to  turn  over  in  a 
year  nearly  a  million  and  a  half  of  money,  it 
may  be  supposed  that  Mark  Lane  is  a  strictly 
busy  place,  and  that  the  factors  there  do  not 
scoop  up  handfuls  of  com  or  toss  wheat  up 
in  the  air  for  mere  amusement.  In  two  months 
alone  in  1841  there  arrived  in  London  787  vessels 
from  foreign  ports,  laden  with  foreign  corn,  a  fact 
which  proves  the  ceaseless  cry  for  bread  of  hungry 
England,  unable  to  fully  supply  its  own  wants,  and 
dependent  on  the  energy  of  the  Mark  Lane  dealers. 

In  the  Middle  Ages,  London,  a  mere  bantling 
then,  with  no  great  appetite,  depended  in  simple 
faith  for  corn  on  Kent  and  Essex  alone.     In  Stow's 


i8o 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Fenchurch  Street. 


time  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  Essex,  Kent,  and  Sussex 
were  the  chief  competitors  in  the  London  com 
trade.  Speculators  in  corn  were  looked  upon  in 
old  times  with  suspicion,  and  even  detestation; 
while  regraters,  or  holders  back  of  corn,  were 
formeirly  branded  as  ruthless  enemies  of  the  human 
race.  In  1542  corn  dealers  were  prohibited  having 
more  than  ten  quarters  in  their  possession  at  one 
time,  and  justices  could  examine  a  farmer's  barns 
and  sell  the  superfluous  stock.     Heavy  penalties 


Simon  Eyre,  another  Lord  Mayor,  established  a 
public  granary,  such  as  Joseph  did  in  Egypt,  at 
Leadenhall.  In  152 1  a  mayor  found  the  City 
granaries  nearly  empty,  and  had  to  lay  in  a  pro- 
vision of  wheat.  In  1546  two  aldermen  were  ap- 
pointed weekly  in  rotation  to  see  that  the  markets 
were  well  suppHed.  When,  prices  rose  the  com- 
panies were  compelled  to  send  in  for  sale  certain 
specified  quantities  of  com,  and  then  to  provide 
a  fresh  stock.      In   1590,  they  were  called  on, 


'look  Fire  tvjici 


CORN      HILL 


PLAN   SHOWING  THE   EXTENT  OF  THE  GREAT   FIRE  IN   CORNHILL   IN    I748.       (Seepage  I72.) 


were  inflicted  two  years  afterwards  on  persons  who 
bought  corn  to  sell  again.  Farmers  buying  corn 
for  seed  were  required  to  sell  an  equal  quantity  of 
store  corn ;  while  com  dealers  were  required  to 
take  out  an  annual  licence,  and  not  to  engross  or 
forestall,  or  buy  out  of  open  market,  except  under 
an  express  permission. 

Dearths  frequently  occurring  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  the  livery  companies  were  required  to  keep 
stores  of  corn,  as  we  have  already  mentioned  in 
previous  chapters.  Sir  Stephen  Brown  is  the  first 
Lord  Mayor  praised  by  Stow  for  sending  to 
Dantzic  for  cheap  corn  in  time  of  scarcity,  and  Sir 


at  two  different  periods,  to  purchase  18,000 
quarters.  The  Bridgemaster  had  the  charge  of 
buying  the  corn,  which  was  at  one  period  entirely 
stored  in  the  Bridge  House.  The  money  to  purchase 
the  grain  for  the  City  granaries  was  raised  by  loans 
and  contributions  from  the  mayor  and  aldermen,  the 
City  companies,  and  sometimes  from  the  citizens. 
The  companies  often  grumbled,  clamoured  for  a 
return  of  their  money,  and  were  sometimes  paid  in 
store  com,  which  they  by  no  means  wanted.  In 
1596  the  companies  built  their  own  granaries,  and 
were  allowed  to  keep  their  supply  there.  The 
difficulty  with  the  companies  grew  worse  and  worse, 


Fenchurch  Street,] 


VEXATIOUS  RESTRICTIONS. 


and  the  refusals  to  buy  corn  became  more  frequent, 
till  at  last  the  Great  Fire,  that  fierce  reformer  of 
many  abuses,  swept  away  the  Bridge  House  and 
all  the  other  granaries,  and  thus  at  last  the  custom 
of  laying  up  corn  and  interfering  with  the  natural 
balance  of  trade  ceased  altogether.- 

The  German  Steel  Yard  merchants  were  at  one 
period  the  sole  importers  of  foreign  corn,  and  in 
times  of  scarcity  were  not  allowed  to  sell  either  to 
bakers  or  brewers  without  the  City's  licence. 


each  of  whom  had  three  men  under  him.  The 
chief  corn-markets  of  London  were  Cornhill  and 
Michael-le-Quern,  at  the  west  end  of  Cheapside. 
Bread  Street  was  the  mediaeval  bakers'  market.  The 
.Fellowship  of  Bakers  held  four  hall-motes  during 
the  year,  to  punish  offences  of  their  craft.  In  1370 
a  Stratford  baker,  for  selling  loaves  smaller  than 
the  assize,  was  drawn  on  a  hurdle  through  London 
streets  with  a  fool's  cap  on  his  head,  while  round 
his  neck  dangled  his  nieagre  loaves. 


THE  OLD  INDIA  OFFICE,    LEADENHALL   STREET,    IN    1803. 


In  one  special  year  bakers  were  forbidden  to  buy 
any  meal,  except  at  the  City's  store,  the  Bridge 
House,  where  the  quantity  each  might  take,  and 
the  price,  were  fixed  by  the  Lord  Mayor.  Such 
were  the  fetters  in  which  trade  had  to  move  in  the 
time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  so  many  feudal 
restrictions  were  still  in  existence.  As  an  instance 
of  the  power  of  the  City  in  the  reign  of  her  suc- 
cessor, it  has  been  mentioned  that  in  1622  the 
Court  tried  to  borrow  thirty  or  forty  quarters  of 
wheat,  and  the  City  would  only  lend  ten. 

The  ancient  corn-ports  of  London  were,  as  we 
have  shown,  Queenhithe  and  Billingsgate.  The  chief 
corn-warehouse  was  at  Queenhithe.  There  was  a 
principal  meter  there,   and  eight  master  porters, 


The  old  assize  of  bread  compelled  bakers  to 
regulate  the  size  of  thier  loavea  by  the  price  of 
corn.  The  assize  was  regulated  in  Queen  Anne's 
reign,  and  not  finally  abolished  till  1815.  The 
Bakers'  Company  used  formerly  to  present  two  new- 
baked  loaves  to  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Aldermen,  to 
be  fairly  weighed.  They  were  made  out  of  wheaten 
corn,  purchased  by  four  "  sworn  and  discreet  men  " 
at  the  markets  of  Grasschurch,  St.  Botolph,  Bishops- 
gate,  and  Queenhithe.  London  bakers  were  for- 
merly, except  at  Christmas,  forbidden  to  sell  house- 
hold loaves  at  a  higher  piice  than  twopence,  or  to 
sell  by  retail  spice-cakes,  buns,  or  biscuits,  except 
for  funerals,  and  at  the  festivals  of  Christmas  and 
Easter, 


l82 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[Fenchurch  Street. 


The  London  corn-mills  were  latterly  chiefly  at 
London  Bridge.  Besides  Leadenhall  and  the 
Bridge  Housd  there  were  granaries  at  one  time  at 
Bridewell  and  Christchurch.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  last  century  the  metropolitan  corn-market  was 
held  at  Bear  Quay,  in  Thames  Street.  Queenhithe 
was  at  the  same  period  the  great  market  for  flour 
and  meal,  and  the  "White  Horse"  Inn  meal- 
market,  situated  near  Holborn  Bridge,  was  much 
frequented. 

The  system  of  factorage  is  only  about  i8o  years 
old.  Tradition  has  it  that  it  began  with  a  number 
of  Essex  farmers,  who  used  to  leave  samples  of 
corn  with  the  landlord  of  an  inn  at  Whitechapel 
where  they  put  up,  and  to  whom  they  paid  com- 
mission, to  save  the  trouble  of  attending  the 
market  every  week.  The  ancestors  of  one  of  the 
oldest  commission-houses  began  with  a  stand  on 
Tower  Hill. 

"  Such  great  events  from  little  causes  spring.'' 

Kentish,  Essex,  and  Suftblk  com  arrives  in 
sacks;  foreign  and  Irish  corn,  and  English  oats 
and  barley  in  loose  bulk.  The  Kentish  hoys 
sometimes  bring  joint-stock  cargoes.  The  opera- 
tion of  unloading  and  measuring  was,  under  the 
old  system,  veiry'  skilfully  managed.  Two  fellow- 
ship porters  all  but  filled  the  bushel  with  wooden 
shovels,  the  meter  completed  the  bushel,  and  one 
of  the  men  passed  the  strike  over  the  surface.  The 
sack  was  then  filled  and  shot  ibto  the  lighter.  At 
purchase  the  grain  was  again  measured. 

By  a  recent  Act  of- Parliament  the  City's  rights  of 
measuring  corn,  worth  as  much  as  ;^i  3,000  a  year, 
were  done  away  with.  Corn  is  now  sold  by  weight, 
the  only  charge  being  three-sixteenths  of  a  penny 
per  hundredweight,  to  pay  for  the  ex-sworn  meters, 
as  compensation  to  the  City,  this  charge  to  con- 
tinue for  thirty  years. 

The  London  terms  of  the  factors  are  one 
month's  open  credit,  and  the  buyer  has  to  lodge 
any  objection  as  to  quality, bulk,  &c.,  at  the  factor's 
stand  before  eleven  o'clock  on  the  following  market 
day,  or  else  has  to  abide  by  his  bargain.  The 
centre  of  the  market  is  devoted,  at  the  entrance 
end,  to  shipbrokers  of  all  classes,  and  also  ,  to 
masters  of  small  craft,  and  lightermen ;  in  the 
middle  assemble  the  great  Greek  merchants,  who 
almost  monopolise  the  importation  of  corn  from 
every  part  of  the  world ;  they  here  give  directions 
to  factors  who  are  selling  their  arrived  cargoes, 
and  to  agents  who  are  negotiating  with  country 
merchants  and  factors  from  all  parts  of  the  king- 
dom, either  personally  or  by  telegi-aph,  for  the 
sale   of  cargoes    shipping    at   foreign    ports,  or 


on  passage,  or  arrived  on  the  coast  at  Plymouth 
or  Queenstown.  There  are  sometimes  as  many  as 
100  cargoes  at  ports  of  call,  the  size  of  each  one 
being  from  4,000  to  5,000  quarters  up  to  8,000 
quarters,  and  sometimes  as  much  as  13,000 
quarters,  waiting  for  a  destination,  which  is  notified 
to  them  by  telegraph  as  soon  as  a  contract  is  made. 
Not  only  is  the  United  Kingdom  supplied  in  this 
way,  but  also  any  part  of  the  Continent  where  corn 
may  be  required. 

The  upper  part  of  the  market  is  the  place  of 
assembling  for  oil  seed-crushers,  and  here  the 
Greeks  again  are  the  great  importers  of  all  kinds 
of  oil-seeds. 

A  strict  and  punctual  system  governs  all  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  establishment.  The  market  opens 
at  eleven  o'clock  by  ring  of  bell,  and  factors  never 
name  a  price  for  goods  till  then.  At  two  o'clock 
a  notice  bell  is  rung,  and  at  half-past  two  the  final 
bell,  when  the  doors  of  the  market  are  closed  until 
three,  when  the  sweepers  begin  to  clear  up  the 
spilt  samples,  which  bring  in  a  good  revenue  to 
the  company.  i 

The  next  market  adjoining,  and  in  communica- 
tion with  the  old  Exchange,  is  the  "  London  Corn 
Exchange,"  which  is  commonly  called  the  New 
Com  Market,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  other. 
The  exterior  is  much  more  imposing  than  the  old 
market,  which  is  very  simple.  Originally  some 
dealers  clubbed  together  and  acquired  some  pro- 
perty opposite  the  old  JExchange,  and  in  opposition 
to  it,  and  set  up  a  few  small  stands,  but  they  sub- 
sequently formed  a  company,  and  acquired  the 
present  site.  This  may  be  called  the  retail  market, 
as  the  standholders  are  principally  dealers,  who 
sell  corn  lying  in  their  own  river-side  warehouses 
to  shopkeepers,  livery-stables,  &c.,  and  they  buy, 
generally  from  factors  on  the  old  market,  the  grain 
ex-ship.  Some  of  these,  dealers  are  also  factors  in 
the  old  market.  Here  also  the  malt-factors  and 
maltsters  attend,  as  the  Greeks  do  in  the  other 
market ;  and  also  a  great  many  country  dealers, 
who  sell  home-grown  barley.  The  stands  are 
arranged  round  the  interior,  and  smaller  stands  fill 
up  the  centre  opening. 

A  staircase  at  the  entrance  of  the  old  Exchange, 
and  the  property  of  the  same  company,  leads  to 
"  Jack's  Coffee  House,"  the  assembly  for  London 
and  country  millers,  who  examine  their  purchases, 
&c.,  after  the  market  is  over.  The  room  is  crammed 
between  three  and  four  o'clock.  At  the  rear  of  the 
old  Exchange  is  a  handsome  building,  which  was 
erected  in  i860 ;  the  upper  storeys  are  divided  into 
offices,  and  the  ground-floor  forms  a  large  subr 
scription-roomi 


Xeadenhall  Street.] 


THE   OLD   EAST  INDIA  COMPANY. 


183 


Granaries  are  numerous  about  Bermondsey  and 
Shad  Thames,  but  they  abound  on  both  sides  of 
the  river,  from  Greenwich  to  Vauxhall.  The  foreign 
corn  is  stored  in  bonded  granaries  near  the  Com- 
mercial Docks.  In  the  times  of  the  high  duties 
corn-merchants  have  been  known  to  throw  2,000 
quarters  of  wheat  into  the  river  at  one  time  rather 
than  pay  the  high  tax,  or  keep  it  subject  to  long 
granary  rent. 

The  supply  of  foreign  corn  to  this  country  has 
undergone  many  changes  from  time  to  time ;  for- 
merly our  supplies  were  chiefly  from  the  Baltic 
and  South  Russian  ports,  but  now  the  United 
States  is  the  chief  contributor,  and  we  also  get 
wheat  from  Australia,  California,  the  Cape,  and 
New  Zealand. 

The  cultivation  of  grain  has  undergone  a  mar- 


vellous change  since  1830,  the  English  -farmer 
preferring  cattle-rearing  to  corn-growing :  thus  in 
1830  the  supply  of  foreign  corn  to  the  port  of 
London,  as  measured  by  the  sworn  meters,  was 
1,132,580  quarters,  and  of  English  3,154,270 
quarters;  whereas,  in  the  year  187 1  the  quantities 
were,  foreign,  2,471,394  quarters  ;  Enghsh,  662,567 
quarters.  The  total  of  foreign  grain  and  flour  im- 
ported into  London  during  1871  was  20,400,905 
cwts.,  according  to  Custom  House  Returns. 

No.  33,  Mark  Lane,  opposite  the  Corn  Ex- 
change, is  a  large  and  very  ancient  house,  with  fine 
oak  carving  over  the  gateway,  and  inside.  Horses 
used  to  be  lodged  inside  the  gateway,  and  there 
are  still  the  wooden  pegs  used  for  hanging  up 
saddles  and  harness.  This  house  must  have  been 
the  residence  of  a  great  City  grandee. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 
LEADENHALL    STREET  AND    THE  OLD    EAST   INDIA   HOUSE. 

The  Old  East  India  House — Fa^de  of  the  Old  Building — The  Ground  Floor — Distinguished  Servants  of  the  Company— The  Real  Commence- 
ment of  our  Trade  with  India — Injustice  of  the  Stuarts  towards  the  East  India  Company — Dissensions — The  Company's  Court  of  Directors 
rendered  subordinate  to  the  Government — Abolition  of  the  Company's  Trading  Powers^The  General  Court  of  Proprietors — The  Board  of 
Control — "  John  Company's  "  Establishment — Despatches  and  Letters  from  India — Charles  Lamb  as  Clerk  in  the  Old  East  India  House — 
The  Government  of  the  Indian  Army  transferred  to  the  Crown — ^The  Present  Council  of  India — Peter  Anthony  Motteux's  "  India  House" 
— Lime  Street — Colonel  Turner. 


"  It  does  not  appear  to  be  ascertained  where  the 
East  India  Company  first  transacted  their  business," 
says  an  historian  of  the  great  Company,  "  but  the 
tradition  of  the  house  is,  that  it  was  in  the  great 
room  of  the  "  Nag's  Head  Inn,"  opposite  Bishop's- 
gate  Church,  where  there  is  now  a  Quakers'  Meeting 
House.  The  maps  of  London  constructed  soon 
after  the  Great  Fire  place  the  India  House  in 
Leadenhall  Street,  on  a  part  of  its  present  site. 
It  is  probably  the  house,  of  which  a  unique  plate 
is  preserved  in  the  British  Museum,  surmounted 
by  a  huge,  square-built  mariner,  and  two  thick 
dolphins.  In  the  indenture  of  conveyance  of  the 
dead  stock  of  the  Company,  dated  22nd  July, 
1702,  we  find  that  Sir  William  Craven,  of  Kensing- 
ton, in  the  year  1701,  leased  to  the  Company  his 
large  house  in  Leadenhall  Street,  and  a  tenement 
in  Lime  Street,  for  twenty-one  years,  at  ;^ioo  a 
year.  Upon  the  site  of  this  house  what  is  called 
the  old  East  India  House  was  built  in  1726 ;  and 
several  portions  of  this  old  house  long  remained, 
although  the  subsequent  front,  and  great  part  of  the 
house,  were  added  in  1799,  by  Mr.  Jupp. 

The  fagade  of  the  old  building  was  200  feet  in 
length,  and  was  of  stone.  The  portico  was  com- 
posed of  six  large  Ionic  fluted  columns  on  a  raised 


basement,  and  it  gave  an  air  of  much  magnificence 
to  the  whole,  although  the  closeness  of  the  street 
made  it  somewhat  gloomy.  The  pediment  was  an 
emblematic  sculpture  by  Bacon,  representing  the 
commerce  of  the  East  protected  by  the  King  of 
Great  Britain,  who  stood  in  the  centre  of  a  number 
of  figures,  holding  a  shield  stretched  over  them. 
On  the  apex  of  the  pediment  rose  a  statue  of 
Britannia.  Asia,  seated  on  a  dromedary,  was  at  the 
left  corner,  and  Europe,  on  horseback,  at  the  right. 
"  The  ground  floor,"  says  a  writer  in  "  Knight's 
London,"  describing  the  old  India  House  in  1843, 
"  is  chiefly  occupied  by  Court  and  Committee  Rooms, 
and  by  the  Directors'  private  rooms.  The  Court 
of  Directors  occupy  what  is  usually  termed  the 
'Court  Room,'  while  that  in  which  the  Court  of 
Proprietors  assemble  is  called  the  '  General  Court 
Room.'  The  Court  Room  is  said  to  be  an  exact 
cube  of  thirty  feet ;  it  is  splendidly  ornamented  by 
gilding  and  by  large  looking-glasses;  and  the 
effect  of  its  too  great  height  is  much  diminished  by 
the  position  of  the  windows  near  the  ceiling.  Six 
large  pictures  hang  from  the  cornice,  representing 
the  three  Presidencies,  the  Cape,  St.  Helena,  and 
Tellicherry.  A  fine  piece  of  sculpture,  in  white 
marble,  is  fixed  over  the  chimney;  Britannia  is 


184 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Leadenhall  Str«et, 


seated  on  a  globe  by  the  sea-shore,  receiving 
homage  from  three  female  figures,  intended  for  Asia, 
Africa,  and  India.  Asia  offers  spices  with  her 
right  hand,  and  with  her  left  leads  a  camel ;  India 
presents  a  large  box  of  jewels,  which  she  holds 
half  open;  and  Africa  rests  her  hand  upon  the 
head  of  a  lion.  The  Thames,  as  a  river-god,  stands 
upon  the  shore,  a  labourer  appears  cording  a  large 
bale  of  merchandise,  and  ships  are  sailing  in  the 
distance.  The  whole  is  supported  by  two  caryatid 
figures,  intended  for  Bra.hmins,  but  really  fine  old 
European-looking  philosophers. 

"The  General  Court  Room,  which  until  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  trade  was  the  old  sale-room,  is  close  to 
the  Court  Room.  Its  east  side  is  occupied  by  rows 
of  seats  which  rise  from  the  floor  near  the  middle 
of  the  room  towards  the  ceiling,  backed  by  a 
gallery  where  the  public  are  admitted.  On  the  floor 
are  the  seats  for  the  chairman,  secretary,  and  clerks. 
Against  the  west  wall,  in  niches,  are  six  statues  of 
persons  who  have  distinguished  themselves  in  the 
Company's  service  ;  Lord  Clive,  Warren  Hastings, 
and  the  Marquis  Cornwallis  occupy  those  on  the 
left,  and  Sir  Eyre  Coote,  General  Lawrance,  and 
Sir  George  Pococke  those  on  the  right.  It  is 
understood  that  the  statue  of  the  Marquis  Wellesley 
will  be  placed  in  the  vacant  space  in  the  middle. 
The  Finance  and  Home  Committee  Room  is  the 
best  room  in  the  house,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Court  Rooms,  and  is  decorated  with  some  good 
pictures.  One  wall  is  entirely  occupied  by  a 
representation  of  the  grant  of  the  Dewannee  to  the 
Company  in  1765,  the  foundation  of  all  the  British 
Power  in  India ;  portraits  of  Warren  Hastings  and 
of  the  Marquis  Cornwallis  stand  beside  the  fire- 
place; and  the  remaining  walls  are  occupied  by 
other  pictures,  among  which  may  be  noticed  the 
portrait  of  Mirza  Abul  Hassan,  the  Persian  Envoy, 
who  excited  a  good  deal  of  attention  in  London 
in  the  year  1809.  The  upper  part  of  the  house 
contains  the  principal  offices  and  the  library  and 
museum.  In  the  former  is,  perhaps,  the  most 
splendid  collection  of  Oriental  MSS.  in  Europe, 
and,  in  addition,  a  copy  of  almost  every  printed 
work  relating  to  Asia." 

Our  trade  with  India  may  date  its  real  com- 
mencement from  the  last  day  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  when  215  London  merchant  adventurers, 
elated  by  the  capture  of  a  Portuguese  ship  laden  with 
Indian  gold,  pearls,  spices,  silks,  and  ivory,  obtained 
a  charter  to  trade  with  Hindostan  for  fifteen  years. 
King  James,  with  some  reluctance  (being,  no  doubt, 
tampered  with  by  courtiers),  renewed  the  charter, 
in  1609,  "for  ever,". providing  that  it  mighf be  re- 
called on  three  years'  notice  from  the  Crown.    In 


1612,  after  twelve  voyages  had  been  made  to  the 
East  Indies,  the  whole  capital  subscribed,  amount- 
ing to  ^^429,000,  was  united,  and  the  management' 
taken  out  of  the  hands  of  the  original  twenty-four 
managers.  The  Company  suffered  at  first  from  the 
ordinary  rapacity  and  injustice  of  the  Stuarts.  In 
1623  (James  L),  just  as  a  fleet  was  starting  for 
India,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  (then  High 
Admiral)  refused  to  allow  it  to  sail  till  the  Com- 
pany had  paid  up  a  disputed  Admiralty  claim  of 
;^io,ooo,  and  ;^io,ooo  claimed  by  the  king.  In 
163s,  Charles  I.,  breaking  the  charter,  allowed  a 
Captain  Weddell,  for  some  heavy  bribe,  to  trade  to 
India  for  five  years.  In  1640,  the  same  unjust  king 
compelled  the  Company  (on  bonds  never  entirely 
paid)  to  sell  him  their  whole  stock  of  Indian 
pepper  in  their  warehouses,  which  he  instantly 
re-sold  at  a  lower  price,  at  an  eventual  loss  of 
;^5o,ooo.  In  165s  the  Republican  Government, 
nobly  antagonistic  to  royal  monopolies,  from  which 
the  people  had  so  long  groaned,  under  both  the 
Tudors  and  the  Stuarts,  threw  the  trade  to  India 
entirely  open,  but  the  Company  was  reinstated  in  its 
power  two  years  afterwards.  In  1661,  Charles  II. 
(no  doubt  for  a  pretty  handsome  consideration) 
granted  the  Company  a  fresh  charter,  with  the  new 
and  great  privilege  of  making  peace  or  war.  Now 
the  Company's  wings  began  to  grow  in  earnest.  In 
1653,  Madras  was  made  a  presidency;  in  1662, 
Bombay  was  ceded  to  England  by  the  Portuguese, 
who  gave  it  to  Charles  as  part  of  the  dower  of  poor 
ill-starred  Catherine  of  Braganza ;  and  in  1692 
Calcutta  was  purchased  by  the  ambitious  traders, 
who  now  began  to  feel  their  power,  and  the  pos- 
sibilities of  their  new  colony.  From  1690  to  1693 
there  were  great  disputes  as  to  whether  the  king 
or  Parliament  had  the  right  of  granting  trade 
charters ;  and  on  William  III.  granting  the  Com- 
pany (rich  enough  now  to  excite  jealousy)  a  new 
charter  for  twenty-one  years,  an  angry  inquiry 
was  instituted  by  the  Tories,  who  discovered  that 
the  Company  had  distributed  _;^9o,ooo  among  the 
chief  officers  of  state.  A  prorogation  of  Parliament 
dropped  the  curtain  on  these  shameful  disclosures,  i 
In  1698  the  old  Company  vas  dissolved,  and  a 
new  Company  (which  had  outbid  the  old  in  bribes) 
was  founded,  rivalled,  in  1700,  by  the  old  Com- 
pany, which  had  obtained  a  partial  resumption  of 
its  powers.  In  1708,  however,  the  two  Companies, 
which  had  only  injured  each  other,  were  united,  and 
called  "The  United  Company  of  Merchants  of 
En^and,  trading  to  the  East  Indies,"  a  title  which 
it  retained  till  its  trading  privileges  were  abolished, 
in  1834.  On  the  renewal  of  the  charter  in  1781 
(George   III.),  the  GOTemment  made  important 


Leadenhall  Street] 


THE  OLD   EAST   INDIA  HOUSE. 


i8S 


changes  in  the  charter,  and  required  all  despatches 
to  be  submitted  to  them  before  they  were  forwarded 
to  India.  The  Government  was  already  jealous  of 
the  imperial  power  of  a  Company  which  had  the 
possibility  of  conquering  176  millions  of  people. 
In  1784  the  blow  indeed  came,  with  the  estabUsh- 
ment  of  the  Board  of  Control,  "  by  which,  in  every- 
thing but  patronage  and  trade,"  says  a  well-informed 
writer  on  the  subject,  "the  Company's  Court  of 
Directors  was  rendered  subordinate  to  the  Govern- 
ment" of  the  time  being.  In  1794  private  merchants 
were  allowed  to  export  goods  in  the  Copipanys 
ships,  another  big  slice  out  of  the  cake.  By  the 
year  1833  the  private  trading  had  begun  to  exceed, 
in-  value  of  goods,  those  carried  by  the  Company. 
In  1833  an  Act  was  passed  to  enable  the  Company 
to  retain  power  until  1854,  but  abolishing  the  China 
monopoly,  and  all  trading.  This  was  cutting  off 
the  legs  of  the  Company,  and,  in  fact,  preparing  it 
for  death.  Their  warehouses  and  most  of  their 
property  were  then  sold,  and  the  dividend  was  to 
be  10^  per  cent.,  chargeable  on  the  revenues  of 
India,  and  redeemable  by  Parliament  after  the  year 
1874.  The  amount  of  dividend  guaranteed  by 
the  Act  was  ^^630,000,  being  io|  per  cent,  on  a 
nominal  capital  of  ;^6,ooo,ooo.  The  real  capital 
of  the  Company  was  estimated,  in  1832,  at  up- 
wards of  ;^2 1,000,000,  iijcluding  cash,  goods,  and 
buildings,  and  ;^i, 294,768  as  the  estimated  value 
of  the  East  India  House  and  the  Company's  ware- 
houses, the  prime  cost  of  the  latter  having  been 
;^i,  100,000.  The  Company  was  henceforth  to  be 
entitled  the  East  India  Company,  and  its  accounts 
were  to  be  annually  laid  before  Parliament.  The 
old  privileges  of  the  Company  were  now  limited. 

The  General  Court  of  Proprietors  was  formerly 
composed  of  the  owners  of  India  stock.  After  1693 
no  one  who  had  less  than  ;£' 1,000  stock  could  vote. 
Later  still,  the  qualification  was  lowered  to  ;^Soo, 
and  the  greatest  holders  had  no  more.  By  the  last 
law  (that  of  1773)  the  possession  of  ;^i,ooo  only 
gave  one  vote ;  ;^3,ooo,  two ;  ;^6,ooo,  three ;  and 
_;^io,ooo  the  greatest  number  allowed — ^namely, 
four.  The  Court  of  Proprietors  elected  the  Court  of 
Directors,  framed  bye-laws,  declared  the  dividends, 
and  controlled  grants  of  money  above  ;^6oo,  and 
additions  to  salary  above  ;^20o.  Latterly  the 
functions  of  this  general  court  were  entirely  de- 
liberative, and  the  vote  was  by  ballot.  In  1843  there 
were  1,880  members  of  the  Court  of  Proprietors. 
The  meetings  in  old  times  were  very  stormy,  and 
even  riotous ;  the  debates  virulent.  In  1763,  Clive, 
as  unscrupulous  as  he  was  brave,  laid  out  ;^ioo,ooo 
in  India  stock,  to  introduce  nominees  of  his  own, 
who  would  vote  at  his  pleasure.  The  directors  were 


then  appointed  annually ;  latterly  they  were  elected 
for  four  years,  six  retiring  yearly,  and  the  chairman 
and  deputy-chairman,  who  communicated  with  the 
Government,  did  the  greater  part  of  the  work. 

The  Board  of  Control,  established  by  the  Act 
of  1784,  was  nominated  by  the  Crown,  and  (after 
i79"3)  consisted  of  an  unlimited  number  of  mem- 
bers, all  of  whom,  except  two,  were  to  be  of  the 
Privy  iCouncil,  including  the  two  principal  Secre- 
taries of  State  and  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer- 
Three  only  of  the  commissioners  were  paid,  and 
all  changed  with  the  Ministry.  They  had  supreme 
power  to  keep  or  send  despatches ;  had  access  to 
all  books,  accounts,  papers,  and  documents  in  the 
East  India  House,  orders,  or  secret  despatches ; 
and  communicated  with  the  Secret  Committee. 

In  old  times  "  John  Company  "  employed  nearly 
4,000  men  in  its  warehouses,  and,  before  the  trade 
with  India  closed,  kept  more  than  400  clerks  to 
transact  the  business  of  this  greatest  company  that 
the  world  had  ever  seen.  The  military  department 
superintended  the  recruiting  and  storing  of  the 
Indian  army.  There  was  a  shipping  department,  a 
master-attendant's  office,  an  auditor's  office,  an 
examiner's  office,  an  accountant's  office,  a  transfer 
office,  and  a  treasury.  The  buying  office  governed 
.  the  fourteen  warehouses,  and  so  worked  the  home 
market,  having  often  in  store  some  fifty  million 
pounds  weight  of  tea,  1,200,000  lbs.  being  some- 
times sold  in  one  day,  at  the  annual  tea  sales.  The 
tea  and  indigo  sales  were  bear-garden  scenes. 

The  despatches  and  letters  from  India  poured 
ceaselessly  into  the  Jndia  House.  From  1793  to 
i8i3.they  made  9,094  large  folio  volumes;  while 
from  1813  to  1829,  the  number  increased  to  14,414 
folios.  In  a  debate  on  East  India  matters,  in  1822, 
Canning;  mentioned,  in  eulogy  of  the  Company's 
clever  and  careful  clerks,  that  he  had  known  one 
military  despatch  accompanied  by  119  papers,  and 
containing  altogether  13,511  pages.  These  were 
the  men  who  had  heard  of  Clive  and  Warren 
Hastings,  and  remembered  that  Macaulay  had 
spoken  of  Indian  writers  as  fallen  from  their  high 
estate,  because  then  (1840)  they  could  only  expect, 
at  forty-five,  to  return  to  England  with  ;^i,ooo 
a  year  pension  and  ;^3o,ooo  of  savings.  They 
never  forgot,  we  may  be  sure,  that  India  jdelded 
;^i  7,000,000  in  taxes. 

It  must  never  be  forgotten,  in  describing  the  old 
East  India  House,  that  that  most  delightful  of  all 
our  humourists,  Charles  Lamb,  was  a  patient, 
humble,. and  plodding  clerk  at  its  desks  for  thirty 
years.  "  My  printed  works,"  he  used  to  say,  with 
his  quaint  stutter,  "were  my  recreations;  my  real 
works  may  be  found  on  the  shelves  in  Leadenhall 


i86 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Leadenliall  Stfeef. 


Street,  filling  some  hundred  folios."  His  half  pain- 
ful feelings  of  pleasure  on  at  last  regaining  his 
freedom,  he  has  himself  beautifully  described ;  and 
in  one  of  the  best  of  his  essays  he  has  sketched  the 


most  fantastic  of  his  fellow-clerks.     James  Mill,    handsome  pile  of  the  East  India'  Chambers  now 


the  successor  to  poor  old  dead-and-gone  "John 
Company,"  November  i,  1858.  The  East  India 
House,  in  Leadenhall  Street,  was  sold  with  the 
furniture  in  1861,  and  pulled  down  in  1S62.     The 


OLD  HOUSE  FORMERLY  IN  LEADENHALL  STREET. 


the  learned  author  of  the  "  History  of  India,"  and 
worthy  Hoole,  the  heavy  translator  of  "  Tasso,"  were 
also  clerks  in  the  India  House. 

In  1858,  in  consequence  of  the  break-up  occa- 
sioned by  the  mutiny,  and  the  disappearance  of 
the  Company's  black  army,  the  government  of  the 
vast  Indian  empire  was  transferred  to  the  Crown ; 
the  Board  of  Control  was  abolished,  and  a  Council 
of  State  for  India  was  instituted.  The  *Queen 
was  proclaimed  in  all  the  great  Indian  cities,  as 


occupies  its  site,  and  the  museum  was  transferred 
to  Whitehall. 

The  Council  of  India  now  consists  of  fifteen 
members,  at  £\,2qo  a  year  each,  payable,  together 
with  the  salary  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  out  of  the 
revenue  of  India.  The  old  twenty-four  directors 
received  .1^300  a  year  each,  and  .^500  for  their 
"chairs."  At  first  eight  of  the  council  were  ap- 
pointed by  the  Queen,  and  seven  by  the  Court 
of  East  India  Directors,  from  their  own  body.    In 


leadcnHcill  Street"] 


BREAK-UP  OF  THE  INDIA  HOUSE. 


tS;- 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[LeadenKall  Street. 


future,  vacancies  in  the  Council  will  be  filled  up  by 
the  Secretary  of  State  for  India. 

At  the  "  Two  Fans,"  in  Leadenhall  Street,  Peter 
Anthony  Motteux,  a  clever  but  rather  unprin- 
cipled dramatic  writer  of  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  kept  an  India  house,  for  the 
sale  of  Japan  wares,  fans,  tea,  pictures,  arrack, 
rich  brocades,  Dutch  silks,  Flanders  lace  and 
linens.  Such  houses  were  then  often  used  by  fash- 
ionables as  places  of  assignation.  Motteux  was  a 
Protestant  refugee  from  Rouen.  He  wrote  or  trans- 
lated seventeen  plays,  including  some  of  Molifere's ; 
produced  a  tragedy  called  Beauty  in  Distress ; 
translated  "Don  Quixote"  and  "Rabelais,"  and 
was  eventually  found  niurdered  on  his  birthday, 
17 1 7-18,  in  a  notorious  .house  in  Star  Court, 
Butcher  Row,  Temple  Bar.  Steele  inserts  a  letter 
in  the  Spectator,  No.  288,  professedly  written  by 
Motteux,  and  calling  attention  to  his  shop. 

The  following  fragment  of  a  song  of  Motteux's, 
taken  from  The  Mock  Doctor,  a  translation  of  Le 
Medecin  malgrt  lui,  has  always  seemed  to  us  full  of 
spirit  and  French  gaiety  : — 

"  Man  is  for  woman  made, 

And  woman  made  for  man  ; 
As  the  spur  is  for  the  jade, 
As  the  scabbard  for  the  blade, 

As  for  liquor  is  the  can, 
So  man's  for  woman  made, 

And  woman  inade  for  man." 

Lime  Street,  Leadenhall  Street,  is  supposed  to 
have  got  its  nanie  from  lime  having  been  once 


upon  a  time  sold  there.  It  was  a  street  rendered 
famous,  in  the  time  of  Pepys,  by  the  great  robbery 
committed  by  an  old  rascally  CavaHer  colonel 
on  his  friend  Tryan,  a  rich  merchant.  Under 
date  of  the  8th  of  January,  1663-4,  that  omni- 
vorous news-collector,  Pepys,  records :-— "  Upon  the 
'Change,  a  great  talk  there  was  of  one  Mr.  Tryan, 
an  old  liian,  a  merchant  in  Lime  Street,  robbed  last 
night  (his  man  and  maid  being  gone  out  after  he 
was  a-bed),  and  gagged  and  robbed  of  ^^1,050  in 
money,  and  about  _;^4,ooo  in  jewels,  which  he  had 
in  his  house  as  security  for  money.  It  is  believed 
that  his  man  is  guilty  of  confederacy,  by  their  ready 
going  to  his  secret  till,  in  his  desk,  wherein  the  key 
of  his  cash-chest  lay.''  On  the  loth,  which  was 
Sunday,  Pepys  goes  on :  "  All  our  discourse  to- 
night was  about  Mr.  Tryan's  late  being  robbed ; 
and  that  Colonel  Turner  (a  mad,  swearing,  con- 
fident fellow,  well  known  by  all,  and  by  me),  one 
much  indebted  to  this  man  for  his  veiy  livelihood, 
was  the  man  that  either  did  or  plotted  it;  and 
the  money  and  things  are  found  in  his  hand,  and 
he  and  his  wife  now  in  Newgate  for  it ;  of  which 
we  are  all  glad,  so  very  a  known  rogue  he  was." 
On  the  next  day  it  is  added,  "  The  general  talk  of 
the  town  still  is  of  Colonel  Turner,  about  the 
robbery;  who,  it  is  thought,  will  be  hanged." 
And  so  he  was.  ^  When  the  old  Cavalier  was  on 
the  ladder  he  related  all  his  exploits  in  the  wars, 
and,  before  he  was  turned  off  he  kissed  his  hand 
to  some  ladies  at  a  window  near. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 
LEADENHALL  STREET  (continued). 

The  Old  Market— St.  Catherine  Cree  Church— Laud's  Folly  at  the  Consecration— The  Lion  and  the  Flower  Sermons— St.  Mary  Axe— A  Roman 
Pavement — House  of  the  De  Veres — St.  Andrew  Undershaft — Sawing  up  the  Maypole — Stow's  Monument. 


The  original  Leadenhall  Market  was  a  mansion 
which  belonged  to  Sir  Hugh  Neville,  in  1309,  and 
was  converted  into  a  granary,  and  probably  a 
market  for  the  City,  by  Sir  Simon  Eyre,  a  draper, 
and  Lord  Mayor  of  London  in  1445.  I*  appears 
to  have  been  a  large  building  roofed  with  lead, 
and  at  that  time  thought,  wc  presume,  grand  and 
remarkable. 

There  was  a  large  chapel  on  the  east  side  of 
old  Leadenhall  Market,  dedicated  to  the  Holy 
Trinity,  by  Sir  Simon  Eyre.  To  this  chapel  were 
attached,  for  daily  service  of  the  market  people, 
master,  five  secular  priests,  six  clerks,  two  choristers, 
and  three  schoolmasters,  for  whose  support  Eyre 
left  3,000  marks.  In  the.  reign  of  Edward  IV. 
a  fraternity  of  sixty  priests  was  established  in  this 


chapel.  During  a  scarcity  in  1512  (Henry  VIII.) 
a  great  store  of  com  was  laid  up  in  the  Leadenhall 
granary,  and  the  mayor  used  to  attend  the  market 
at  four  a.m.  In  the  year  1534  it  was  proposed  to 
make  Leadenhall  i  merchants'  Bourse,  but  the  plan 
dropped  through.  At  Henry  VIII. 's  death,  in  i  $47. 
the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  the  king's  almoner,  gave 
alms  publicly  t6  the  poor  at  Leadenhall  for  twelve 
consecutive  days.  In  Strype's  time  Leadenhall 
(now  celebrated  for  its  poultry)  was  a  market  for 
meat  and  fish,  a  market  for  raw  hides,  a  wool 
market,  and  an  herb  market. 

"The  use  of  Leadenhall,  in  my  youth,"  says 
Strype,  "  was  thus : — In  a  part  of  the  north  quadrant, 
on  the  east  side  of  the  north  gate,  were  the  common 
beams  for  weighing  of  wool  and  other  wares,  as 


Leadenhall  Street] 


LAUD'S  FOLLIES. 


1S9 


had  been  accustomed;  on  the  west  side  the  gate 
was  the  scales  to  weigh  meal ;  the  other  three  sides 
were  reserved  (for  the  most  part)  to  the  making 
and  resting    of   the    pageants    shewed    at    Mid- 
summer in  the  watch.     The  remnant  of  the  sides 
and  quadrants  were  employed  for  the  stowage  of 
woolsacks,  but  not  closed  up ;  the  lofts  above  were 
partly  used  by  the  painters  in  working  for  the  deck- 
ing of  pageants  and  other  devices,  for  beautifying 
of  the  watcL  and  watchmen.    The  residue  of  the 
lofts  were  letten  out  to  merchants,  the  woolwinders 
and  packers  therein  to  wind  and  pack  their  wools." 
Leadenhall  Market,  says  Pennant,  "  is  the  won- 
der of  foreigners,   who  do  not  duly  consider  the 
carnivorous   nation  to   which  it  belongs."     When 
Don  Pedro  de  Ronquillo,  the  Spanish  ainb.assador, 
visited  Leadenhall,  he  told  Charles  II.  with  admira- 
tion that  he  believed  there  was  more  meat  sold  in 
that  market  than  in  all  the  kingdom  of  Spain  in 
a  whole  year.     In  1730  Leadenhall  Market  was 
partly  rebuilt,  and  in  1814  the  leather-market  was 
restored,  the  chapel  and  other  old  buildings  being 
removed. 

The  engraving  on  page  186  shows  an  old  house 
formerly  standing  in  Leadenhall  Street.  The  door 
at  the  side  appears  to  have  been  the  entrance  to 
an  old  Jewish  synagogue. 

St.  Catherine  Cree  (or  Christ  Church)  is  the 
memorable  building  where  Archbishop  Laud  per- 
formed some  of  those  dangerous  ceremonials  that 
ultimately  contributed  to  bring  him  to  the  scaffold. 
Between  the  years  1280  and  1303  this  church  was 
built  as  a  chapel  for  the  parish  of  St.  Catherine,  in 
the  churchyard  of  the  priory  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
Christ  Church,  founded  by  Matilda,  wife  of  Henry 
I.,  who  united  the  parishes  of  St.  Mary  Magdalen, 
St.  Michael,  St.  Catherine,  and  the  Trinity.  Of  the 
■  church  of  St.  Michael  (at  the  angle  formed  by 
the  junction  of  Leadenhall  and  Fenchurch  Streets) 
the  crypt  existed  at  the  date  of  Mr.  Godwin's 
writing  in  1839,  with  pointed  arched  groining  and 
clustered  columns,  the  shafts  of  which  were  said  to 
be  sunk  about  fourteen  feet  deep  in  the  earth.    •' 

Henry  VIII.,  at  the  dissolution,  gave  the  priory 
and  the  church  to  Lord  Audley,  who  bequeathed 
it  to  Magdalen  College,  Cambridge.  In  Stow's  time 
the  high  street  had  been  so  often  raised  by  pave- 
ments round  St.  Catherine's,  that  those  who  entered 
had  to  descend  seven  steps.  In  the  year  1628  the 
church,  all  but  the  tower  was  pulled  down,  and  the 
present  building  commenced.  The  new  building 
was  consecrated  by  Archbishop  Laud,  then  Bishop 
of  London,  Jan.  16,  1630-31.  Rushworth  gives 
the  following  account  of  the  opening : — 
■     "§t.   Catherifie  Cree  Church  bein^  lately  re- 


paired,   was    suspended   from   all   divine   service, 
sermons,  and  sacraments,  till  it  was  consecrated. 
Wherefore  Dr.  Laud,  Lord  Bishop  of  London,  on 
the   1 6th   January,  being  the  Lord's   Day,   came 
thither  in  the  morning  to   consecrate  the  same. 
Now,  because  great  exceptions  were  taken  at  the 
formality  thereof,  we  will  briefly  relate  the  manner 
of  the  consecration.     At  the  bishop's  approach  to 
the  west  door  of  the  church,  some  that  were  pre- 
pared for  it  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  '  Open,  open, 
ye  everlasting  doors,  that  the  King  of  Glory  may 
come  in.'    And  presently  the  doors  were  opened, 
and  the  bishop,  with  three  doctors,  and  many  other 
principal  men,  went   in,  and  immediately  falling 
down  upon  his  knees,  with  his  eyes  lifted  up,  and 
his  arms  spread  abroad,  uttered  these  words  :  'This 
place  is  holy,  this  ground  is  holy ;  in  the  name  of 
the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  I  pronounce  it 
holy.'     Then  he  took  up  some  of  the   dust,  and 
threw  it  up  into  the  air  several  times  in  his  going 
up  towards  the  church.     When  they  approached 
near  to  the  rail  and  communion-table,  the  bishop 
bowed  towards  it  several  times,  and  returning  they 
went  round  the  church  in  procession,   saying  the 
Hundredth  Psalm,  after  that  the  Nineteenth  Psalm, 
and  then  said  a  form  of  prayer,  'Lord  Jesus  Christ," 
&c. ;  and  concluding,  '  We  consecrate  this  church, 
and  separate  it  unto  Thee,  as  holy  ground,  not  to 
be  profaned  any  more  to  common  use.'    After  this, 
the   bishop  being  near  the  communion-table,  and 
taking  a  written  book  in  his   hand,  pronounced 
curses  upon  those  that  should  afterwards  profane 
that  holy  place,  by  musters  of  soldiers,  or  keeping 
profane  law-courts,  or  carrying  burdens  through  it ; 
and  at  the  end  of  every  curse  he  bowed  towards 
the  east,  and  said,  '  Let  all  the  people  say,  Amen.' 
When  the  curses  were  ended,  he  pronounced  a 
number  of  blessings  upon  all  those  that  had  any 
hand  in  framing  and  building  of  that  sacred  church, 
and  those  that  had  given,  or  should  hereafter  give, 
chalices,  plate,  ornaments,  or  utensils ;  and  at  the 
end  of  every  blessing  he  bowed  towards  the  east, 
saying,  '  Let  all  the  people  say.  Amen.' 

"After  this  followed  the  sermon,  which  being 
ended,  the  bishop  consecrated  and  administered 
the  sacrament  in  manner  following: — As  he  ap-' 
proached  the  communion-table  he  made  several, 
lowly  bowings,  and  coming  up  to  the  side  of  the 
table  where  the  bread  and  wine  were  covered,  he, 
bowed  seven  times ;  and  then,  after  the  reading  of 
many  prayers,  he  came  near  the  bread,  and  gently 
lifted  up  the  comer  of  the  napkin  wherein  the 
bread  were  laid ;  and  when  he  beheld  the  bread, 
he  laid  it  down  again,  flew  back  a  step  or  two, 
bowed  three  several  times  towards  it.  Then  he  drew 


1$0 


6LD  and   new  LONDON. 


[Leadenhall  Street 


near  again,  and  opened  the  napkin  and  bowed  as 
before.  Then  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  cup,  which 
was  full  of  wine,  with  a  cover  upon  it,  which  he  let 
go  again,  went  back,  and  bowed  thrice  towards  it ; 
then  he  came  near  again,  and  lifting  up  the  cover 
of  the  cup,  looked  into  it,  and  seeing  the  wine,  he 
let  fall  the  cover  again,  retired  back,  and  bowed  as 
before.  Then  he  received  the  sacrament,  and  gave 
it  to  some  principal  men ;  after  which,  many  prayers 
being  said,  the  solemnity  of  the  consecration  ended." 
In  the  Middle  Ages  morality  plays  were  acted  in 
the  churchyard  of  St.  Catherine  Cree.  In  an  old 
parish  book,  quoted  by  Malcolm,  under  the  date 


an  ambassador  to  France  from  Queen  Elizabeth. 
The  tomb,  of  marble  or  alabaster,  "now  (1839)," 
says  Mr.  Godwin,  "painted' stone-colour,  is  canopied, 
and  has  a  recumbent  effigy."  There  is  also  a  small 
tablet,  supported  by  two  figures  of  monks  (be- 
ginning of  seventeenth  century).  At  the  west  end 
is  an  indifferent  bas-relief  by  the  elder  Bacon.  There 
is  also  a  man  more  illustrious  than  these  said  to 
be  buried  here,  and  that  is  the  great  Holbein.  The 
great  painter  is  said  to  have  died  in* he  parish  of 
St.  Andrew  Undershaft,^  and  Strype .  gives  this  as 
the  place  of  his  interment,  adding  that  the  Earl  of 
Arundel  had  wished  to  erect  a  monument  to  his 


OS-      ALDGATE     WiRD 


•fAET      OS^     BISflOPSGAXK      TVAEX 


ri-U'KCH   ST£££L 

S    K\        if* 


LIME  STREET  WARD.     {From  a  Survey  made  in  1750.) 


1565,  there  is  an  entry  of  certain  players,  who  for 
licence  to  play  their  interludes  in  the  churchyard 
paid  the  sum  of  27s.  8d. 

The  most  interesting  ceremonial  to  be  witnessed 
in  this  church  is  the  annual  "flower  sermon"  on 
Whit-Monday,  which  is  largely  attended :  the  con- 
gregation all  wear  flowers,  and  a  large  bouquet  is 
placed  on  the  pulpit  before  the  preacher. 

It  is  generally  thought  by  good  authorities  that 
this  church  was  restored  under  the  direction  of 
Inigo  Jones.  The  building  displays  a  strange  mix- 
ture of  Gothic  and  Greek  architecture,  yet  is  still 
not  without  a  certain  picturesqueness.  The  east 
window  is  square-headed  ;  Corinthian  columns  sup- 
port a  clerestory,  and  the  groined  ceiling  is  coarse 
and  ugly.  The  chief  monument  in  the*  church 
is  one  to  the  memory  of  Sir  Nicholas  Throgmor- 
ton,  chjef  bwtler  of  England,  a  chamberlain,  and 


memory,  but  was  unable  to  discover  the  exact  spot 
of  his  grave.  The  close  of  Holbein's  career,  how- 
ever, is  wrapped  in  obscurity.  Walpole  observes 
that  "  the  spot  of  his  interment  is  as  uncertain  as 
that  of  his  death;"  and  he  might  have  added,  that 
there  is  quite  as  much  doubt  about  the  time. 

St.  Mary  Axe,  so  called  originally  from  a  shop 
with  the  sign  of  ari  axe,  is  a  street  which  runs  from 
Lime  Street  into  Camomile  Street,  on  the  line 
of  the  old  Roman  wall,  and  so  named  (like  Worm- 
wood Street)  from  the  rough  herbs  that  grew  among 
the  old  Roman  stones.  The  church  of  St.  Mary, 
long  since  vanished,  was,  says  Stow,  after  the  union 
of  the  parish  with  that  of  St.  Andrew  Undershaft, 
turned  into  a  warehouse.  The  Smiths,  in  one  of  the 
best  of  the  "Rejected  Addresses,"  in  imitation  of 
Crabbe,  play  very  wittily  on  th?  najfte  of  St.  M^ry 
Axe-^ 


Leftdenhall  Street,] 


THE   LEADENHALL   STREET   MAYPOLE. 


191 


"  Jews  from  St.  Mary  Axe,  for  jobs  so  wary, 
That  for  old  qlotlies  they'd  even  axe  St.  Mary." 

Near  this  spot  stood,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  V.,  the 
London  residence  of  the  De  Veres,  Earls  of  Oxford. 
Richard,  Earl  of  Oxford,  fought  at  Agincourt,  and 
died  in  France,  1417,  two  years  after  that  great 
victory. 

In  Leadenhall  Street,  opposite  the  East  India 
House,   in   1803,   was  found    the  most  magnifi- 
cent Roman  tessellated  pavement  yet  discovered 
in  London.     It  lay  at  only  nine  and  a  half  feet 
below  the  street,  but  a  third  side  had  been  cut 
away  for  a  sewer.     It  appeared  to  have  been  the 
floor  of  a  room  more  than  twenty  feet  square.     In 
the  centre  was  Bacchus  upon  a  tiger,  encircled  with 
three  borders  (inflexions  of  serpents,  cornucopias, 
and  squares  diagonally  concave),  with  drinking-cups 
and  plants  at  the  angles.    Surrounding  the  whole 
was  a  square  border  of  a  bandeau  of  oak,  and 
lozenge  "^figures  and  true-lover's  knots,  and  a  five- 
feet  outer  margin  of  plain  red  tiles.     The  pavement 
was  broken  in  takmg  up,  but  the  pieces  were  pre- 
served in  the  library  of  the  East  India  Company. 
A  fragment  of  an  um  and  a  jawbone  were  found 
beneath  one  comer.     "  In  this  beautiful  specimen 
of  Roman  Mosaic,"  says  Mr.  Fisher,  who  published 
a  coloured  print  of  it,  "  the  drawing,  colouring,  and 
shadows  are  all  effected  by  about  twenty  separate 
tints,  composed  of  tessellse  of  different  materials, 
the  major  part  of  which  are  baked  earths ;  but  the 
more  brilliant  colours  of  green  and  purple,  which 
form  the  drapeiy,  are  of  glass.     These  tessellse  are 
of  different  sizes  and  figures,  adapted  to  the  situa- 
tions they  occupy  in  the  design."     In  connection 
with  this  interesting  discovery,  it  may  be  mentioned 
that  another  fine  Roman  pavement,  twenty-eight 
feet  square,   was  found  in    1854    in   Old   Broad 
Street,  on  taking  down  the  Excise  Office.     It  lay 
about  fifteen  feet  lower  than   the  foundations   of 
Gresham  House,  on  the  site  of  which  the  Excisfe 
Office  was  built.     "  It  is,"  says  a  description  of  it 
inserted  by  Mr.  Timbs,  in  his  "Curiosities,"  "a 
geometrical  pattern  of  broad  blue  hues,  forming 
intersections  of  octagon  and  lozenge  compartments. 
The  octagon   figures   are   bordered  with  a  cable 
pattern,  shaded  with  grey,  and  interlaced  with  a 
square  border  shaded  with  red  and  yellow.    In  the 
centres,  within  a  ring,  are  expanded  flowers,  shaded 
in  red,  yellow,  and  grey,  the  double  row  of  leaves 
radiating  from  a  figure   called   a  true-love  knot, 
alternately  with  a  figure  something  like  the  tiger- 
lily.     Between  the  octagon  figures  are  square  com- 
partments bearing  various  devices.     In  the  centre 
of  the  pavement  is  Ariadne  or  a  Bacchante,  re- 
clining oil  the  back  of  a  panther,  but  only  the 


fore-paws,  one  of  the  hind-paws,  a,nd  the  tail,  re- 
main. Over  the  head .  of  the  figure  floats  a  light 
drapery,  forming  an  arch.  Another  square  contains 
a  two-handled  vase.  On  the  demi-octagons,  at  the 
sides  of  the  pattern,  are  lunettes ;  one  contains  a  fan 
ornament;  another,  a  bowl  crowned  with  flowers. 
The  lozenge  intersections  are  variously  embellished 
with  leaves,  shells,  true-love  knots,  chequers,  and 
an  ornament  shaped  like  a  dice-box.  At  the 
corners  of  the  pattern  are  true-love  knots.  Surround- 
ing this  pattern  is  a  broad  cable-like  border,  broad 
bands  of  blue  and  white  alternating,  theft  a  floral 
scroll,  and  beyond  this  an  edge  of  demi-lozenges, 
in  alternate  blue  and  white.  An  outer  border 
composed  -  of  plain  red  tesselte,  surrounds  the 
whole.  The  ground  of  the  pavement  is  white,  and 
the  ether  colours  are  a  scale  of  full  red,  yellow,  and 
a  bluish  grey.  This  pavempnt  is  of  late  workman- 
ship. Various  Roman  and  mediaeval  articles  were 
turned  up  in  the  same  excavation ;  among  these 
were  a  silver  denarius  of  Hadrian,  several  copper 
coins  of  Constantine,  and  a  small  copper  coin 
bearing,  on  the  reverse,  the  figures  of  Romulus  and 
Remus  suckled  by  the  traditionary  wolf;  several 
Roman  and  mediaeval  tiles  and  fragments  of  pottery ; 
a  small  glass  of  a  fine  blue  colour,  and  coins  and 
tradesmen's  tokens  were  also  found. 

Perhaps  of  all  the  old  churches  of  London  there 
is  scarcely  one  so  interesting  as  St.  Andrew  Under- 
shaft,  Leadenhall  Street,  nearly  opposite  the  site  of 
the  old  East  India  House,  the  very  name  itself  sug- 
gesting some  curious  and  almost  forgotten  tradition. 
Stow  is  pecuharly.  interesting  about  this  church, 
which  he  says  derived  its  singular  name  from  "a 
high  or  long  shaft  or  Maypole  higher  than  the 
church  steeple"  (hence  under  shaft),  which  used, 
early  in  the  morning  of  May  Day,  the  great  spring 
festival  of  merry  England,  to  be  set  up  and 
hung  with  flowers  opposite  the  south  door  of  St. 
Andrew's. 

This  ancient  Maypole  must  have  been  the  very 
centre  of  those  joyous  and  innocent  May  Day 
revelries  sung  of  by  Herrick  :— r- 

"Come,  my  Corinna;  and  comining,  marke 

How  each  field  turns  a  street,  each  street  a  parke 
Made  green  and  trimm'd  with  trees  ;  see  how 
Devotion  gives  each  house  a  bough, 
Or  branch  ;  each  porch,  each  doore,  ere  this, 
An  arke,  a  tabernacle  is. 

Made  up  of  white-thorn  neatly  interwove  ; 

As  if  here  were  those  cooler  shades  of  love. 
Can  such  delights  be  in  the  street 
And  open  fields,  and  we  not  see't? 
Come,  we'll  abroad,  and  let's  obey 
The  proclamation  made  for  May, 

And  sin  no  more,  as  we  have  done,  by  staying  ; 

But,  my  Corinna,  come,  let's  go  a  Maying." 


192 


OLD  AND  NEW   LONDON. 


[Leadenhall  Street, 


The  venerable  St.  Andrew's  Maypole  was  never 
raised  after  that  fatal  "  Evil  May  Day,"  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  VIII.,  which  we  have  mentioned  in  our 
chapter  on  Cheapside.  It  remained  dry-rotting  on 
its  friendly  hooks  in  Shaft  Alley  till  the  third  year 
of  Edward  VI.,  when  the  Reforming  preachers, 


time  but  between  Shrovetide  and  Easter.  The 
same  eccentric  reformer  used  to  preach  out  of  a 
high  elm-tree  in  his  churchyard,  and  sing  high 
mass  in  EngUsh  from  a  tomb,  far  from  the  altar. 
The  sermon  denouncing  the  Maypole  was  preached 
at  Paul's  Cross,  when  Stow  himself  was  present ; 


STOW'S   MONUMENT  IN   ST.   ANDREW   UNDERSHAFT. 


growing  unusually  hot  and  zealous  in  the  sunshine 
of  royal  favour,  and,  as  a  natural  consequence,  con- 
siderably intolerant,  one  Sir  Stephen,  a  curate  of 
the  neighbouring  St.  Katherine's  Christ  Church, 
Leadenhall  Street,  preached  against  the  good  old 
Maypole,  and  called  it  an  "  Idol,"  advising  all  men 
to  alter  the  Popish  names  of  churches  and  the 
names  of  the  days  of  the  week,  to  eat  fish  any  day 
but  Friday  and  Saturday,  and  to  keep  Lent  any 


and  that  same  afternoon  the  good  old  historian  says 
he  saw  the  Shaft  Alley  people,  "after  they  had 
dined,  to  make  themselves  strong,  gathered  more 
help,  and  with  great  labour,  raising  the  shaft  from 
the  hooks  whereon  it  had  rested  two-and-thirty 
years,  thej  sawed  it  in  pieces,  every  man  taking  for 
his  share  so  much  as  had  lain  over  his  door  and 
stall,  the  length  of  his  house."  Thus  was  the  "  idol" 
mangled  and  burned.    Not  long  after  there  was  a 


Leadenhall  Street.] 


ST.  ANDREW  UNDERSHAFT. 


193 


Romish  riot  in  Essex,  and  the  bailiff  of  Romford 
was  hung  just  by  the  well  at  Aldgate,  on  the  pave- 
ment in  front  of  Stow's  own  house.  While  on  the 
ladder  this  poor  perplexed  bailiff  said  he  did  not 
know  why  he  was  to  be  hung,  unless  it  was  for 
telling  Sir  Stephen  (the  enemy  of  the  Maypole)  that 
there  was  heavy  news  in  the  country,  and  many  men 
were  up  in  Essex.  After  this  man's  death  Sir  Stephen 
stole  out  of  London,  to  avoid  popular  reproach,  and 


divines,"  for  chance  readers;  and  there  still  is  a 
desk  with  seven  curious  old  books  (mostly  black 
letter),  which  formerly  were  chained  to  open  cages. 
The  present  church,  rebuilt  1520-1532,' consists  of 
a  nave  and  two  aisles,  with  a  ribbed  and  flattened 
perpendicular  roof,  painted  and  gilt,  with  flowers 
and  emblazoned  shields.  The  chancel  has  also 
paintings  of  the  heavenly  choir,  landscapes,  and 
buildings.     St.  Andrew's  boasts  much  stained  glass, 


MOORFIELDS  AND  ITS  NEIGHBOURHOOD.     (From  a  Map  of  about  1120.) 


was  never  afterwards  heard  of  by  good  old  Stow. 
And  this  is  the  whole  story  of  St.  Andrew's  May- 
pole and  the  foolish  curate  of  Catherine  Cree. 

Many  eminent  citizens  were  buried  in  this 
church.  Among  them  we  may  name  John  Kirby, 
the  great  Elizabethan  merchant  tailor,  and  Stow 
himself,  Stephen  Jennings,  Mayor  of  London, 
another  worthy  merchant  tailor,  who,  in  1520,  re- 
built half  the  church,  but  sought  a  grave  in  the 
Grey  Friars  (Christ's  Hospital).  An  old  chroiiicler 
mentions  "at  the  lower  end  of  the  north  ile"  of 
this  church  "  a  faire  wainscot  press  full  of  good 
books,  the  works  of  many  learned  and  reverend 
65— Vol.  II. 


particularly  a  large  painted  window  at  the  east  end, 
containing  whole-length  portraits  of  Edward  VI., 
Elizabeth,  James,  Charles  I.,  and  Charles  II.  This 
church  was  pewed  soon  after  1520.  It  contains 
many  valuable  brasses,  tablets,  and  monuments,  as 
might  be  expected  in  a  celebrated  City  church 
lucky  enough  to  escape  the  Great  Fire.  The  most 
special  and  memorable  of  these  is  the  terra-cotta 
monument  to  worthy,  indefatigable,  honest  old 
Stow.  The  monument  to  Stow  was  erected  at 
the  expense  of  his  widow,  and  the  effigy  was  for- 
merly painted  to  resemble  life.  The  worthy  old 
chronicler  is  represented  sitting  at  a  table,  as  he 


194 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Shoreditch. 


must  have  spent  half  his  existence,  with  a  book 
before  him  (an  old  parish  register,  no  doubt),  and 
he  holds  a  pen  in  his  hand,  as  was  his  custom. 
The  figure  is  squat  and  stiff,  but  the  portrait  is  no 
doubt  exact.  There  was  formerly,  says  Cunning- 
ham, a  railing  before  the  tomb.  That  Stow  was 
a  tailor,  born  about  1525,  in  the  parish  of  St. 
Michael,  Comhill,  we  have  stated  in  a  previous 
chapter.  That  he  lived  near  Aldgate  Pump  we 
have  also  noted.  He  seems  to  have  written  his 
laborious  "  Chronicles,"  "  Annals,"  and  "Survey" 
iamidst  care  and  poverty.      He  was  a  friend  of 


Camden,  and  a  protkgk  of  Archbishop  Parker,  yet 
all  he  could  obtain  from  James  I.  was  a  license  to 
beg.  He  died  a  twelvemonth  after  this  effusion  of 
royal  favour,  and  was  buried  at  St.  Andrew's  in 
1605.  In  1732  his  body  was  removed,  says  Mait- 
land,  "to  make  way  for  another."  His  collection 
for  the  "  Chronicles  of  England,"  in  sixty  quarto 
volumes;  are  now  in  the  British  Museum.  Won- 
derful chiffonnier  of  topographical  facts  !  Peter 
Anthony  Motteux,  the  clever  translator  of  "Don 
Quixote,"  already  mentioned  by  us,  was  buried 
here,  but  there  is  no  monument  to  his  memory. 


CHAPTER     XXV. 


SHOREDITCH. 

I 

The  Famous  Legend  respecting  Shoreditch — Sir  John  de  Soerditch— "  The  Duke  of  Shoreditch  "-7 Archeiy  Competitions  of  the  Sixteenth 
Century— St.  Leonard's  Church— Celebrated  Men  of  Elizabeth's  Time— The  Fairchild  Sermon— Holywell  Lane— The  "Curtain"  Theatre. 


This  ancient  and  ill-used  parish  extends  from 
Norton  Folgate  to  Old  Street,  and  from  part  of 
Finsbury  to  Bethnal  Green.  Originally  a  village 
on  the  old  Roman  northern  road,  called  by  the 
Saxons  Old  Street,  it  is  now  a  continuation  of 
Bishopsgate  Street. 

The  old  London  tradition  is  that  Shoreditch 
derived  its  name  from  Jane  Shore,  the  beautiful 
mistress  of  Edward  IV.,  who,  worn  out  with  poverty 
and  hunger,  died  miserably  in  fi  ditch  in  this  un- 
savoury suburb.  This  legend,  however,  is  entirely 
erroneous,  as  we  have  shown  in  a  previous  chapter. 
It  does  not  seem  to  have  been  popular  even  so  late 
as  1587.  Dr.  Percy  hit  upon  quite  as  erroneous  a 
derivation  when  he  traced  the  name  of  the  parish 
to  shore  (sewer),  a  common  drain.  Shoreditch,  or, 
more  correctly,  Soerdich,  really  took  its  name  from 
the  old  family  of  the  Soerdiches,  Lords  of  the 
Manor  in  the  time  of  Edward  III.  Sir  John  de 
Soerdich  of  that  reign,  an  eminent  warrior,  lawyer, 
statesman,  and  diplomatist,  was,  on  one  memorable 
occasion,  sent  to  Rome  to  protest  before  the  Pope 
against  the  greedy  and  tyrannical  way  in  which 
foreign  priests  were  thrust  into  EngHsh  benefices, 
and  it  was  all  Sir  John  could  do  to  get  safe  back 
to  the  httle  island.  The  Soeirdich  family,  Mr. 
Timbs  informs  us,  held  the  manor  of  Ickenham, 
near  Uxbridge,  and  resided  there  till  our  own  time. 
The  last  of  the  family,  an  engineer,  died  in  1865, 
in  the  West  Indies.  In  the  reign  of  Richard  II. 
the  manor  of  Shoreditch  was  granted  to  Ifedmund, 
Duke  of  York,  and  his  son,  the  Earl  of  Rutland, 


which  accounts  for  the  fact  that  St.  Leonard's 
Church,  Shoreditch,  is  full  of  the  Manners  family. 
Stow  mentions  a  house  in  Hackney  called  Shore- 
ditch Place ;  and  Strype  notes  the  vulgar  tradition 
that  Jane  Shore  once  lived  there,  and  was  often 
visited  by  her  royal  lover.  This  was  probably  the 
old  mansion  of  Sir  John  de  Soerdich,  who  rode 
against  the  French  spears  by  the  side  of  the  Black 
Prince,  and  with  Manney  and  Chandos. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  when  Shoreditch 
was  still  a  mere  waste  of  fields,  dotted  with  wind- 
mills and  probably,  like  Islington  (fields,  much 
frequented  by  archers,  for  practising  at  roving 
marks),  the  burly  king  conferred  on  an  archer  of 
Shoreditch,  named  Barlow,  who  had  pleased  him 
at  some  wondrous  competition  at  Windsor,  the 
jocular  title  of  Duke  of  Shoreditch.  Happiest  and 
proudest  of  all  London's  archers  must  Barlow  have 
gloried  at  all  civic  processions,  when,  as  captain,  he 
strode  first  to  the  Hoxton,  Islington,  or  Newington 
Butts.  The  duke's  companions  adopted  such  titles 
as  the  Marquises  of  Hoxtpn,  Islington,  Pancras, 
and  Shacklewell,  and  other  ludicrous  appellations 
of  honour.  In  Elizabeth's  reign  the  archers  of 
London  numbered  no  fewer  than  3,000,  and  on  one 
occasion  we  hear  of  one  thousand  of  therh,  wearing 
gold  chains,  going  from  the  Merchant  Taylors' 
Hall  to  Smithfield,  to  try  their  skill,  attended 
by  4,000  billmen,  besides  pages.  In  Dryden's 
time  Shoreditch  was  a  disreputable  place,  fre- 
quented by  courtesans ;  and  in  Lillo's  old  ballad 
of  "George  Barnwell,"  the  apprentice  hero  of  which 


Shorediteh.] 


ST.  LEONARD'S  CHURCH. 


I9S 


thrice  robbed  his  master  and  murdered  his  uncle 
in  Ludlow,  that  wicked  siren,  Mrs.  Millwood, 
lives  at  Shoreditch,  "  next  door  unto  the 
'Gun.'" 

The  present  St.  Leonard's  Church,  Shoreditch, 
occupies  the  site  of  a  church  at  least  as  old  as  the 
thirteenth  century.  The  old  church,  which  had 
four  gables  and  a  low  square  tower,  was  taken 
down  in  1736,  and  the  present  ugly  church  built 
by  the  elder  Dance,  in  1740,  with  a  steeple  to 
imitate  that  of  St.  Mary-le-Bow,  Cheapside,  and  a 
fine  peal  of  twelve  bells.  The  chancel  window,  the 
gift  of  Thomas  Awsten,  in  1634,  and  a  tablet  to 
the  Awstens,  are  the  only  relics  left  of  the  old 
church.  St.  Leonard's  is  the  actor's  church  of 
London ;  for,  in  the  days  of  Elizabeth  and  James, 
the  players  of  distinction  from  the  Curtain,  in 
Holywell  Lane,  and  from  "  The  Theatre,''  as  well 
as  those  from  the  Blackfriars  Theatre  and  Shake- 
speare's Globe,  were  fond  of  residing  in  this  parish. 
Perhaps  nowhere  in  all  London  have  rooms  echoed 
oftener  with  Shakespeare's  name  than  those  of 
Shoreditch. 

The  parish  register,  within  a  period  of  sixty  years, 
says  Cunningham,  records  the  interment  at  St. 
Leonard's  of  the  following  celebrated  characters: 
—"Will.  Somers,  Henry  VIII.'s  jester  (d.  1560); 
Richard  Tarlton,  the  famous  clown  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's time  (d.  1588);  James  Burbage  (d.  1596) 
and  his  more  celebrated  son,  Richard  Burbage 
(d.  1618-19)  j  Gabriel  Spenser,  the  player,  who  fell, 
in  1598,  in  a  duel  with  Ben  Jonson;  William  Sly 
and  Richard  Cowley,  two  original  performers  in 
Shakespeare's  plays ;  the  Countess  of  'Rutland,  the 
only  child  of  the  famous  Sir  Philip  Sydney ;  For- 
tunatus  Greene,  the  ««fortunate  offspring  of  Robert 
Greene,  the  poet  and  player  (d.  1593).  Another 
original  performer  in  Shakespeare's  plays,  who 
lived  in  Holywell  Street,  in  this  parish,  was 
Nicholas  Wilkinson,  alias  Tooley,  whose  name  is 
recorded  in  gilt  letters  on  the  north  side  of  the 
altar,  as  a  yearly  benefactor  of  ;^6  los.,  which  sum 
is  still  distributed  in  bread  every  year  to  the 
poor  inhabitants  of  the  parish,  to  whom  it  was 
bequeathed. 

In  the  burial  register,  January  22nd,  1588,  is  the 
following  entry :  "  Aged  207  years.  Holywell 
Street.  Thomas  Cam."  The  2  should  probably 
be  I.  A  correspondent  of  the  Penny  Magazine, 
writing  in  1833,  notices  this  entry  as  the  most  re- 
markable record  of  longevity  in  existence,  and 
adds  :  "  It  thus  appears  that  Cam  was  born  in  the 
year  1381,  in  the  fourth  of  Richard  II.,  living 
through  the  reign  of  that  monarch,  and  through 
those  of  the  whole  pf  the  foUpwing  sovereigns— 


viz.,  Henry  IV.,  Henry  V.,  Henry  VI.,  Edward  IV.,  ' 
Edward  v.,  Richard  III.,  Henry  VIL,  Henry  VIII., 
Edward  VI.,  Mary,  and  to  the  thirtieth  of  Eliza- 
beth. Such  an  extreme  duration  of  life  is,  how- 
ever, contrary  to  all  recorded  experience;  and 
unless  the  fact  can  be  supported  by  other  evidence, 
it  is  reasonable  to  conclude  that  the  entry  in  the 
register  is  inaccurate." 

At  St.  Leonard's,  every  Whit  Tuesday,  is  preached 
a  sermon  on  the  "  Wonderful  Works  of  God  in  the 
Creation,"  or  "  On  the  Certainty  of  the  Resurrec- 
tion of  the  Dead,  proved  by  certain  changes  of 
the  Animal  and  Vegetable  Parts  of  the  Creation." 
The  money,  £,2^  in  all,  left  for  this  purpose  to  the 
preacher  was  bequeathed,  in  1728,  by  Mr.  Thomas 
Fairchild,  a  gardener,  whose  gardens  (Selby's  Gar- 
dens) then  extended  from  the  west  end  of  Ivy 
Lane  to  the  New  North  Road.  The  sum  originally 
bequeathed  was  afterwards  increased  by  sundry 
contributions.  It  used  to  be  the  custom  for  the 
President  and  Fellows  of  the  Royal  Society  to 
attend  these  sermons. 

Holywell  Lane  (west  side  of  Shoreditch)  was  so 
called,  says  Stow,  from  a  sweet,  wholesome,  and 
clear  well,  spoiled,  in  that  writer's  time,  by  the 
manure-heaps  of  the  nursery  gardens.  Here  for- 
merly, till  the  dissolution,  stood  a  Benedictine 
nunnery  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  founded  by  some 
forgotten  Bishop  of  London;  and  in  this  street 
lived  and  died  Richard  Burbage,  the  tragedian,  and 
friend  and  companion  of  Shakespeare.  Near  St. 
Leonard's  Church  stood  two  of  the  earhest  London 
theatres— the  "  Curtain  "  and  "  The  Theatre."  The 
site  of  the  first  of  these  is  still  marked  by  Curtain 
Road. 

"  The  Theatre,"  on  the  site  of  Holywell  Priory, 
was  remarkable  as  being,  according  to  Malone,  the 
first  theatre  erected  in  London.  .  It  is  noticed  in 
a  sennon  preached  at  Paul's  Cross,  in  1578,  as 
the  "  gorgeous  playing-place  erected  in  the  Fields." 
In  1598  this  wooden  theatre  was  taken  down, 
and  the  timber  of  it  was  used  for  enlarging  'the 
Globe. 

The  "Curtain"  is  mentioned  as  early  as  1577 
(before  Shakespeare  came  to  London),  and  by 
Stubbs,  in  his  "  Anatomie  of  Abuses,"  in  1583.  In 
1622  it  was  occupied  by  Prince  Charles's  actors. 
Aubrey,  in  1678,  calls  it  the  "Green  Curtain,"  and 
terms  it  "a  kind  of  nursery,  or  obscure  playhouse.'' 
It  gradually,  like  many  of  the  smaller  theatres,  sank 
into  a  sparring-room.  Maitland,  in  his  "  London  " 
(1772),  mentions  some  remains  of  the  "Curtain" 
as  recently  standing.  It  is  supposed  to  have  got 
its  name  from  having  been  the  fjjrst  houpe  that  usecl 
the  green  certain. 


196 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Moorfields. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
MOORFIELDS    AND    FINSBURY. 

The  Early  Days  of  Moorfields— Curious  Skates— Various  Moorfield  Scenes— A  Fray  between  Butchecs  and  Bakers — ^The  Carpenters'  Con^pany  and 
tlieir  Hall— Moorfields  at  the  Time  of  the  Great  Fire— The  Artillery  Ground— The  Trained-Bands— The  Tabernacle  in  Moorfields  —The  Old 
Bedlam— if isoellaneous  Trades  in  Moorfields— The  Hospital  of  St.  Luke— The  Present  Hospital— Peerless  Pool— St.  Luke's  Church— 
Finsbury  Fields — An  Old-fashioned  Medical  Quarter  of  London — Great  Change  in  the  Character  of  the  Inhabitants  of  Finsbury — Bunhill 
Fields  Burial  Ground— The  Great  Plague  Pit  in  Finsbury— Finsbury  as  an  Ecclesiastical  Property— Treaties  for  the  Transferor  Bunhill 
Fields  Cenietery  to  the  Dissenters— Negotiations  between  the  City  Corporation  and  the  Ecclesiastical  Coniniissioners— Lackington  and  his 
History — The  London  Institution— Finsbury  Pavement. 


*•  This  Fen  or  Moor  Field,"  says  Stow,  "  stretching 
from  the  wall  of  the  City  betwixt  Bishopsgate  and 
the  postern  called  Cripplesgate,  to  Finsbury,  and 
to  Holywell,  continued  a  waste  and  unprofitable 
ground  a  long  time,  so  that  the  same  was  all  letten 
for  four  marks  ihe  year  in  the  reign  of  Edward  II. ; 
but  in  the  year  1415,  the  3rd  of  Henry  V.,  Thomas 
Falconer,  Mayor,  caused  the  wall  of  the  City  to  be 
broken  toward  the  said  moor,  and  built  the  postern 
called  Moorgate,  for  the  ease  of  the  citizens  to 
walk  that  way  upon  causeys  towards  Iseldon  and 
Hoxton." 

Fitzstephen  the  monk,  who  wrote  a  curious 
account  of  London  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II., 
describes  Moorfields  as  the  general  place  of  amuse- 
ment for  London  youth.  Especially,  he  says,  was 
the  Fen  frequented  for  sliding  in  winter-time,  when 
it  was  frozen.  He  then  mentions  a  primitive  sub- 
stitute for  skates.  "  Others ,  there  are,"  he  says, 
■ "  still  more  expert  in  these  amusements  ;  they  place 
certain  bones — the  leg-bones  of  animals — under  the 
soles  of  their  feet,  by  tying  them  round  their  ankles, 
and  then  taking  a  pole  shod  with  iron  into  their 
hands,  they  push  themselves  forward  by  striking  it 
against  the  ice,  and  are  carried  on  with  a  velocity 
equal  to  the  flight  of  a  bird,  or  a  bolt  discharged 
from  a  cross-bow.''  The  piece  of  water  on  which 
the  citizens  of  London  performed  their  pastimes  is 
spoken  of  by  Fitzstephen  as  "the  great  Fen  or 
Moor  which  watereth  the  walls  of  the  City  on  the 
north  side." 

The  banien  region  of  Moorfields  and  Finsbury 
was  first  drained  (no  doubt  to  the  great  indignation 
of  the  London  apprentices)  in  1527,  laid  out  in 
pleasant  walks  in  the  reign  of  James  I.,  and  first 
built  on  after  the  Great  Fire,  when  all  the  City  was 
turned  topsy-turvy.  Moorfields  before  this  must 
have  been  a  melancholy  region,  with  raised  paths 
and  refuse-heaps,  deep  black  ditcheS,  not  in- 
odorous, and  detestable  open  sewers  ;  a  walk  for 
thieves  and  lovers,  suicides  and  philosophers,  and 
as  Howes  (1631)  says,  "held  impossible  to  be 
reformed." 

It  is  described  by  Peter  Cunningham,  in  a  few 
ljn?s  that  coijceal  much  research,  as  a  place  for 


cudgel-players  and  train-band  musters,  for  its  mad- 
house (one  of  the  lions  of  London),  and  for  its 
wrestlers,  pedestrians,  bookstall-keepers,  and  ballad- 
sellers.  Bjen  Jonson  makes  old  Knowell  follow  his 
son  there,  when  he  has  the  suspicious  appointment 
in  the  Old  Jewry ;  and  worthy  Brain  worm  has  to 
do  his  best  to  screen  his  young  master.  In  "  The 
Embassy  to  England  in  1626"  of  Bassompierre, 
that  French  ambassador  mentions,  after  dining 
(the  Duke  and  Earls  of  Montgomery  and  Holland 
having  brought  him  home),  taking  a  fashionable 
walk  in  the  Moorfields.  Sir  William  Davenant 
(Charles  II.)  wittily  talks  of  the  laundresses  and 
bleachers  of  Moorfields,  "  whose  acres  of  old  hnen 
make  a  show  hke  the  fields  of  Carthagena  (the 
great  naval  depot  of  Spain),  when  the  five  months' 
shifts  of  the  whole  fleet  are  washed  and  spread." 
In  one  of  Peter  Cunningham's  series  of  admirably- 
selected  extracts  bearing  on  London  topography, 
we  find  chatty  Pepys  (June,  1661)  going  to  Moor- 
fields to  see  the  northern  and  western  men  wrestle. 
Then  comes  a  fray  in  Moorfields  between  the 
butchers  and  weavers,  described  by  the  same 
diarist,  very  characteristic  of  the  old  guild  jealou- 
sies, not  even  then  quite  forgotten  - — "  26th  July, 
1664.  Great  discourse  yesterday  of  the  fray  in 
Moorfields;  how  the  butchers  at  first  did  beat 
the  weavers,  between  whom  there  hath  been  ever 
an  old  competition  for  mastery,  but  at  last  the 
weavers  rallied,  and  beat  them.  At  first  the 
butchers  knocked  down  all  for  weavers  that  had 
green  or  blue  aprons,  till  they  were  fain  to  pull 
them  off  and  put  .them  in  their  breeches.  At  last 
the  butchers  were  fain  to  pull, off  their  sleeves,  that 
they  might  not  be  known,  and  were  soundly 
beaten  out  of  the  field,  and  some  deeply  wounded 
and  bruised;  till  at  last  the  weavers  went  out 
triumphing,  calling,  '  ^100  for  a  butcher !'" 

In  167 1,  Shadwell,  a  close  imitator  of  Ben 
Jonson  and  the  old  school  whom  Dryden  ridiculed, 
sneers,  in  his  "  Humourist,"  at  a  French  surgeon, 
originally  a  barber,  whose  chief  customers  were  the 
cudgel-players  of  Moorfields,  and  drawers  (waiters) 
whose  heads  had  been  broken  with  quart-pots. 
In  the  "  Scowrers"  (so  called  after  the  predecessors 


Moorfields.] 


CARPENTERS'   HALL. 


197 


of  the  Mohocks,  those  London  night-roysterers 
who  made  even  Swift  tremble),  the  same  fat  poet 
makes  Lady  Maggot,, a  vulgar  pretender,  talk  with 
contempt  of  walking  with  her  husband.  "  Well;" 
says  the  insolent  parvenu,  "  I  shall  never  teach  a 
citizen  manners.  I  warrant  you  think  you  are  in 
Moorfields,  seeing  haberdashers  walking  with  their 
whole  fireside."  Garth  alludes  to  the  cheap  book- 
stalls of  Moorfields ;  and  long  after  Gray  refers  ip 
a  letter  to  Warton  to  "  a  penny  history  that  hangs 
upon  the  rails  in  Moorfields ;"  while  Tom  Brown 
(1709,  Queen  Anne),  to  illustrate  the  insolence 
and  forgetfulness  of  prosperity,  describes  how  a 
cutler  despises  a  knife-grinder,  and  "a  well-grown 
Paul's  Chuirchyard  bookseller,  one  of  the  trade 
that  sells  second-hand  books  under  the  trees  in 
Moorfields." 

Carpenters'  Hall,  on  die  southern  side  of  London 
Wall,  is  one  of  'the  few  City  Halls  which  escaped 
the  Great  Fire  of  1666.  It  was  a,lso,  says  Timbs, 
nearly  destroyed  in  a  great  fire  Oct.  6,  1849,  when 
the  end  walls  and  windows  were  burned  out,  and 
the  staircase  and  roof  much  damaged ;  while  the 
burning  building'was  only  separated  from  Drapers' 
Hall  by  the  garden  and  fcffe-court.  The  Hall  was 
originally  built  in  1429.  The  walls  of  old  London 
faced  it,  and  beyond  were  Moorfields,  Finsbury, 
and  open  ground.  The  exterior  possesses  no  trace 
of  antiquity.  The  court-rooms  were  built  in  1664, 
and  the  principal  staircase  and  entrance-hall  by 
W.  Jupp  about  1780;  the  latter  is  richly  decorated 
with  bas-reliefs  of  carpentry  figures  and  imple- 
ments, with  heads  of  Vitruvius,  Palladio,  Inigo 
Jones,  and  Wren,  designed  by  Bacon;  atid  the 
street  archway  has  also  a  fine  bust  of  Inigo  Jones, 
by  Bacon. 

The  Great  Hall  has  a  rich  and  beautiful  ceiling, 
put  up  in  1 7 16,  the  supporting  pillars  'splringing 
from  the  corbels  of  the  old  arched  timber  roof  On 
the  western  side,  surmounted  by  an  embattled  oak 
beam,  is  a  series  of  four  fresco  paintings,  which 
were  discovered  in  1845  by  a  workman  in  repairing 
the  hall.  The  subjects  are  divided  by  columns 
painted  in  distemper;  the  ground-work  is  laths, 
with  a  thick  layer  of  brown  earth  and  clay  held 
well  together  with  straw,  and  a  layer  of  lime,  upon 
which  the  paintings  are  executed. 

The  subjects  are : — i.  Noah  receiving  the  com- 
mands from  the  Almighty  for  the  construction  of 
the  ark ;  in  another  portion  of  the  picture  are 
Noah's  three  sons  at  work".  2.  King  Josiah  order- 
ing the  repair  of  the  Temple  (2  Kings  xxii.); 
mentioning  carpenters  and  builders  and  masons  as 
having  no  reckoning  of  money  made  with  vthem, 
"  because  they  dealt  faithfully."     3.  Joseph  at  work 


as  a  carpenter,  the  Saviour  as  a  boy  gathering  the 
chips ;  Mary  spinning  with  the  distaff;  the  figure  of 
Joseph  represents  that  in  Albert  Durer's  woodcut 
of  the  same  incident,  executed  in  1 5 II.  4.  Christ 
teaching  in  the  synagogue ;  "  Is  not  this  the  car- 
penter's  son  ?  "  Each  painting  has  a  black-letter 
inscription,  more  or  less  perfect.  The  figures  are 
of  the  school  of  Holbein ;  the  costumes  are  temp. 
Henry  VIII.  Above  the  picture,  in  the  spandrel 
of  the  arch,  are  painted  the  Company's  arms,  and 
"  Shreeves  "  and  "  Robard  "  of  an  inscription  re- 
main, intimating  it  to  commemorate  the  benefit 
of  some  sheriffs.  The  southern  wall  has  some 
decorative  Elizabethan  work.  The  eastern  window 
has  carved  oak  mullions  and  Renaissance  bases, 
and  some  armorial  painted  glass,  date  1586.  There 
are  a  few  carved  wooden  panels,  besides  the  series 
of  corbels,  some  of  good  workmanship. 

About  the  date  of  the  Carpenters'  Company's 
earliest  charter  there  is  considerable  uncertainty. 
Their  common  seal  and  grant  of  arms  js  dated 
1466 ;  and  a  guild  of  carpentry  is  noticed  in 
142 1-2.  The  earliest  entry  in  the.  Company's 
books  is  dated  1438  ;  they  contain  many  proofs  of 
their  power  over  the  trade.  Among  the  pictures 
are  portraits  of  William  Portington,  master  carpenter 
to  the  Ocowa,  temp.  Elizabeth  and  James  I.;  and 
John  Scott,  ordnance  carpenter  and  carriage-maker, 
temp.  C\i3.r\QS  11.  Th.e  Company  also  possess  four 
very  curious  caps  or  crowns  (the  oldest  1561),  still 
used  by  themast^  and  wardens.  Among  their 
plate  are  three  silver-gilt  hanaps{T.6ii,  1612;;  1628), 
which  are  borne  in  procession  round  the  hall  on 
election-day.  Cakes  are  presented  to  the  members 
of  the  court  on  Twelfth  Day,  and  ribbon-money  to 
them  on  Lord  Mayor's  Day. 

Moorfields  was  crowded  after  the  Great  Fire. 
"  The  poor  inhabitants,"  writes  Evelyn,  "  were  dis- 
persed about  St.  George's  Fields,  and  Moorfields, 
as  far  as  Highgate,  and  several  miles  in  circle ; 
some  under  tents,  some  under  miserable  huts  and 
hovels;  many  without  a  rag  or  any  necessary 
utensils,  bed,  or  board,  who  from  delicateness, 
riches,  and  easy  accommodations,  in  stately  and 
well-furnished  houses,  were  now  reduced  to  ex- 
tremest  poverty  and  misery.  In  this  calamitous 
condition,  I  returned  with  a  sad  heart  to  my  house, 
blessing  and  adoring  the  distinguishing  mercy  of 
God  to  me  ^.nd  mine,  who,  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
ruin,  was  like  Lot,  in  my  little  Zoar,  safe  and 
sound." 

"  Here  in  Moorfields,"  says  Strype,  "  is  the  new 
Artillery  Ground,  so  called  in  distinction  from 
another  artillery  garden  near  St.  Mary  Spittal,  where 
formerly  the  Artillery  Company  exercised ;    who, 


f§§ 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[MooffleldS. 


about  the  latter  end  of  King  James  I.  his  reign, 
were  determined  to  remove  thence,  and  to  hold  their 
trainings  and  practice  of  arms  here ;  being  the  third 
great  field  from  Moorgate,  next  to  the  six  windmills, 
which  field,  Mr.  Leat,  one  of  the  twenty  captains, 
with  great  pains,  was  divers  years  a-preparing  to 
that  purpose.  The  reason  of  this,  their  remove, 
was,  because  now  their  meetings  and  number  con- 
sisted of  many  more  soldiers  than  the  old  ground 
could  well  contain,  being  sometimes  6,000.  Though 


weight  in  their  ears  than  the  finest  oratory.  On 
marching  to  join  the  Earl  of  Essex,  this  was  his 
speech :  "  Come,  my  boys,  my  brave  boys,  let  us 
pray  heartily  and  fight  heartily ;  I  will  run  the  same 
fortune  and  hazards  with  you.  Remember  the 
cause  is  for  God ;  and  for  yourselves,  your  wives, 
and  children.  Come,  my  honest  brave  boys,  pray 
heartily  and  fight  heartily,  and  God  will  bless  you." 
The  Tabernacle,  in  Moorfields,  was  built  in  1752 ; 
previously  to  which,  in  1741,  shortly  after  White- 


HALL  OF  THE   CARPENTERS    COMPANY. 


sometimes,  notwithstanding,  they  went  to  the  old 
artillery,  and  continued  so  to  do  in  my  memory." 

It  was  this  company,  then  known  by  the  name 
of  the  Trained-bands,  which  decided  the  fate  of 
the  great  civil  war.  On  every  occasion  they 
behaved  with  the  spirit  and  perseverance  of  the 
most  veteran  troops.  They  were  comrnanded  by 
Skippon,  captain  of  the  Artillery  Garden,  who  had 
served  long  in  Holland,  and  raised  himself  from 
a  common  soldier  to  the  rank  of  captain,  and 
proved  himself  an  excellent  officer.  From  the 
service  he  had  been  in  he  came  over  full  of  pre- 
judice against  the  Church  and  State,  so  was  greatly 
m  the  confidence  of  his  party.  He  was  totally 
illiterate,  but  his  speeches  to  his  soldiers  had  more 


field's  separation  from  Wesley,  some  Calvinistic 
Dissenters,  says  Mr.  Timbs,  raised  for  Whitefield  a 
large  shed  near  the  Foundry,  in  Moorfields,  upon  a 
piece  of  ground  lent  for  the  purpose,  until  he  should 
return  from  America.  From  the  temporary  nature 
of  the  structure  it  was  called  the  Tabernacle,  in 
allusion  to  the  Tabernacle  of  the  Israelites  in  the 
Wilderness  ;  and  the  name  became  the  designation 
of  the  chapels  of  the  Calvinistic  Methodists  gene- 
rally. Whitefield's  first  pulpit  here  is  said  to  have 
been  a  grocers  sugar  hogshead,  an  eccentricity  not 
improbable.  Silas  Todd  describes  the  Moorfields 
Tabernacle,  about  1740,  as  "a  ruinous  place,  with 
an  old  pantile  covering,  a  few  rough  deal  boards 
put  together  to  constitute  a  temporary  pulpit,  and 


Moorfields  ] 


THE  OLD  BEDLAM. 


199 


illlilllilil|;:i''''<i>li|4iO>s^ 

l!IIIIMIIiiaiiiadwJii'.i-'-M^^    ' 


200 


OLD  AND   NEW   LOISTDON. 


rMoorfields. 


several  other  decayed  timbers,  which  composed 
the  whole  structure.''  John  Wesley  also  preached 
here  (the  Foundry,  as  it  was  called),  at  five  in 
the  morning  and  seven  in  the  evening.  The 
men  and  women  sat  apart ;  and  there  were  no 
pews,  or  difference  of  benches,  or  appointed 
place  for  any  person.  At  this  chapel  the  first 
Methodist  Society  was  formed  in  1740.  "In 
1752,  the  wooden  building  was  taken  down,' the 
site  was  leased  by  the  City  of  London,  and  the 
present  chapel  was  built,  with  a  lantern  roof  It 
is  now  occupied  by  Independents,  and  will  hold 
about  4,000  persons.  This  chapel  was  the  cradle 
of  Methodism;  the  preaching-places  had  hitherto 
been  Moorfields,  Mary-le-bone  Fields,  and  Ken- 
nington  Common."  The  building  here  alluded  to 
was  pulled  down  in  1868,  and  a  smaller  chapel 
erected  on  the  site. 

The  old  Bedlam,  one  of  the  chief  lions  of  Moor- 
fields, was  a  low,  dismal-looking  pile ;  enclosed  by 
heavy  gates,  and  surrounded  by  squalid  houses. 
'  "  When  I  remember  Moorfields  first,"  says 
"Aleph"  {i.e.,  Mr.  William  Harvey),  "it  was  a 
large  open  quadrangular  space,  shut  in  by  the 
Pavement  to  the  west,  the  hospital  and  its  out- 
buildings to  the  south,  and  lines  of  shops  without 
fronts,  occupied  chiefly  by  dealers  in  old  furniture, 
to  the  east  and  north.  Most  of  these  shops  were 
covered  in  by  screens  of  canvas  or  rough  boards,  so 
as  to  form  an  apology  for  a  piazza;  and,  if  you  were 
bold  enough,  in  wet  weather  you  might  take  refuge 
under  them,  but  it  was  at  the  imminent  risk  of  your 
purse  or  your  handkerchief.  As  Field  Lane  was 
the  favourite  market  for  wearing  apparel,  at  a  low 
charge,  so  these  stores  afforded  an  endless  choice 
of  decayed  upholstery  to  poorer  purchasers  :  a 
broken-dowiT  four-poster  or  a  rickety  tent  bedstead 
might  be  secured  at  almost  any  price,  '  No  reason- 
able offer  was  refused.'  It  was  interesting  to  inspect 
the  articles  exposed  for  sale :  here  a  cracked 
mirror  in  a  dingy  frame,  a  set  of  hair-seated  chairs, 
the  horse-hair  protruding ;  a  tall,  stiff,  upright  easy 
chair,  without  a  bottom ;  a  cupboard  with  one  shelf 
left  of  three,  and  with  half  a  door ;  here  a  black 
oak  chest,  groaning  to  be  scraped,  so  thick  with 
ancient  dust  that  it  might  have  been  the  den  of 
some  unclean  animal  in  Noah's  ark ;  a  washhand- 
stand,  with  a  broken  basin ;  a  hall  clock-case,  with 
a  pendulum,  but  no  dial;  and  other  hopelessly 
invalided  household  necessaries,  too  numerous  to 
mention:  These  miscellaneous  treasures  were 
guarded  by  swarthy  men  and  women  of  Israel, 
who  paraded  in  front  of  their  narrow  doi»inions  aU 
the  working  day ;  and  if  you  did  but  pause  for  an 
instant,  you  must  expect  to  be  dragged  into  some 


hideous  Babel  of  frowsy  chattels,  and  made  a  pur- 
chaser in  spite  of  yourself  Escaping  from  this 
uncomfortable  mart  to  the  hospital  footway,  a 
strange  sense  of  utter  desertion  came  over  you; 
long,  gloomy  lines  of  cells,  strongly  barred,  and 
obscured  with  the  accumulated  dust,  silent  as  the 
grave,  unless  fancy  brought  sounds  of  woe  to  your 
ears,  rose  before  you ;  and  there,  on  each  side  of 
the  principal  entrance,  were  the  wonderful  effigies 
of  raving  and  moping  madness,  chiselled  by  the 
elder  Cibber.  How  those  stone  faces  and  eyes 
glared !  How  sternly  the  razor  must  have  swept 
over  those  bare  heads !  How  listless  and  dead 
were  those  Ijmbs,  bound  with  inexorable  fetters, 
while  the  iron  of  despair  had  pierced  the  hearts  of 
the  prisoned  maniacs !  Those  terrible  present- 
ments of  physical  anguish  were  till  lately  preserved 
in  the  entrance  of  the  new  hospital,  but  a  rUmour 
went  the  round  of  the  press  that  they  were  about 
to  be  removed."  This  presentiment  proved  correct, 
and  these  two  remarkable  statues  may  now  (says 
Mr.  Harvey  in  1863)  be  seen  in  the  South  Kensing- 
ton Museum,  where  they  are  infinitely  less  appro- 
priate than  in  their  old  home. 

"Opposite  to  Bethlem  Hospital,  on  the  north 
side  of  Moorfields,  stood  the  hospital  of  St.  Luke, 
a  long  plain  building,  till  of  late,"  says  Pennant, 
"  appropriated  to  the  same  purposes,  but  totally  in- 
dependent of  the  former."  It  was  founded  on  the 
humane  consideration  that  Bethlem  was  incapable 
of  receiving  all  the  miserable  objects  which  were 
offered.  A  few  years  before  Pennant's  writing,  in 
1790,  the  patients  were  removed  from  the  old 
hospital  to  a  new  one,  erected  under  the  same 
name,  in  Old  Street,  on  the  plan  of  the  former, 
extending  in  front  493  feet. 

In  1753  (says  Timbs)  pupils  were  admitted 
to  the  hospital ;  and  Dr.  Battle,  the  original  phy- 
sician, allowed  medical  men  to  observe  his  practice. 
This  practice  fell  into  disuse,  but  was  revived  in 
1843,  3J^d  3-11  annual  course  of  chemical  lectures 
established,  at  which  pupils  selected  by  the  phy- 
sicians of  the  different  metropoHtan  hospitals  are 
allowed  to  attend  gratuitously.  In  1754  incurable 
patients  were  admitted,  on  payment,  to  the  hospital 
on  Windmill  Hill. 

"There  are  few  buildings  in  the  metropolis, 
perhaps  in  Europe,"  says  Elmes,  "  that,  consider- 
ing the  poverty  of  the  material,  common  English 
clamp-bricks,  possess  such  harmony  of  proportion, 
with  unity  and  appropriateness  of  style,  as  this 
building.  It  is  as  characteristic  of  its  uses  as  that 
of  Newgate,  by  the  same  architect. " 

This  building  was  commenced  in  1782,  when 
green  fields  could  be  seen  in  every  direction,  and 


Moornelds.l 


FINSBURY   FIELDS. 


201 


the  foundation-stone  was  laid  by  the  Duke  of 
Montague,  July  30  ;  the  cost,  about  ;^so,ooo, 
being  defrayed  by  subscriptions.  George  Dance, 
junior,  was  the  architect. 

Since  the  first  admission  of  patients  on  July  30th, 
1751,  to  the  same  day  1791,  4,421  were  admitted, 
of  which  1,936  were  discharged  cured,  and  1,465 
xmcured.  By  a  very  liberal  regulation,  un  cured 
patients  could  be  taken  in  again,  on  the  payment 
of  five  shillings  a  week.  This  was  afterwards 
increased  to  seven  shillings;  so  that  their  firiends 
might,  if  they  pleased,  try  a  second  time  the  force 
of  medicine  on  their  unhappy  relations  or  connec- 
tions. The  number  of  patients  received  into 
the  hospital  from  its  opening  to  April  25,  1809, 
amounted  to  9,042,  of  whom  3,884  were  dis- 
charged uncured  or  as  idiots,  and  35,911  as  cured. 
Seven  hundred  died  during  that  period.  The  old 
hospital  was  at  last  pulled  down  and  replaced  by  a 
row  of  houses. 

The  hospital  was  incorporated  in  1838,  the 
end  infirmaries  added  in  1841;  a  chapel  in  1842, 
and  open  fire-places  set  in  the  galleries  ;  when  also 
coercion  was  abolished,  padded  rooms  ,were  pro- 
vided for  violent  patients,  and  an  airing  ground  set 
apart  for  them  ;  wooden  doors  were  substituted  for 
iron  gates,  and  unnecessary  guards  and  bars  re- 
moved from-  the  windows.  In  1843  were  added 
reading-rooms  and  a  library  for  the  patients,  with 
bagatelle  and  backgammon  boards,  &c.  By  Act  9 
&  10  Vict.,  cap.  100,  the  Commissioners  of 
Lunacy  were  added  to  the  hospital  direction.  In 
1848,  Sir  Charles  Knightley  presented  an  organ  to 
the  chapel,  and  daily  service  was  first  performed. 
The  hospital  was  next  lighted  with  gas ;  the  drain- 
age, ventilation,  and  the  supply  of  water  improved, 
by  subscription  at  the  Centenary  Festival,  June  25, 
1851. 

"On  St.  Luke's  Day  (October  18),  a  large  number 
of  the  patients  are  annually  entertained  with  danc- 
ing and  singing  in  the  great  hall  in  the  centre  of  the 
hospital,  when  the  officers,  nurses,  and  attendants 
join  the  festival.     Balls  are  also  given  fortnightly." 

Since  the  year  1684,  when  Bethlem  Hospital  ad- 
mitted into  its  wards  seventy-three  lunatic  patients, 
and  since  the  establishment  of  St.  Luke's  in  175 1, 
about  40,000  insane  persons  have  been  treated  in 
these  two  institutions.  Within  comparatively  few 
years  insanity  in  England  has  more  than  tripled. 
During  the  last  forty-five  years  or  so,  several  large 
asylums  have  been  built  in  the  metropolitan  coun- 
ties: for  example,  Hanwell,  1831;  Earlswood 
Asylum  for  Idiots,  founded'  in  1847  ;  and  Colney 
Hatch,  185 1.  The  Lunatic  Asylum  for  the  City 
Qf  London  is  situated   m^r   Dartford.      It  was , 


erected  at  the  expense  of  the  Corporation  of 
London,  and  opened  in  the  year  1866,  for  the 
reception  and  treatment  of  lunatic  patients  charge- 
able upon  the  City  of  London,  and  upon  the 
several  unions  in  the  City.  It  contains  accommo- 
dation for  284  patients. 

"Immediately  behind  this  hospital,"  Pennant 
remarks,  "  was  Peerless  Pool,  in  name  altered 
from  that  of  Perilous  Pond,  so  called,  says  old 
Stow,  from  the  numbers  of  youths  who  had  been 
drowned  in  it  in  swimming."  In  our  time, 
says  Pennant  writing  in  1790,  it  has,  at  great 
expense,  been  converted  into  the  finest  and 
most  spacious  bathing-place  now  known  ;  where 
persons  may  enjoy  the  manly  and  useful  exer- 
cise with ,  safety.  Here  is  also  an  excellent 
covered  bath,  with  a  large  pond  stocked  with 
fish,  a  small  library,  a  bowling  green,  and  every 
innocent  and  rational  amusement;  so  that  it  is 
not  without  reason  that  the  proprietor  hath 
bestowed  on  it  the  present  name." 

The  parish  of  St.  Luke  was  taken  out  of  that 
of  St.  Giles,  Cripplegate,  by  an  Act  of  George 
II.'s  reign.  The  same  writer  directs  the  reader's 
attention  to  the  steeple  of  the  church  (built  in 
1732)  which  terminates  most  singularly  in  a  fluted 
obelisk. 

From  Moorfields  we  have  not  far  to  go  to  Fins- 
bury.  It  was  in  Finsbury  Fields,  on  his  return  after 
his  exploits  in  Scotland,  that  the  great  Protector, 
the  Duke  of  Somerset,  was  met  and  congratulated 
by  the  Lord  Mayor,  aldermen,  and  citizens  of 
London.  According  to  the  chronicler,  Holinshed, 
"  The  mayor  and  aldermen,  with  certain  of  the 
commons,  in  their  liveries  and  their  hoods,  hearing 
of  his  approach  to  the  City,  the  8th  of  October 
(1548),  met  him  in  Finsbury  Fields,  where  he  took 
each  of  them  by  the  hand,  and  thanked  them  for 
their  good  wills.  The  Lord  Mayor  did  ride  with 
him  till  they  came  to  the  pond  in  Smithfield,  w.here 
his  grace  left  them,  and  rode  to  his  house  of  Shene 
that  night,  and  the  next  day  to  the  king  at  Hamp- 
ton Court." 

As  the  old  fashionable  medical  quarter  of  Lon- 
don, Finsbury  has  a  pecuhar  interest.  The  special 
localities  of  doctors  used  to  be  Finsbury  Square, 
Finsbury  Pavement,  Finsbury  Place,  Finsbury 
Circus,  Broad  Street,  and  St.  Helen's  Place,  which, 
fifty  years  since,  swarmed  with  doctors  and  sur- 
geons, who  made  larger  earnings  out  of  the  chiefs 
and  prosperous  business  folk  of  the  City  than  the 
W,est-end  faculty  made  out  of  the  Court  and  aris- 
tocracy. At  the  same  time  young  surgeons  and 
doctors  occupied  small  houses  in  the  adjacent 
courts,  just  as  the  young  barristers  and  pleader? 


202 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Finsbury. 


housed  themselves  in  modest  streets  and  yards  near 
the  Inns  of  Court.  William  Eccles,  formerly  surgeon 
of  the  Devonshire  Square  Hospital,  and  Royal  Free 
Hospital,a  notable  surgeon  thirty  orfortyyears  since, 
had  his  first  house  in  Union  Court,  Broad  Street. 
His  successor  (Edward  Chance)  lived  afterwards 
in  the  same  house ;  but  was  about  the  only  surgeon 
residing  in  a  street  which  once  housed  not  less  than 
a  score  of  surgeons  and  physicians.  Broad  Street 
and  Union  Court  are  now  made  up  of  chambers 
tenanted  by  stock-brokers  and  other  City  agents. 
The  last  pre-eminently  great  physician  to  practise 
in  the  City  was  Henry  Jeaffreson,  M.D.  (Senior 
Physician  of  St.  Bartholomew's),  who  died  some 
years  since  in  Finsbury  Square,  where  he  had 
long  made  a  larger  income  than  any  other  doctor  of 
his  day.  Several  eminent  doctors  still  live  in  Fins- 
bury Square  and  Finsbury  Pavement.  St.  Helen's 
Place  (Bishopsgate)  also  still  houses  a  few  well-to-do 
doctors.  Charterhouse  Square  was  another  great 
place  for  East-end  doctors. 

But  the  migrations  of  the  eminent  doctors  is 
not  so  much  due  to  mere  fashion,  as  to  the  centra- 
lisation and  development  of  commerce,  which 
ha.ve  raised  the  rentals  of  thfe  residential  parts  of 
the  quarter  so  prodigioustyj^  that  only  very  wealthy 
folk  could  afford  to  house  themselves  there.  Such 
a  house  as  Mr.  Eccles  had  in  Broad  Street  at  some 
;^2io  a  year  rent  and  taxes,  is  now-a-days  let 
as  offices  and  business  chambers  for  ;£i,ooo  a 
year.  Hence,  the  commercial  Tamilies  have  moved 
westward  from  economy,  as  well  as  from  disin- 
clination to  live  in  a  socially  deserted  district.  The 
doctors  now  swarm  in  Cavendish  Square,  Harley 
Street,  Wimpole  Street,  Henrietta  Street,  Queen 
Anne  Street,  Brook  Street,  Savile  Row,  and  Spring 
Gardens ;  and  in  these  days  of  circular  railways 
and  fast  cabs,  they  are  as  accessible  to  their  un- 
fashionable visitors  in  such  quarters  as  the  old 
Finsbury  doctors  were  to  their  outlying  patients. 

When  the  doctors  and  surgeons  thus  swarmed  in 
the  Finsbury  district,  the  City  and  its  adjacent 
districts  were  largely  inhabited  by  wealthy  families, 
that  have  now  also  migrated  westward,  as  their 
doctors  naturally  have. 

That  Campo  Santo  of  the  Dissenters,  the  Bunhill 
Fields  burial-ground  (no  longer  used  for  inter- 
ments), is  on  the  west  side  of  the  Artillery  Ground, 
and  close  to  Fmsbury  Square. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  the  Bunhill  Fields 
Cemetery  was  the  site  of  the  Great  Plague  pit,  so 
powerfully  described  (from  hearsay)  by  Defoe. 
Peter  Cunningham,  usually  so  exact,  hag  said  so, 
and  every  writer  since  has  followed  in  his  wake. 
That  the  conjecture  is  entirely  erroneous  is  ad- 


mirably shown  in  the  following  accurate  account  by 
Mr.  J.  C.  Jeaffreson,  who  has  devoted  much  time 
to  the  study  of  the  question  : — The  burial-ground 
in  Bunhill  Fields,  said  our  authority  in  1866,  pre- 
serves the  ashes  of  Cromwell's  favourite  minister, 
Dr.  Goodwin,  John  Owen,  the  Puritan  Vice.Chan- 
cellor  of  Oxford,  General  Fleetwood,  John  Bunyan, 
Daniel  Defoe,  John  Home  Tooke,  Isaac  Watts, 
Blake,  Stothard,  Susannah  Wesley  (the  mother  of 
John  Wesley),  and  many  other  eminent  persons. 
The  "  great  pit  in  Finsbury,"  mentioned  by  Defoe 
in  his  "Journal, of  the  Plague  in  1665,"  occu- 
pied ground  that  abuts  on  the  upper  end  of 
Goswell  Street;  whereas  Bunhill  Fields  Cemetery 
lies  within  a  step  of  the  Artillery  Ground,  and  a 
stone's  throw  of  Finsbury  Square.  The  precise 
locality  of  Defoe's  "Pit"  can  be  pointed  out  by 
any  person  familiar  with  the  novelist's  "Journal" 
and  the  map  of  London.  In  the  passage  of 
Defoe  which  describes  how  John  Hayward,  the 
driver  of  a  dead-cart,  was  on  the  point  of  consign- 
ing to  the  gloomy  pit  a  wretched  street-musician, 
who,  whilst  in  a  sound  sleep,  or  perhaps  stupefied 
with  drink,  had  been  thrown  upon  a  load  of  corpses, 
the  writer  of  the  "Journal,"  says,  "Accordingly  when 
John  Hayward,  with  his  bell  and  the  cart,  came 
along,  finding  two  dead  bodies  lie  upon  the  stall, 
they  took  them  up  with  the  instrument  they  used 
and  threw  them  into  the  cart,  and  all  this  while 
the  piper  slept  soundly.  From  thence  they  passed 
along  and  took  in  other  dead  bodies,  till,  as  honest 
John  Hayward  told  me,  they  almost  buried  him 
alive  in  the  cart.  Yet  all  this  while  he  slept 
soundly.  At  length  the  cart  came  to  the  place 
where  the  bodies  were  to  be  thrown  into  the 
ground ;  which,  as  I  do  remember,  was  at  Mount- 
mill  ;  and  as  the  cart  usually  stopped  some  time 
before  they  were  ready  to  shoot  out  the  melancholy 
load  they  had  in  it — as  soon  as  the  cart  stopped 
the  fellow  awaked,  and  struggled  a  little  to  get  his 
head  out  from  among  the  dead  bodies ;  when, 
raising  himself  up  in  the  cart,  he  called  out,  '  Hey! 
where  am  I?'"  Of  the  locaHty  called  Mountmill, 
the  topographer  and  historian,  William  Maitland, 
writing  in  1739,  observes,  in  his  "London,"  "At 
Mountmill,  near  the  upper  end  of  Goswell  Street, 
was  situate  one  of  the  forts  which  were  erected  by 
order  of  Parliament,  for  the  security  of  the  City  of 
London  in  the  year  1643.  But  the  same  being 
rendered  useless  at  the  end  of  the  Civil  War,  a 
windmill  was  erected  thereon ;  from  which  it 
received  its  present  name."  The  popular  impres- 
sion that  Defoe's  "  great  pit  in  Finsbury "  was  on 
the  site  of  the  present  Bunhill  Fields  Cemetery  is 
ng  matter  for  surprise,  when  it  is  known  \\id,\,  th? 


Finsbupy.] 


FINSBURY  AS  AN   ECCLESIASTICAL   PROPERTY. 


203 


ground  of  the  Dissenters'  graveyard  was  actually 
set  apart  and  consecrated,  in  1665,  for  the  recep- 
tion of  victims  of  the  plague.  That  the  place  was 
not  used  for  the  especial  purpose  for  which  it  was 
consecrated,  we  have  Maitland's  authority. 

"  Of  the  ground  thus  set  apart  by  the  Corpora- 
tion of  London  for  a  graveyard  the  City  merely 
owned  a  lease.  Lying  in  the  centre  of  a  large 
tract,  which  the  City  had  held  for  350  years 
under  a  succession  of  leases,  granted  by  successive 
prebendaries  of  Finsbury,  the  civic  authorities  had 
a  limited  right  over  the  spot.  The  fee-simple 
of  the  ground  was  part  of  the  estate  attached  to 
the  prebend  of  Finsbury,  one  of  the  prebends  of 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral  •  and  though  prebendaries  of 
Finsbury  have  repeatedly  renewed  old  leases  and 
granted  new  leases  of  the  land,  the  freehold  of  the 
estate  has  never  passed  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
Church. '  The  last  lease  of  the  Finsbury  estate, 
'  made  by  the  Church  to  the  City,  was  executed  in 
1769,  and  is  a  good  instance  of  the  nice  little 
arrangements  that  were  formerly  made  with  Church 
property.  Under  the  authority  of  a  private  Act  of 
ParUament,  the  then  Prebendary  Wilson  g^ve  a  lease 
of  the  Finsbury  estate  to  the  civic  Corporation  for 
ninety-nine  years,  the  said  lease  being  renewable  at 
the  expiration  of  seventy-three  years,  for  fourteen 
years ;  whereby  the  term  still  'to  expire  would  be- 
come forty  years,  and  afterwards  renewable  every 
fourteen  years,  in  like  manner  for  ever.  ;  Hence, 
under  this  grant,  the  City,  by  duly  renewing  the 
lease,  could  hold  for  ever  ground  which  is  now 
covered  by  some  of  the  most  valuable  residential 
property  in  London,*  By  this  same  private  Act," 
the  writer  goes  on  to  say,  "the  City  was  empowered 
to  keep  three-sixths  .of  ,the  net  rents',  profits,  and 
annual  proceeds  arising  from  the  estate  during-  the 
lease.  Two-sixths  of  the  same  revenue  were  re- 
served to  Prebendaiy  Wilson  and  his  assigns,  and 
the  remaining  one-sixth  of  the  income  was  re- 
tained for  the  prebendary  and  his  successors.  This 
pleasant  little  arrangement  was  sanctioned  by  legis- 
lation in  the  good  old  times !  As  holders  of  the 
largest  single  share  of  the  income,  the  civic  autho- 
rities took  the  entire  management  of  the  estate, 
which  has,  certainly,  prospered  in  their  hands.  But 
though  the  rent-roll  has  increased  prodigiously 
under  civic  management,  the  rulers  of  the  City — 


*  This  appears  to  be  an  error  on  the  part  of  the  writer  we  are  quoting. 
Mr.  Timbs,  in  his  "Curiosities  of  London,"  1868,  p.  76,  quoting  from  a 
communication  to  the  Ctiy  Press,  remarks ; — "It  is  said  the  Act  of 
Parliament  authorised  the  renewal  of  the  lease  in  perpetuity.  .  .  . 
This  is  not  the  fact.  The  mistake  has  arisen  from  the  marginal  note 
saying  the  lease  is  renewable  ;  but  there  is  nothing  in  the  Act  to  warrant 
the  note,  and  no  one  at  this  distance  of  time  can  explain  how  the  error 
has  arisen." 


SO  far  as  one  portion  of  the  estate,  i.e.,  Bunhill 
Fields  Cemetery,  is  concerned — cannot  be  said  to 
have  acted  discreetly,  and  in  one  matter  affect- 
ing the  entire  property  they  have  been  guilty  of 
astounding  remissness.  Haying  only  a  leasehold 
tenure  of  the  graveyard,  they  systematically  sold 
the  graves  in  perpetuity,  accepting  for  them  money 
which  the  buyers  of  graves  would  never  have 
thought  of  paying  for  ground  that  might  be  built 
upon,  or  turned  into  a  catde-market,  at  the  end  of 
a  ninety-nine  years'  lease.  Having  originally  the 
right  to  renew  the  lease  on  the  expiry  of  seventy- 
three  years,  the  tenants  omitted  to  renew ;  and,  in 
consequence,  through  this  omission,  their  interest 
in  the  estate  would  terminate  in  1867. 

"It  should  be  observed,  that  in  1801  the  Corpo- 
ration bought  the  interest  in  the  estate  secured  to 
the  Wilson  family  ;  consequently,  since  the  date  of 
that  purchase,  the  City  has  received  five-sixths  of 
the  annual  net  income  derived  from  the  property. 
In  1842 — in  which  year,  by  the  terms  of  the  agree- 
ment, the  Corporation  could  have  renewed  the 
lease — the  leaseholders  negotiated  for  the  purchase 
of  the  freehold  of  the  estate,  and  the  Bishop  of 
London  introduced  a  bill  into  the  Upper  House 
for  legalising  the  sale.  Having  passed  the  Lords, 
this  Bill  encountered  defeat  in  the  Commons,  where 
it  was  rejected  as  a  money  bill  that  ought  to  have 
originated  in  the  Lower  Chamber.  Occupied  with 
this  Parliamentary  contest,  the  civic  authorities 
allowed  the  time  to  pass  without  exercising  their 
right  to  renew  the  lease.;  and,  in  consequence  of 
this  remissness,  their  interests,  in  1867,  devolved 
on  the  Ecclesiastical  Commissioners,  in  whom  the 
estate  of  the  prebendary  of  Finsbury  vested  in  1856. 
On  the  termination  of  the  civic  interest  the  Com- 
missioners derived  from  the  property  about  sixty 
thousand  pounds  per  annum. 

"  Not  only  has  the  City  lost  its  hold  over  this 
magnificent  rental,  but  it  finds  itself  in  an  awk- 
ward discussion  with  the  buyers  of  graves  in  Bunhill 
Fields  Cemetery  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Eccle- 
siastical Commissioners  on  the  other.  Apprehensive 
that  the  graveyard  may  be  desecrated  on  the 
termination  of  the  lease,  the  Dissenters  have,  on 
two  occasions,  asked  the  Commissioners  to  preserve 
the  ground  from  profanation.  On  each  occasion 
the  Commissioners  have  expressed  a  readiness  to 
settle  terms.  For  ;^io,ooo  they  will  make  over 
to  trustees  the  burial-ground — the  freehold  of  which 
is  computed  as  worth  ;^  100,000 — on  condition 
that,  should  it  be  converted  to  secular  uses,  their 
present  rights  revive.  Moreover,  the  Commissioners 
have  expressed  their  readiness  to  preserve  the 
sacred  character  of  the  ground,  provided  the  civic 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Finsbut^* 


204 

authorities  pay  into  the  purse  of  the  Commission 
the  sums  which  they  have  received  for  the  fee- 
simple  of  graves  which  they  had  no  power  to  sell. 
Anyhow,  for  ;^io,ooo  the  custody  of  the  cemetery 
may  be  purchased ;  and,  if  no  better  terms  can  be 
made  with  the  Commissioners,  it  seems  clear  that 
the  City  is  morally  bound  to  supply  this  sum,  for 
the  fulfilment  of  its  engagements  to  the  purchasers 
of  graves. 

"There  are  good  reasons  to  believe  that  the 
Commissioners  will  not   stand  out  for   the   last 


Finsbury  estate.  The  prebendaries,  who  have 
received  the  one-sixth  of  the  revenue  reserved 
to  the  prebend,  by  taking  a  sixth  of  the, money 
derived  from  the  sale  of  graves,  may  be  said  to 
have  given  ecclesiastical  sanction  to  the  defective 
arrangement ;  and  however  irregular  the  arrange- 
ment and  the  sanction  may  be,  it  would  not  be 
wise  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Commissioners  to  dis- 
regard  them.  The  relations  of  the  City  and  the 
Commission  in  this  matter  involve  some  delicate 
questions.     However,  as  a  body  that  has  greatly 


BUNHILL  FIELDS   BURIAL-GROUND. 


farthing  of  the  sum  just  mentioned.  In  previous 
arrangements  concerning  burial-grounds — the  grave- 
yard, for  instance,  which  contains  John  Wesley's 
bones— they  acted  in  a  conciliatory  and  fair 
manner;  and  in  the  present  case  special  con- 
siderations counsel  them  to  take  a  moderate 
course.  In  the  first  place,  the  ground  was  actually 
consecrated ;  and  an  Ecclesiastical  Commission 
could  not,  without  indecency,  authorise  the  dis- 
turbance of  a  consecrated  burial-ground.  More- 
over, the  Ecclesiastical  Commissioners  are  morally 
bound  by  the  action  of  the  City.  Throughout  the 
stewardship  of  the  municipal  authorities  the  Church 
has  received  a  portion  of  the  proceeds  of  the 


benefited  by  the  entire  transaction,  and  as  a  society 
bound  to  fulfil  its  contracts  with  private  persons, 
the  Corporation:  should  effect  a  settlement  of  the 
dispute,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  ;!^io,ooo. 

"  An  account  of  the  negotiations  for  securing 
Bunhill  Fields  to  the  Corporation  of  London  as  a 
place  for  recreation,  and  to  prevent  desecration 
of  the  graves  of  many  eminent  Englishmen,  was 
eventually  presented  to  the  Common  Council.  The 
report  stated  that  the  Ecclesiastical  Commissioners 
appear  to  have  proposed  to  accept,  for  the  pre- 
servation of  the  ground,  five-sixths  of  the  purchase- 
money  paid  for  vaults,  &c.,  to  the  Corporation 
during  its  current  lease.    The  total  receipts  were 


Finsbury.) 


TEDIOUS  NEGOTIATIONS. 


205 


206 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Finsbury. 


;^24,ooo,  i.e.,  averaging  ;^247  a  year.     Half  this 
sum  had  been  applied  in  connection  with  the  pre- 
bend of  Finsbury;  the  other  was  received  by  the 
Corporation.      Failing  agreement  about  the  price 
to  be  paid  by  one  of  these  parties  to  the  other, 
the  negotiations  stood  over.     The  latest  proposal 
of  the  Commissioners  was  to  arbitrate.     The  com- 
mittee declined  this,  and  denied  the  existence  of  a 
legal  claim  on  the  Corporation  on  the  part  of  the 
Commissioners.     The  report  concluded  by  stating 
that  no  useful  result  would  be  obtained  by  further 
correspondence,  and  recommended  that  the  Corpora- 
tion should  repeat  the  offer  to  preserve  the  ground 
for  public  use  and  from  desecration,  plant,  and 
watch  it,  in  failure  of  performing  which  the  land 
might  revert  to  the  Commissioners  ;  also  that  they 
should  be  authorised  to  second  the  efforts  of  parties 
who  might  apply  to  Parliament  or  the  public  for  aid 
to  save  the  graves  from  speculating  builders,  and 
the  site  for  public  service.    The  report  was  adopted, 
and  referred  back  to  be  carried  into  effect.     It  was 
alleged  that  the  Commissioners  valued  the  ground 
at  about  ^100,000,  and  asked  what  the  Corpora- 
tion  would  give    for    its  preservation.       If  this 
be  true,''  said  a  writer  to  the   Times,  "the  Com- 
missioners, considering  that  they  represented  a  party 
which  has  already  received  cash  for  preserving  the 
graves,    were    hard    driven.      The    Ecclesiastical 
Commissioners  are  probably  not  so  black  as  they 
are  painted.      Would  it  not  serve  all  ends  if  the 
Government   introduced  a*  Bill  to  the  House    of 
Commons  to  permit,  or,  better  still,  to  enjoin  the 
Conimissioners  to  relax  their  hold  on  the  ground, 
be  content  with  the  half  share   of  profits  already 
received,  and  that  the  onus   of  maintaining  the 
ground  should  be  placed  upon  the  recipients  of  the 
other  moiety,  who  are  anxious  to  receive  it?    It 
has  been  stated  officially  that  the  Commissioners 
already  receive  ^^50,000    a  year  on   account   of 
the  Finsbury  prebend.      It  appears  that  in  1655, 
when  the  estates  of  that  office  were  sold,  the  City 
bought  the  fee-simple,  and  for  ten  years  following 
paid  no  rent.     At  the  Restoration  the  property  was 
taken  back,  rent  demanded  and  paid^  to  recover 
which  the  Corporation  farmed  part  of  the  land  for 
iriterments,  which  began  as  early  as  1665,  or  the 
Great  Plague.     At  one  time  the  City  received  as 
much  as  ;^7oo  per  annum  from  this  source.     In 
1852  the  ground  was   closed,   and  the  registers 
removed  to  Somerset  House.    This  year  (1867) 
the  whole  estate  reverts  to  the  Ecclesiastical  Com- 
missioners, who  may  feel  it  their  duty  so  far  to 
violatd  their  natural  feelings  as  to  let  ifcfor  building 
leases.    As  literary  men,  if  not  equally  as  cosmo- 
politans, the  late  and  present  Chancellors  of  the 


Exchequer  ought  to  unite  in  exonerating  the  Eccle- 
siastical Commissioners  from  this  probably  painful 
sense.  It  would  be  disgraceful  to  the  Government 
if  the  desecration  took  place." 

This  negotiation  was  eventually  completed,  and 
the  old  cemetery  is  now  a  place  where  meditative 
men  may  wander  and  quietly  contemplate  the  old 
text,  "  Dust  to  dust."  The  Act  for  the  preservation 
of  the  ground  as  an  open  space  was  passed  15  th 
July,  1867,  and  it  was  reopened  by  the  Lord  Mayor 
on  the  14th  of  October,  1869.  It  may  be  added 
that  a  monument  to  Defoe,  the  immortal  author 
of  "Robinson  Crusoe,''  subscribed  by  boys  and 
girls,  was  inaugurated  on  the  isth  of  September  of 
the  following  year. 

Lackington,  one  of  the  most  celebrated^  of  our 
early  cheap  booksellers,  lived  in  Chiswell  Street, 
Finsbury,  and  afterwards  at  the  "Temple  of  the 
Muses,"  Finsbury  Place.  The  shop,  into  which  a 
coach  and  six  could  be  driven,  was  destroyed  by 
fire  in  1841.  In  1792  Lackington  cleared  ;^S,ooo 
by  his  business,  and  retired  with  a  fortune  in  1798. 
The  following  selections  from  his  autobiography 
show  a  curious  mixture  of  piety,  vanity,  and  love 
of  business. 

"I  was  bom,"  he  says,  "at  Wellington,  in 
Somersetshire,  31st  August  (old  style),  1746.  My 
father,  George  Lackington,  was  a  journeyman  shoe- 
rnaker.  He  displeased  his  own  father  by  marry- 
ing a  woman  without  a  shilling,  of  a  mean  family, 
in  my  grandmother  Trott's  poor  cottage ;  and  that 
good  woman  took  me  to  church,  unknown  to  ray 
father,  who  was  (nominally)  a  Quaker,  that  being 
the  religion  of  his  ancestors.  My.  father  ulti- 
mately became  a  drunkard,  but  to  our  mother  we  are 
indebted  for  everything.  Never  did  I  hear  of  a 
woman  who  worked  and  lived  so  hard  as  she  did 
to  support  eleven  children.  For  many  years  she 
worked  nineteen  and  twenty  hours  out  of  every 
twenty-four.  Whenever  she  was  asked  to  drink 
half  a  pint  of  ale,  she  always  asked  leave  to  take 
it  home  to  her  husband,  who  was  always  so  mean" 
and  selfish  as  to  drink  it.  Out  of  love  to  us  she 
abstained  from  all  drink  save  water.  Her  food  was 
chiefly  broth  (little  more  than  water  and  oatmeal), 
turnips,  potatoes,  cabbages,  carrots.  .  Her  children 
fared  somewhat  better,  but  not  much.  I  was  put 
for  two  or  three  years  to  a  dame  school,  kept  by 
an  old  woman,  where  I  was  thought,  from  being 
able  to  repeat  several  chapters  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, to  be  a  prodigy  of  science ;  but  my  mother 
soon  became  so  poor  that  she  could  not  afford  two- 
pence a  week  for  my  schooling.  Indeed,  I  was 
forced  to  nurse  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and  soon 
forgot  what  little  I  knew.     Then  I  became  the 


Finsbury.] 


A  STRANGE  BIOGRAPHY. 


207 


captain  of  all  the  mischievous  boys  in  the  place ; 
so  that  if  an  old  woman's  lanthorn  were  kicked  out 
of  her  hand,  or  drawn  up  a  sign-post,  or  if  any- 
thing were  fastened  to  her  tail,  or  if  her  door  were 
nailed  up,  I  was  sure  to  be  accused  of  the  crime 
whether  I  were  guilty  or  not.  For  spiriting  the  town 
lads  to  mock  our  butcher,  who  was  given  to  yawning, 
I  had  nearly  been  killed  like  one  of  his  calves,  for 
he  flung  his  cleaver  at  me.  At  ten  years  old  I  cried 
apple  pies  in  the  street.  I  had  noticed  a  famous 
pieman,  and  thought  I  could  do  it  better  myself 
My  mode  of  crying  pies  soon  made  me  a  street 
favourite,  and  the  old  pie  merchant  left  off  trade. 
You  see,  friend,  I  soon  began  to  make  a  noise  in 
the  world.  But  one  day  I  threw  my  master's  child 
out  of  a  wheelbarrow,  so  I  went  home  again,  and 
was  set  by  my  father  to  learn  his  trade,  continuing 
with  him  for  several  years.  My  fame  as  a  pieman 
led  to  my  selling  almanacks  on  the  market  days  at 
Christmas.  Tliis  was  to  my  mind,  and  I  sorely 
vexed  the  vendors  of  '  Moore,'  '  Wing,'  and  '  Poor 
Robin.'  My  next  move  was  to  be  bound  appren- 
tice for  seven  years  to  Mr.  George  and  Mrs.  Mary 
Bowdon — ^yes,  to  both  wife  and  husband,  and  an 
honest,  worthy  couple  they  were.  They  were  Ana- 
baptists, and  I  attended  their  place  of  worship; 
though,  for  a  long'  while,  I  had  no  idea  that  I  had 
any  concern  in  what  the  minister  preached  about. 
Master  had  two  sons  who  had  been  at  school,  but 
all  they  read  was  the  Bible.  Master's  whole  library 
consisted  of  a  school-size  Bible,  Watt's  Hymns, 
Foote  on  Baptism,  Culpepper's  'Herbal,'  'The  His- 
tory of  the  Gentle  Craft,'  '  Receipts  in  Physic,'  and 

a '  Ready  Reckoner.' 

*  #  #  * 

"  I  was  soon  able  to  read  easy  parts  of  the  Bible 
and  Wesley's  Hymns ;  every  leisure  minute  was  so 
employed.  I  worked  from  six  to  ten,  yet  managed 
to  read  six  chapters  every  day,  as  well  as  some  ser- 
mons. My  eyes  were  good,  and  I  could  often  read 
by  moonlight.  I  was  far  gone  in  enthusiasm,  and 
on  a  Sunday,  being  locked  in  my  room  to  prevent 
my  going  to  meeting,  I  opened  the  Bible  and  read, 
'He  has  given  His  angels  charge  concerning  thee, 
and  in  their  hands  shall  they  bear  thee  up,  lest  at 
any  time  thou  shouldest  dash  thy  foot  against  a 
stone.'  Wherefore  I  threw  myself  out  of  window. 
I  was  carried  back  to  bed,  where  it  was  a  month 
before  I  recovered  the  use  of  my  limbs.  I  was 
ignorant  enough  to  think  that  the  Lord  had  not 
used  me  very  well,  and  resolved  not  to  put  so  much 

trust  in  Him  for  the  future. 

#  #  *  « 

"  For  many  years  I  have  expended  two-thirds  of 
my  profitSj^^t  neyer  inare."|f  OSSTjJ  |)eckoned 


across  the  way  for  a  pot  of  porter ;  then  a  dinner, 
roast  'fea\ ;  then  with  an  addition  of  ham ;  and  then 
a  wind-up  of  pudding.  Once  a  glass  of  brandy-and- 
water  was  a  luxury;  raisin  wine  followed;  then 
good  red  port ;  nor  was  sherry  long  behind.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  country  was  a  necessity  once  a 
year ;  lodgings  first,  then  my  own  mansion  ;  and  at 
length  the  inconveniences  of  a  stage  coach  were 
remedied  by  a  chariot. ' 

^  TP  TT  "S" 

"  My  new  wife's  attachment  to  books  was  for 
tunate.  She  delighted  to  be  in  the  shop,  and  could 
readily  get  any  article  that  was  asked  for.  Such 
constant  attention  procured  me  many  customers. 
I  wanted  a  larger  stock,  but  had  no  capital.  Mr. 
John  Dennis,  an  oilman,  of  Cannon  Street,  offered 
to  be  my  partner,  and  to  advance  money  in  pro- 
portion to  the  stock.  We  soon  laid  out  the  cash  in 
second-hand  books,  which  at  once  doubled  them. 
In  1779  we  published  a  catalogue  of  12,000 
volumes.    We  took  ^£20  the  first  week." 

This  partnership  was  dissolved  in  1780.  In  that 
year  Lackington  determined  to  give  no  credit,  and 
though  he  admits  he  had  some  difficulties  in  carry- 
ing out  the  plan,  he  says  it  fully  answered.  His 
business  steadily  increased ;  and  the  catalogue  for 
1784  contained  30,000  volumes.  He  declares  he 
sold  at  a  very  small  profit,  and,  ultimately,  was  able 
to  give  a  higher  price  when  purchasing  than  other 
booksellers.  At  the  trade  sales  there  were  often 
80,000  volumes  sold  in  an  afternoon.  It  was  com- 
mon to  destroy  one-half  or  three-fourths  of  them  in 
order  to  keep  up  the  prices.  This  Lackington  did 
for  some  time,  but  soon  resolved  not  to  destroy  any 
good  books,  but  to  sell  them  off  at  a  half  or  a 
quarter  of  the  publication  prices. 

"My  purchases,"  says  he,  "were  nowvery  large. 
I  have  purchased  6,000  copies  of  one  book,  and  at 
one  time  have  had  10,000  copies  of  Watts's  Hymns 
and  as  many  of  his  Psalms  in  my  possession.  At 
one  trade  sale  I  have  purchased  books  to  the 
amount  of  ;^s,ooo.  To  remind  me  of  what  has  led 
to  my  prosperity,  I  have  put  for  a  motto  on  the 
doors  of  my  carriage,  '  Small  profits  do  great  things.' 
I  remain  in  business  because  I  have  fifty  poor 
relations,  some  very  young,  some  old  and  infirm. 
I  can  manage  better  for  them  than  they  can  for 
themselves.  I  maintain  my  good  old  mother,  who 
is  still  alive  at  Wellington.  I  support  two  aged 
men  and  one  woman.  I  also  maintain  and  educate 
four  children.  I  now  sell  fully  100,000  volumes 
annually.  I  pubhsh  two  catalogues  yearly,  and  of 
each  3,000  copies." 

His  final  residence  was  Budleigh  Salterton, 
Devon,  where  he  built  a  third  chapel,  which  cost 


808 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Alderegate  Street. 


;^2,ooo,  appointing  one  Hawkey,  a  retired  army 
minister,  his  chaplain,  with  a  stipend  of  ;^iso  per 
annum.  Lackington's  health  declining — he  suffered 
from  epileptic  fits,  and  ultimately  from  apoplexy 
and  paralysis^he  died  November  22,  1815,  aged 
seventy,  and  his  remains  were  interred  in  Budleigh 
Churchyard. 

The  London  Institution,  Finsbury  Circus,  was 
established  in  1805,  and  incorporated  1807.  The 
cost  of  the  building  was  _;^3i,i24,  and  its  annual 
income  is  about  ;^3,ooo  per  annum,  derived  from 
funded  property,  and  six  annual  payments.  The 
number  of  volumes  is  about  70,000,  which  are 
available  for  the  holders  of  a  proprietor's  share  or  a 
nominee  of  a  proprietor,  having  his  medal  or  ticket. 
In  the  winter  time,  when  the  lectures  are  delivered 
by  leading  men  of  science,  the  theatre  is  as  full  as 
can  well  be  imagined,  and  is  by  no  means  a  quiet 
resting-place ;  but  the  reading-room  is  a  treat,  and 
it  is  pleasant  to  get  away  from  the  City  bustle,  and 
take  shelter  there.  Another  recommendation  of 
the  place  is  that  under  the  library  there  is  a  well- 
supplied  newspaper  room.     (Timbs.)        ,    '    •■.■■■. 

"The  Pavement — so  called,  no  doubt,"  says 
Aleph,  "  as  the  only  firm  pathway  in  the  neighbour- 
hood— was  formerly  edged  with  some  fifty  or  sixty 
brick  houses,  with  very  unpretentious  shops  attached 
— bakers,  butchers,  ale  and  spirit  stores,  and  the 
like,  with  a  chapel  in  the  centre  ;  the  whole  giving 
no  promise  of  the  gay  and  tempting  shop-windows, 
blazing  with  gas,  so  soon  to  be  substituted.  Yet 
most  of  the  buildings  are  unaltered,  even  now ;  only 
the  facia  has  been  '  improved  and  beautified.' 

"  How,  you  will  ask,  was  the  centre  of  old  Moor- 
fields  employed,  in  its  chrysalis  state  ?  ■_  Variously. 


In  the  days  of  Wesley  and  Whitefield  it  was  the 
favourite  haunt  of  open-air  preachers.  Both  those 
remarkable  men  chose  the  spot  for  their  London 
lectures  3  and  they  often  gathered  audiences  of  a 
fabulous  number — the  prints  of  the  period  say,  of 
20,000, 30,000,  and  even  50,000.  They  had  begun 
to  preach  in  the  churches,  but  it  was  alleged  the  vast 
crowds  made  that  practice  dangerods,  and  they 
extemporised  pulpits  under  the  blue  vault  of  heaven. 
The  Tabernacle,  not  far  distant,  was  the  result  of 
this  movement. . 

"  In  181 2,  and  long  after,  carpet-beating  was  the 
chief  use  of  the  dry  or  sloppy  area  (according  to 
the  season). .  Poles  with  ropes  stretched  across  were 
placed  at  intervals,  and  sturdy  arms  brandishing 
stout  sticks  were  incessantly  assaulting  Turkey,  Kid- 
derminster, and  Brussels  floor-covers,  and  beating 
out  such  clouds  of  dust  that  as  you  passed  it  was 
expedient  to  hold  your  cambric  or  bandanna  over 
your  mouth  and  nostrils.  Then  you  had,  in  fair- 
time,  those  humble  incentives  to  gambling  which 
for  a  penny  offer  the  chance  of  winning  a  tin  box  or 
a  wooden  apple.  Five  uprights  are  stuck  in  deep 
holes ;  you  stand  a  few  yards  off,  supplied  with 
short  sticks,  and  if  you  can  knock  away  box  or 
apple  without  its  lapsing  into  the  hole,  it  becomes 
your  property,  and  the  gain  may  be'  about  two- 
pence. Those  days  are  gone;  the  open  space  is 
filled  in  with  a  strange  conglomeration  of  buildings, 
pubhc  and  private  —  the  London  Institution,  a 
Catholic  cathedral,  a  Scotch  church,  a  seceding 
ditto,  the  Ophthalmic  Hospital,  Finsbury  Circus-, 
and  dwellings  of  all  sizes,  accommodating  a  mixed 
population,  varying  in  position  from  extreme  poverty 
to  wealth." 


CHAPTER    XXVI L 

ALDERSGATE  STREET  AND   ST.    MARTIN' S-LE-GRAND. 

Origin  of  the  Name— History  of  tlie  Old  Gate— Its  Demolition— The  General  Post  Office— Origin  of  the  Penny  Post— Manley— Bishop— The  Duke 
of  York's  Monopoly— Murray's  Post— Dockwia— Absorption  of  the  Penny  Post  by  the  Government— Allen's  "Cross  Posts"— Postal 
Reformers— John  Palmer,  of  Bath— Procession  of  the  Mail  Coaches  on  the  King's  Birthday — The  Money  Order  Office— Rowland  Hill's 
Penny  Post— The  Post  Office  Removed  to  St.  Martin's-le-Grand— Statistics  and  Curiosities  of  the  Post  OfSce— Stamping— Curious  Addresses 
—Report  on  the  Post  Office  Savings-Bank— Posting  the  Newspapers— The  Site  of  the  Present  Post  Office— St.  Martin's  College— Discovery 
of  Antiquities— The  New  Buildings— The  Telegraph  Department— Old  Houses  in  Aldeisgate  Street— The  "  Bull  and  Mouth  "—Milton's 
House— Shaftesbury  House— Petre  House— St.  Eotolph's  Church— The  So-called  Shakespeare's  House— The  Barbican  and  Prince  Rupett— 
The  Fortune  Theatre— The  "  Nursery  "—Little  Britain— The  "Albion." 

Aldersgate  was  one  of  the  four  original  gates  of 
London,  and  formed  the  extreme  corner  to  the 
north.  Some  say  it  was  named  afler  Aldrich,  a 
Saxon,  who  built  it ;  others,  says  Stow,  attribute  it 
to  the  alder  trees  which  grew  around  it.  There 
is  no  mention  of  it  previous  ■  to  the  Conquest. 
^Becoming  dilapidated  and  dangerous,  it  was  pulled 


down  by  order  of  the  Lord  Mayor  and  aldermen ; 
but  rebuilt  in  16 18,  the  expense  (more  than  ;^i,ooo) 
being  defrayed  out  of  a  legacy,  left  for  the  purpose 
by  one  Wilham  Parker,  a  merchant  tailor.  It  was 
damaged  in  the  Great  Fire,  but  soon  after  repaired 
and  beautified.  Originally,  like  Temple  Bar,  it  had 
an  arch  in  the  centre  for  general  traffic,  anditwo 


St.  Martin's-le-Grand.1 


THE  PENNY  POS'T. 


209 


posterns  for  pedestrians.  Over  the  arch  was  a 
figure  in  high  relief  of  James  I.,  but  the  building 
itself  was  heavy  and  inelegant.  The  imperial  arms 
surmounted  the  figure,  for  through  this  gate  the 
Stuart  first  entered  London  when  he  came  to  take 
possession  of  the  Crown.  On  the  eastern  side  was 
an  effigy  of  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  and  these  lines 
from  his  prophecies  : — "  Then  shall  enter  into  the 
gates  of  this  city  kings  and  princes,  sitting  upon 
the  throne  of  David,  riding  in  chariots  and  on 
horses,  they  and  their  princes,  the  men  of  Judah, 
and  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem;  and  this  city 
shall  remain  for  ever."  In  the  western  niche 
was  an  effigy  of  Samuel,  with  this  inscription : — 
"  And  Samuel  said  unto  all  Israel,  Behold,  I  have 
hearkened  unto  your  voice  in  all  that  you  said  unto 
me,  and  have  made  a  king  over  you."  On  the 
south  was  a  bas-relief  of  James  in  his  royal  robes. 

The  City  Crier  had  rooms-  over  the  gate,  but  in 
Elizabeth's  reign  they  were  occupied  by  John  Day, 
who  printed  the  folio  Bible  dedicated  to  Edward 
VI.  in  1549.  He  also  printed  the  works  of  Roger 
Ascham,  Latimer's  Serinpns,  and  Foxe's  "Actes 
and  Monuments."  There  is  a  work  of  his  now 
much  sought  after  by  book-collectors  on  account 
of  the  frontispiece,  which  represents  Day  with  a 
whip  entering  the  room  of  his  workmen,  who  are 
sleeping,  the  sun  shining  upon  them.  He  rouses 
them  with  these  words:  "Arise,  for  it  is  day." 
This  gate  was  sold  in  1761,  and  taken  down  im- 
mediately afterwards.  The  "  Castle  and  Falcon  " 
inn  was  built  near  its  site. 

The  General  Post  OfiSce  forms  a  noble  preface 
to  an  important  street.  From  two  years  before 
the  death  of  Charles  II.  there  has  been  a  Penny 
Post  (one  of  the  greatest  blessings  of  civiUsation) 
estabhshed  in  London.  In  Cromwell's  time, 
the  revenues  of  the  Post  Office  were  farmed  to  a 
Mr.  John  Manley  for  _;^io,ooo  a  year,  and  it  was 
calculated  that  latterly  Manley  made  ;^i  4,000 
annually  by  his  bargain.  Bishop,  his  successor, 
had  to  pay  ;^2 1,500  a  year  for  the  office  (the 
monopoly  of  letting  post  horses  being  included). 
In  1675,  the  fifteenth  year  of  this  disgraceful  reign, 
the  entire  revenue  of  the  Post  Office  was  granted 
to  the  Duke  of  York.  About  this  time  Robert 
Murray,  an  upholsterer,  suggested  the  idea  of  a 
post  from  one  part  of  London  to  another,  the  City 
having  grown  too  large  for  messengers.  Murray's 
Post  was  afterwards  assigned  to  Mr.  William 
Dpckwra  (or  Docwra).  By  the  early  regulations, 
all  letters  not  exceeding  a  pound  in  weight  were 
to  be  charged  one  penny  for  the  City  and  suburbs, 
and  twopence  for  any  distance  within  a  ten  mile 
radius..  ,^  Sia^-Iarg%|@ffigqgBJMiMW|i.  ^^  different 


parts  of  London,  and  receiving-houses  were  esta- 
blished in  all  the  principal  streets.  The  deliveries 
in  the  chief  streets  near  the  Exchange  were  as 
many  as  six  or  eight  times  a  day,  and  in  the 
outskirts  there  were  four  daily  deliveries. 

The  moment  the  Penny  Post  became  a  success, 
the  courtiers  were  all  nibbling,  and  the  Duke  of 
York  complained  that  his  monopoly  was  infringed. 
Titus  Oates  cried  out  that  the  Penny  Post  was  a 
Jesuit  scheme,  and  useful  for  transmitting  Popish 
treason.  The  City  porters,  too,  says  Mr.  Lewin,  in 
his  excellent  book,  "  Her  Majesty's  Mails,"  pulled 
down  the  placards,  "  Penny  Post  Letters  taken  in 
here,"  from  the  doors  of  the  receiving  -  houses. 
The  Court  of  King's  Bench,  on  a  trial,  decided,  of 
course  unjustly,  that  the  new  office  must  be  ab- 
sorbed by  the  Government.  From  this  time,  the 
London  District  Post  existed  as  a  separate  esta- 
blishment from  the  General  Post,  and  so  continued 
till  1854.  Shortly  after  this  verdict  Mr.  Dockwra 
was  appointed,  under  the  Duke  of  York,  controller 
of  the  District  Post.  On  the  accession  of  the  Duke 
of  York  the  revenues  of  the  Post  Office  reverted 
to  the  Crown.  Ten  years  after  the  removal  of  un- 
fortunate Dockwra,  from  the  "  Penny  Post,"  a  Mr. 
Povey  attempted,  in  vain,  to  rival  the  Government 
by  establishing  a  "Halfpenny  Post."  In  1720 
Pope's  friend,  Ralph  Allen — 

"  Let  humble  Allen,  with  an  awkward  shame, 
Do  good  by  stealth,  and  blush  to  find  it  fame," 

established  an  improved  system  of  "  cross  posts," 
at  a  rental  of  ;^6,ooo  a  year.  By  this  contract 
Allen  is  supposed  to  have  made  nearly  half  a 
million  sterling.  On  the  death  of  this  worthy  and 
successful  speculator,  the  cross  posts  passed  under 
the  control  of  the  Postmasters-General.  In  1799, 
when  this  department  was  amalgamated,  the  pro- 
ceeds, says  Mr.  Lewin,  had  reached  the  enormous 
yearly  sum  of  ^200,000. 

The  careless  post-boy  on  a  slow  horse  was  still 
the  agent  employed  to  carry  letters,  often  requirinjg 
to  be  conveyed  with  the  utmost  care  and  speed. 
Fifteen,  years  after  the  death  of  Allen,  a  greater 
reformer  arose  in  the  person  of  Mr.  John  Palmer, 
a  brewer  and  theatrical  manager  at  Bath.  In  1784, 
after  some  successful  experiments  with  coaches  and 
swifter  horses,  he  was  at  once  appointed  controller- 
general  of  the  Post  Office,  at  ^1,500  a  year,  with 
two  and  a  lialf  per  cent,  commission  upon  any 
excess  of  net  revenue  over  ;!^240,ooo,  the  Post 
Office's  annual  revenue  for  the  year  of  his  appoint- 
ment. The  conservative  opposition  to  Palmer's 
improvements  was  incessant  and  untiring,  and  in 
1792  he  was  compelled  to  sun-ender  his  appoint- 


216 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Martins' -le-Giiind. 


ment  for  a  pension  of  _;^3,ooo  a  year.  After  a 
twenty  years'  struggle  against  this  unfair  removal, 
Mr.  Palmer's  son,  in  1813,  obtained  a  Parliamentary 
grant  of  ;^5o,ooo.  The  first  year  of  the  intro- 
duction of  Mr.  Palmer's  plans  the  net  revenue  of 
the  Post  Office  was  about  ^^250,000  ;  thirty  years 
afterwards,  the  proceeds  had  increased  six-fold — 
to  no  less  a  sum,  indeed,  than  a  million  and  a  half 
sterling. 

In  1836  there  were  fifty  four-horse  mails,  and 
forty-nine  two-horse  mails  in  England,  says  Mr. 
Lewin,    thirty   in   Irdand,   and   ten   in   Scotland. 


and  postboys  on  horseback,  arrayed  in  their  new 
scarlet  coats  and  jackets,  proceed  from  Lombard 
Street  to  Millbank,  and  there  dine.  At  this  place 
the  coaches  are  fresh  painted,  then  the  procession, 
being  arranged,  begins  to  move,  about  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  headed  by  the  General  Post  men 
on  horseback.  The  mails  follow  them,  filled  with 
the  wives  and  children,  friends  and  relations,  of 
coachmen  and  guards,  while  the  post-boys,  sound- 
ing their  bugles  and  cracking  their  whips,  bring  up 
the  rear.  From  the  commencement  of  the  pro- 
cession the  bells  of  the  different  churches  ring  out 


AIDERSGATE.     {From  a  print  of  1670. ) 


The  last  year  of  mail  coaches,  twenty-seven  mails 
left  London  every  night  punctually  at  eight  p.m., 
travelling  in  the  aggregate  about  5,500  miles  before 
they -reached  their  several  destinations. 

The  original  Post  Office,  of  which  a'  view  is 
given  on  page  205,  stood  in  Lombard  Street,* 
and  one  of  the  most  interesting  sights,  of  the 
Post  Office  in  old  time  was  the  gay  procession  of 
mail  coaches  thither  on  the  King's  birthday. 
Hone,  in  1838,  tells  us  that  George  IV.  changed 
the  annual  celebration  of  his  birthday  to  St. 
George's  Day,  April  23rd.  "  According  to  annual 
custom,"  says  he,  "  the  mail  coaches  went  in  pro- 
cession from  Millbank  to  Lombard  Street.  At 
about  twelve  o'clock  the  horses  belonging  to  the 
different  mails,  with  new  harness,  and  the  postmen 

*  See  Vol,  I.,  p.  525. 


merrily,  and  continue  their  rejoicing  peals  till  it 
arrives  at  the  General  Post  Office,  in  Lombard 
Street,  from  whence  they  sparkle  abroad  to  all 
parts  of  the  kingdom.  Great  crowds  assemble  to 
witness  the  cavalcade  as  it  passes  through  the  prin- 
cipal streets  of  the  metropolis.  .  .  .  The  clean 
and  cheerful  appearance  of  the  coachmen  and 
guards,  each  with  a  large  bouquet  of  flowers  in  his 
bright  scarlet  coat,  the  beauty  of  the  cattle  and 
the  general  excellence  of  the  equipment,  present  a 
most  agreeable  spectacle  to  every  eye  and.  mind, 
that  can  be  gratified  by  seeing  and  reflecting  on 
the  advantages  derived  to  trade  and  social  inter- 
course by  this  magnificent  establishment."  "  Such 
a  splendid  display  of  carnages  and  four  as  these 
mail  coaches,"  says  Von  Raumer,  in  1835,  "  could 
not  be  found  or  got  together  in  all  Berlin.     It  was 


St.  ll.irtin's-le-Grand.] 


THE  POST  OFFICE. 


2IT 


S-LE-GRAND  IN   1 760. 


Sl2 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tSt.  Martin's-le-Grand. 


■a  real  pleasure  to  see  them  in  all  the  pride  and 
strength  which,  in  an  hour  or  two  later,  was  to  send 
them  in  every  direction,  with  incredible  rapidity,  to 
every  corner  of  England." 

The  Money  Order  Office  dates  from  1792.  No 
order  originally  could  be  issued  for  more  than  five 
guineas,  and  the  charge  for  that  sum  amounted  to 
four  shillings  and  sixpence,  or  nearly  five  per  cent. 
It  was  originally  a  private  speculation  of  three  Post 
Office  officials,  and  so  remained  till  1838,  when  it' 
became  a  branch  of  the  general  institution.  It 
began  with  two  small  rooms  at  the  north  end  of 
St.  Martin's-le-Grand,  and  a  staff  of  three  clerks. 
During  the  year  1863  the  number  of  orders 
amounted  in  round  numbers  to  7,500,000,  repre- 
senting a  money  value  exceeding  ;^i6, 000,000, 
the  commission  on  the  whole  amounting  to  more 
than  ;^i  44,000. 

That  great  reform  of  Rowland  Hill's,  the  Penny 
Postage,  was  first  mooted  in  1837,  and  in  1839  the 
uniform  rate  of  fourpence  a  letter  was  tried.  The 
penny  rate  for  half  an  ounce  commenced  in  1840. 
Telegraph  messages  were  first  used  to  expedite 
Post  Office  business  in  1847.  In  1855,  the  Duke 
of  Argyll  being  Postmaster-General,  the  General 
Post  and  the  London  District  Letter-carriers  were 
amalgamated,  and  the  red  uniform  of  the  General 
Post  abandoned. 

In  1765  four  houses  in  Abchurch  Lane  were 
taken  for  the  Post  service,  ajjd  additional  offices 
erected  J  and  from  time  to  time  other  additions 
were  made,  until  the  whole  became  a  cumbrous 
and  inconvenient  mass  of  buildings,  ill  adapted 
to  the  great  increase  which  had  taken  place  in 
the  business  of  the  Post  Office.  It  was  at  length 
determined  to  erect  a  building  expressly  for  afford- 
ing the  conveniences  and  facilities  required;  and 
in  1815  an  Act  was  passed  authorising  certain 
commissioners  to  select  a  site.  The  situation 
chosen  was  at  the  junction  of  St.  Martin's-le-Grand 
with  Newgate  Street,  where  once  stood  a  monastery 
which  had  possessed  the  privileges  of  sanctuary. 
The  first  stone  of  the  new  building  was  laid  in 
May,  1824.  On  the  23rd  September,  1829,  it  was 
completed  and  opened  for  the  transaction  of  busi- 
ness. It  is  about  400  feet  long,  130  wide,  and 
64  feet  high.  The  front  is  composed  of  three 
porticoes  of  the  Ionic  order — one  of  four  columns 
being  placed  at  each  end,  and  one  of  eight  columns 
forming  the  centre — and  surmounted  by  a  pedi- 
ment. In  the  interior  is  a  hall  80  feet  long,  by 
about  60  wide,  divided  into  a  centre  and  two  aisles 
by  two  ranges  of  six  Ionic  columns,  standing  ^lpon 
pedestals  of  granite.  There  is  a  tunnel  underneath 
the  hall  by  which  the  letters  are  conveyed,  by 


ingenious  mechanical  means,  between  the  northern 
and  southern  divisions  of  the  building. 

In  1839,  under  the  old  system,  the  number 
of  letters  which  passed  through  the  post  was 
76,000,000.  In  1840  came  the  uniform  penny, 
and  for  that  year  the  iiumber  was  162,000,000,  or 
an  increase  of  93,000,000,  equal  to  123  per  cent. 
That  was  the  grand  start ;  afterwards  the  rate  of 
increase  subsided  from  36  per  cent,  in  1841  to  16 
per  cent,  in  1842  and  1843.  In  1845,  and  the 
three  following  years,  the  increase  was  respectively 
39,  37,  and  30  per  cent.  Then  succeeded  a  sudden 
drop ;  perhaps  the  culminating  point  in  the  rate 
of  increase  had  been  attained.  The  Post  Office 
is,  however,  a  thermometer  of  commerce.  During 
the  depressing  year  1848  the  number  of  let1;prs  in- 
creased no  more  than  9  per  cent.  But  in  1849 
337,500,000  epistles  passed  through  the  office, 
being  an  augmentation  of  8,500,000  upon  the  pre- 
ceding year,  or  1 1  per  cent,  of  progressive  increase. 

In  1850  it  was  estimated  that  upon  an  average 
300  letters  per  day  passed  through  the  General 
Post  Office  totally  unfastened,  chiefly  in  conse- 
quence of  the  use  of  what  stationers  are  pleased 
to  call  "adhesive"  envelopes.  Many  were  virgin 
ones,  without  either  seal  or  direction;  and  not 
a  few  contained  money.  In  Sir  Francis  Free- 
ling's  time  the  sum  of  .;^5,ooo  in  bank-notes  was 
found  in  a  "blank."  It  was  not  till  after  some 
trouble  that  the  sender  was  traced,  and  the  cash 
restored  to  him.  Not  long  since,  an  humble  post- 
mistress of  an  obscure  Welsh  post  town,  unable  to 
decipher  the  address  on  a  letter,  perceived,  on 
examining  it,  the  folds  of  several  bank-notes  pro- 
truding from  a  torn  edge  of  the  envelope.  She 
securely  re-enclosed  it  to  the  secretary  of  the  Post 
Office  in  St.  Martin's-le-Grand,  who  found  the 
contents  to  be  ;^i,5oo,  and  the  superscription  too 
much  even  for  the  hieroglyphic  powers  of  the 
"blind  clerk."  Eventually  the  enclosures  found 
their  true  destination. 

The  dead  letters  of  one  year  alone  contained, 
stowed  among  other  articles,  tooth-picks,  tooth- 
files,  fishing-flies,'  an  eye-glass,  bradawls,  portraits, 
miniatures,  a  whistle,  corkscrews,  a  silver  watch,  a 
pair  of  spurs,  a  bridle,  a  soldier's  discharge  and 
sailor's  register  tickets,  samples  of  hops  and  corn, 
a  Greek  MS.,  silver  spoons,  gold  thread,  dmner, 
theatre,  and  pa^vn  tickets,  boxes  of  pills,  shirts, 
nightcaps,  razors,  all  sorts  of  knitting  and  lace, 
"  dolls'  things,"  and  a  vast  variety  of  other  articles, 
that  would  puzzle  ingenuity  to  conjecture.    '    .  . 

The  letters  formerly  were  ranged,  for  stamping 
the  date  and  hour  of  despatch,  in  a  long  row,  like 
a  pack  of  cards  thrown  across  a  table,  and  so 


St.  Martin's-Ie-Grand.] 


THE  SAVINGS-BANK. 


213 


fast  did  the  stamper's  han(}  niave,  that  he  could 
mark  6,000  m  an  hour.  While  defacing  the 
Queen's  heads,  he  counted  as  he  thumped,  till  he 
enumerated  fifty,  when  he  dodged  his  stamp  on 
one  side  to  put  his  black  mark  on  a  piece  of  plain 
paper.  All  these  memoranda  were  afterwards 
collected  by  the  president,  who,  reckoning  fifty 
letters  to  every  black  mark,  got  a  near  approxi- 
mation to  the  number  that  had  passed  through 
the  office.  This  work  is  now  performed  by  ma- 
chinery. The  total  number  of  letters  which  passed 
through  the  Post  Office  on  Valentine's  Day,  1850, 
was  187,037.  To  thi»  total  are  to  be  added  6,000 
"  bye  "  letters — or  those  which  passed  from  village 
to  village  within  the  suburban  limits  of  the  District 
Post  without  reaching  the  chief  office — and  100,000, 
destined  for  the  provinces  and  places  beyond 
sea,  which  were  transferred  to  the  Inland  Depart- 
ment. The  grand  total  for  the  day,  therefore,  rose 
to  nearly  300,000.  Thus  the  sacrifices  to  the  fane 
of  St.  Valentine,  consisting  of  hearts,  darts,  Cupids 
peeping  out  of  paper  roses,  Hymen  emboweifed  in 
hot-pressed  embossing,  swains  in  very  blue  coatSj 
and  nymphs  in  very  opaque  muslin,  coarse  carica- 
tures and  tender  verses,  caused  an  augmentation 
to  the  revenue  on  this  anniversary  equal  to  about 
70,000  missives;  123,000  being  the  usual  daily 
average  for  district  and  "  byes  "  during  the  month 
of  February.  This  increase,  being  peculiar  to 
cross  and  district  posts,  does  not  so  much  affect 
the  Inland  Office,  for  lovers  and  sweethearts  are 
generally  neighbours.  The  entire  correspondence 
of  the  three  kingdoms  it  was  calculated  in  1850 
was  augmented  on  each  St.  Valentine's  Day  to  the 
extent  of  about  400,000  letters. 

The  extraordinary  addresses  of  many  of  the  dead 
letters  are  worth  noting.  Among  them  we  find  the 
following : — 

To  George  Miller,  boy  on  board  H.M.S.  Amphitrite, 
Voillop  a  Razzor  or  ellesaware  (the  Amphilrite,  Valparaiso, 
or  elsewhere). 

H.M.  Steem  Freigkt   Vultur,  Uncon  or  els  war  (Steam 
Frigate  VttlUtre,  at  Hong-Kong). 
Mr.  Weston, 

Osburn  Cottage, 

Uwait  (Isle  of  Wight). 

Mr.  Laurence,  New  Land,  I  Vicum  (High  Wycombe). 

W.  Stratton,  commonly  ceald  teapot  (we  presume,  as  a 
total  abstinence  man),  Weehn  (Welwyn). 

Thorn  Hoodless,  3,  St.  Ann  Ct.,  Searhoo  Skur  (Soho 
Square). 

Mr.  Dick  Bishop  Caus,  ner  the  Wises  (near  Devizes). 

Peter  Robinson,  2  Compney  7  Batilian  Rolyl  Artirlan, 
Owylige  (Woolwich),  England. 

To  Mr.  Michl  Darcy,  in  the  town  of  England. 

To  my  Uncle  John,  in  London. 

Miss  Queen  Victoria,  of  England. 


From  the  report  of  the  Postmaster-General  for 
the  year  1872,  we  gather  the  following  interesting 
facts : — 

The  Post  Office  Savings-Banks  continue  to  shov/ 
a  steady  and  rapid  advance  in  their  business ;  v/ith 
a  remarkable  increase  in  the  number  of  friendly, 
provident,  and  other  societies  and  institutions 
placing  money  in  them.  The  number  of  depositors 
last  year  increased  in  round  numbers  from  upwards 
of  1,300,000  to  upwards  of  1,440,000  ;  and  the 
whole  amount  of  deposits  (including  interest)  from 
;^i  7,000,000  to  upwards  of  ^^20,000,000,  giving 
an  average  of  more  than  ;^i3  for  each  depositor. 

Last  year  the  Post  Office,  on  behalf  of  the  Board 
of  Inland  Revenue,  issued  more  than  1,000,000 
licenses  of  various  kinds,  producing  a  revenue  of 
nearly  ;^soo,ooo,  being  an  increase  of  about  three 
per  cent,  on  the  previous  year.  Of  these  licenses 
more  than  ;^s  70,000  were  for  keeping  dogs. 

Last  year  the  number  of  officers  was  increased  by 
about  2,000,  making  a  total  of  rather  more  than 
40,000,  of  whom  about  9,600,  or  nearly  one-quarter, 
are  employed  exclusively  on  telegraph  work.  Up- 
wards of  12,000  of  the  officers  are  postmasters, 
about  8,600  clerks,  &c.,  and  upwards  of  19,000 
letter-carriers,  sorters,  messengers,  &c.  Of  the 
foregoing  staff  nearly  9,000  belong  to  the  London 
district,  and  of  these  more  than  3,000  are  attached 
to  the  chief  offices,  St.  Martin's-le-Grand,  and  over 
1,500  to  the  Central  Telegraph  Office. 

The  gross  revenue  from  postage  and  money 
orders  last  year  was,  in  round  numbers,  ^^5,209,000 
—namely,  5,013,000  from  postage,  and  ;^i  96^000 
from  money  orders. 

The  expenditure  last  year  was  ;^3,685,ooo,  as 
compared  with  ^^3,61 1,000  in  187 1,  showing  an 
increase. of  ^74,000. 

The  net  revenue  last  year  was  ;^i, 5  24,000 — 
namely,  ^1,505,000  from  postage,  and  ;^i9,ooo 
from  money  orders ;  being  an  increase  on  the  net 
revenue  from  postage,  in  1871,  of  ;^26o,5oo,  and 
a  decrease  on  that  from  money  orders  of  ;£'9,Soo  ; 
or  a  balance  of  increase  amounting  to  ;^25 1,000. 

The  number  of  letters  which,  owing  to  wrong 
addresses  and  other  causes,  found  their  way  back 
to  the  Returned  Letter  Office,  did  not  greatly  differ 
from  the  number  in  1871,  and  was  about  3,600,000. 
About  88,000  of  the  undelivered  letters  con- 
tamed  property  of  different  kinds.  Besides  the  pro- 
perty thus  posted,  there  were  2,700  valuable  books, 
which,  owing  to  careless  packing  or  weak  envelopes, 
escaped  from  their  covers,  but  were  recorded,  so 
as  to  allow  of  their  being  traced  if  inquired  for ; 
and  more  than  51,000  postage  stamps  were  found 
loose  in  the  different  post-offices.     The  total  num- 


214 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Martin's  le-Grand. 


ber  of  letters  posted  last  year  without  any  address 
was  15,000. 

The.  number  of  ordinary  telegraphic  messages 
last  year  reached  a  total  of  nearly  15,000,000, 
showing  an  increase  of  nearly  3,000,000,  or  about 
25  percent  During  a  single  night,  when  important 
Ministerial  statements  were  made  in  Pariiament, 
upwards  of  200,000  words,  or  about  100  columns 
of  the  Times  newspaper,  were  transmitted  from  the 
central  station  in  London  for  publication  in  the 
provincial  press.  The  total  length  of  the  Postal 
Telegraph  wires  at  the  end  of  the  year  was  more 
than  105,000  miles,  of  which  about  S,ooo  miles 
were  rented  by  private  persons.  In  1871  the  total 
mileage  was  rather  less  than  88,000. 

During  the  last  year  nearly  270  additional  Money 
Order  Offices  (serving  also  as  Savings-Banks)  were 
opened,  making  the  whole  number  upwards  of 
4,600.  The  number  of  inland  money  orders  in- 
creased from  rather  more  than  12,000,000  in  187 1 
to  nearly  14,000,000  (amounting  to  ;^24,ooo,ooo) 
in  1872,  or  by  nearly  16  per  cent.  The  number  of 
colonial  and  foreign  money  orders  last  year,  count- 
ing the  issues  both  in  this  country  and  abroad,  was 
about  260,000,  being  an  increase  of  about  70,000, 
or  nearly  37  per  cent.,  on  the  number  in  1871. 
These  orders  amounted  to  more  than  1,000,000 
(as  compared  with  about  770,000  in  187 1),  and 
yielded  a  profit  of  nearly  ^^9,000,  being  an  increase 
during  the  year  of  nearly  .;^3,5op. 

The  following  is  an  estimate  of  the  weight  of  cor- 
respondence carried,  and  the  value  of  the  postal 
services  performed  for  the  following  public  offices 
in  the  year  1872  : — 

Weight.  Amount. 

Great  Britain 24,131,090  oz.     ...     ;^I74,975 

Ireland 2,79i.75o  „       -      ;£'i2,i34 

The  following  table  shows  the  gross  revenue, 
cost  of  management,  and  net  revenue  of  the  Post 
Office  since  the  year  1837  :— 


Year. 

Gross 
Revenue. 

Cost  of 
Management. 

Net  Revenue. 

Postage 

Charged  on 

Government 

Departments. 

1838 
1839 

1871 
1872 

2,346,278 
2,390,763 

4,900,454 
5,208,922 

686,768 
756.999 

2.559.797 
2,754.764 

1,659,510 
1,633,764 

2,340,657 
2,454.158 

45,156 

44,277 

Postage  ceased  to  be  charged  on  the  corre- 
spondence of  Government  departments  early  in 
the  year  1868.  The  amount  of  Government 
postage  (excluding  the  Post  Office  itself)  for  the 
last  complete  year  in  which  it  was  charged  (1867), 
was  about  ^197,000, 


In  an  admirable  article  in  the  first  volume  of 
Household  Words,  March  30,  1850,  the  late  Mr. 
Charles  Dickens  and  Mr.  W.  H.  Wills  described, 
in  a  very  animated  way,  the  manner  of  then  closing 
the  evening  letter-boxes  at  St.  Martin's-le-Grand. 
"  It  was  a  quarter  before  six  o'clock,"  they  say, 
"when  they  crossed  the  hall,  six  being  the  latest' 
hour  at  which  newspapers  can  be  posted  without 
fee.  "  It  was  then  just  drizzling  newspapers.  The 
great  window  of  that  department  being  thrown 
open,  the  first  black  fringe  of  a  thunder-cloud  of 
newspapers,  impending  over  the  Post  Office,  was 
discharging  itself  fitfully — now  in  large  drops,  now 
in  little;  now  in  sudden  plumps,  now  stopping 
altogether.  By  degrees  it  began  to  rain  hard; 
by  fast  degrees  the  storm  came  on  harder  and 
harder,  until  it  blew,  rained,  hailed,. snowed,  news- 
papers. A  fountain  of  newspapers  played  in  at  the 
window.  Waterspouts  of  newspapers  broke  from 
enormous  sacks,  and  engulfed  the  men  inside.  A 
prodigious  main  of  newspapers,  at  the  Newspaper 
River  Head,  seemed  to  be  turned  on,  threatening 
destruction  to  the  miserable  Post  Office.  The  Post 
Office  was  so  full  already,  that  the  window  foamed 
at  the  mouth  with  newspapers.  Newspapws  flew 
out  Uke  froth,  and  were  tumbled  in  again  by  the 
bystanders.  All  the  boys  in  London  seemed  to 
have  gone  mad,  and  to  be  besieging  the  Post  Office 
with  newspapers.  Now  and  then  there  was  a  girl; 
now  and  then  a  woman ;  now  and  then  a  weak  old 
man ;  but  as  the  minute  hand  of  the  clock  crept 
near  to  six,  such  a  torrent  of  boys  and  such  a 
torrent  of  newspapers  came  tumbling  in  together 
pell-mell,  head  over  heels,  one  above  another,  that 
the  giddy  head  looking  on  chiefly  wondered  why 
the  boys  springing  over  one  another's  heads,  and 
flying  the  garter  into  the  Post  Office,  with  the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  corps  of  acrobats  at  M.  Franconi's, 
didn't  post  themselves  nightly  along  with  the 
newspapers,  and  get  delivered  all  over  the  world. 
Suddenly  it  struck  six.     Shut,  sesame  ! " 

On  the  site  of  the  General  Post  Office,  in  the 
early  days,  stood  a  collegiate  church  and  sanctuary, 
founded  by  Withu,  King  of  Kent,  in  750,  and  only 
enlarged  in  1056  by  Ingebrian,  Earl  of  Essex,  and 
Girard,  his  brother,  and  confirmed  by  a  charter  of 
William  the  Conqueror,  in  1068.  The  proud 
Norman  also  gave  to  the  college  all  the  moor  land 
without  Cripplegate,  and  granted  them  "soc  and 
sac,  dot  and  sheam,"  in  a  chapter  confirmed  by 
two  cardinals  of  Pope  Alexander.  Many  of  the 
deans  of  this  college  were  great  people,  observes 
Strype,  one  being  Keeper  of  the  Treasure  and 
Jewels  of  Edward  III.,  and  another  Clerk  of  the 
Privy  Seal.     The  college  was  a  parish  of  itself,  and 


St.  Martin's-le-Grand.] 


SANCTUARY  PRIVILEGES  IN  ST.   MARTIN'S. 


2T5 


claimed  great  privileges  of  sanctuary,  prisoners 
from  Newgate  to  Tower  Hill  sometimes  trying  to 
slip  from  their  guards  and  get  through  the  south 
gate  of  St.  Martin's.  Thus,  in  1442  (Henry  YI.), 
a  soldier,  on  his  way  from  Newgate  to  the  Guild- 
hall, was  dragged  by  five  of  his  fellows,  who  rushed 
out  of  Pannier  Alley,  in  at  the  west  door  of  the 
sanctuary ;  but  that  same  day  the  two  sheriffs  came 
and  took  out  the  five  men  from  the  sanctuary,  and 
led  them  fettered  to  the  Compter,  and  theik  chained- 
by  the  necks  to  Newgate.  The  Dean  and  Chapter 
of  St.  Martin's,  furious  at  this,  complained  to  the 
king,  who,  aftei  hearing  the  City,  who  denied  the 
right  of  sanctuary  to  the  college,  returned  the  five 
soldiers  to  their  former  retreat.  In  the  reign  of 
Henry  VII.  the  right  of  sanctuary  was  again  vio- 
lated, and  again  disputed  at  law,  and  this  time  the 
sheriffs  were  "grievously  fined"  for  their  pains. 

In  the  reign  of  Edward  II.  there  was  before 
St.  Martin's  College  a  "  solar,"  that  is,  a  large  airy 
room,  or  chamber,  somewhat  like  the  galleries  in 
great  houses,  being  places  of  entertainment  and 
pleasure.  This  "  solar"  was  toward  the  street,  and 
a  jetty  outwardj  which  was  so  low  that  it  annoyed 
the  people  passing  along. 

When  the  college  of  St.  Martin's -le- Grand 
flourished,  the  curfew  was  rung  here,"  as  at  Bow, 
St.  Giles's,  Cripplegate,  and  AUhallow's,  Barking,  to 
warn  citizens  to  keep  within  doors.  Strype  also 
mentions  an  ordinance  of  Edward  I.,  at  a  time 
when  "certain  Hectors"  infested  the  streets  at 
night,  walking  armed,  and  committing  "  mischiefs, 
murders,  and  robberies,"  commanding  none  to 
wander  in  the  streets  after  "  coverfew"  has  sounded 
at  St.'Martin's-le-Grand. 

A  crypt  was  laid  open  in  St.  Martin's-lerGrand 
on  clearing  for  the  site  of  the  General  Post  Office, 
in  1818.  There  were  then  found  two  ranges  of 
vaults,  which  had  served  as  cellars  to  the  houses 
above ;  one  of  these  being  the  crypt  of  St.  Martin's 
(taken  down  in  1547)  and  afterwards  the  cellar  of  a 
large  wine-tavern,  the  "  Queen's  Head."  This  was 
in  the  pointed  style  of  Edward  III.,  and  was  most 
probably  the  work  of  William  of  Wykeham.  The 
second  or  westernmost  range,  which  must  have 
supported  the  nave,  was  of  earlier  date,  and  was  a 
square  vaulted  chamber,  divided  by  piers  six  feet 
square.  Here  was  found  a  coin  of  Constantine,  and 
a  stone  coffin  containing  a  skeleton ;  and  in  digging 
somewhat  lower  down,  Roman  remains  were  met 
with  in  abundance.  In  St.  Martin's-le-Grand  also, 
between  Aldersgate  and  St..  Anne's  Lane  end,  was 
the  large  tavern  of  the  "  Mourning  Bush,"  whose 
vaulted  cellars,  as  they  remain  from  the  Great, Fire 
of  1666,  disclose  the  foundation  wall  of  Aldersgate, 


and  are  a, remarkably  fine  specimen  of  early  brick 
archwork. 

The  new  Post  Ofiice  buildings,  erected  from  the 
designs  of  Mr.  James  WiUiams,  of  H.M.  Office  of 
Works  and  Public  Buildings,  were  opened  early  in 
1874.  The  building  is  rectangular,  having  front- 
ages of  286  feet  to  St.  Martin's-le-Grand  and  Bath 
Street,  and  frontages  of  144  feet  to  Newgate  Street 
and  Angel  Street,  and  is  84  feet  in  height  from  the 
paving  line.  It  stands  on  a  base  of  granite  from 
the  De  Lank  quarries,  and  the  whole  of  the  fronts 
have  been  execut&d  in  Portland  stone  of  the  hardest 
"  Whitbed."  The  building  is  four  stories  in  height, 
exclusive  of  the  basement,  and  the  floors  are  thus 
appropriated : — The  basement  is  partly  occupied 
as  office-rooms,  partly  for  stores,  and  partly  by 
the  department  of  ■  the  telegraph  engineers,  the 
large  room  in  the  centre  being  used  as  a  battery- 
room.  The  ground  floor  is  appropriated  to  the 
Postmaster-General  and  the  Accountant-General. 
On  the  first  floor  are  accommodated  the  secretaries 
and  their  staff;  the  third  and  fourth  floors  being 
appropriated  to  the  telegraph  department.  The 
fourth  floor  is  especially  deyoted  to  the  telegraph 
instruments,  and  the  pneumatic  tubes  are  laid  on 
to  it,  estabhshing  communication  with  the  district 
offices.,  The  large  instrument-room  is  125  feet  by 
80  feet  The  central  hall  is  intended  for  the  staff 
of  the  Accountant-General.  In  the  north  court 
there  are  placed  four  steam-engines,  each  of  50- 
horse  power,  for  working  the  pneumatic  tubes. 
An  Artesian  well  is  also  proposed  for  the  supply 
of  the  large,  quantity  of  water  required,  and  a 
small  engine'  will  be  kept  at  work  at  pumping  to 
the  large  tanks  (two  of  6,000  gallons  each)  at  the 
top  of  the  building.  It  is  calculated  that  about 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  of  instrument-tables  will 
be  required  in  the  telegraph  galleries. 

The  building  was  commenced  in  December)i869, 
the  first  block  of  Portland  stone  being  laid  by  thp 
Right  Hon.  A.  S.  Ayrton,  M.P.,  the  First  Com- 
missioner of  Works,  on  the  1 6th  of  December,  1870. 
The  contractor  was  Mr.  William  Brass ;  the  clerk  of 
the  works,  Mr.  William -Trickett.  The  contract 
Amounted  to  ;^i  2  9, 7 1 8. 

The  whole  of  the  carving  and  sculpture  has  been 
executed  by  Mr.  Burnie  Philip.  The  site  cost  .in 
round  numbers  ;!^3oo,ooo. 

"  In  the  telegraph  department  in  the  new  wing," 
says  Mr.  Yates,  "young  ladies  are  seated  at  the 
long  rows  of  tables  crossing  the  room  from  end  to 
end,  and,  with  few  exceptions,  each  one  has  before 
her  a  single  needle  or  printing  instrument,  the 
,'  circuit,'  or  place  with  which  it  is  in  communication, 
being  denoted  on  a  square  tablet,  something  like  a 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


216  ^ 

headstone  in  a  cemetery,  erected  immediately  in 
front  of  her.  It  may  further  be  remarked  of  these 
young  ladies,  that  they  talk  much  less  than  might 
be  expected,  work  very  quickly,  and  have  generally 
very  nice  hands." 

The  Metropolitan  Gallery,  consisting  of  a  set  of 
three  large  rooms,  is  simply  used  as  a  centre  for  the 
collection  of  messages  from  the  metropolitan  district. 
It  is  arranged  upon  the  plan  of  the  postal  districts, 
with  which  the  public  are  now  famiUar,  and  each 
division  is  under  the  superintendence  of  a  clerk  in 
charge.  All  messages  are  brought  to  the  central 
sorting-table,   and  there  subdivided  :   those  for  the 


tSt.  Marlin'sJe-Graiid. 


memory  a  tombstone  inscribed  "Holborn"  has 
been  erected,  we  find  her  at  fifty-four  and  a  half 
minutes  past  three  p.m.  writing  off  the  last  words 
of  a  message  which  had  been  handed  in  at  the 
office  on  Holborn  Viaduct  at  fifty-three  minutes 
past  three  p.m.,  and  which  will  thus  have  been 
completed  and  ready  for  sending  out  for  delivery 
within  two  minutes.  Here  in  this  south-western 
division  are  what  are  known  as  the  "  official  cir- 
cuits," worked  by  the  A  B  C  instrument,  with  the 
grinding  handle  and  the  alphabetical  depressible 
keys  familiar  to  most  of  us,  which  communicate 
with  the  War  Office,  the  Foreign  Office,  the  Treasury, 


_4_!_ 


NEW   GENERAL   POST   OFFICE,    ST.    MARTINS-LE-GRAND. 


country  being   sent  to   the   upper    or   Provmcial 
Gallery  by  a  Hft,  those  for  the  City  being  sorted 
into    different    batches,    and  dispatched  by    the 
agency  of  a  pneumatic  tube  to  the  delivery  station 
nearest   to  their    destination.      These   pneumatic 
tubes,  through  which  the  messages  are  beittg  per- 
petually shot  all  day  long,  have  been  found  of  great 
service,  and  are  now  in  operation  between  the  office 
and  the  principal  delivery  stations  in  the  City,  while 
t]iey  are  also  used  by  the  Anglo-American,  the 
Indo-European,  and  the   Falmouth  and  Gibraltar 
offices,   for   the  transmission  of  messages  to   the 
central  station.     It  should  be  here  noticed  that  the 
messages  for  the  Continent  received  at  the  office 
are  dealt  with  entirely  by  the  members  of  the  male 
staff,  a  mixed  assemblage  of  foreigners  aqd  English- 
men conversant  with  foreign  tongues.     Pausing  for 
an  instant  by  the  side  of  the  young  lady  to  whose 


the  Admiralty,  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  the 
whipper-in.  Here,  too,  is  the  last  specimen  left 
throughout  the  building  of  what  at  one  time  used 
to  be  the  favourite  telegraphic  instrument,  the 
"  double  needle,"  which  is  used  for  communication 
with  Buckingham  Palace.  At  Windsor,  Osborne, 
and  Balmoral  there  are  telegraphic  instruments, 
under  the  charge  of  a  clerk,  who  travels  with  the 
Court,  to  which  he  has  been  attached  for  some 
years ;  while  Sandringham,  Badminton,  the  seat  of 
the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  at  Caterham,  and 
the  country-houses  of  various  other  noblemen  and 
officials,  are  similarly  furnished. 

The  work  in  the  Metropolitan  Gallery,  which  is 
always  great,  is  largely,  increased  on  the  occasion 
of  any  of  our  great  cockney  festivals,  such  as  the 
Derby,  or  the  University  Boat  Race.  A  dense  fog, 
too,  brings  much  extra  business  for  them,  and  the 


St.  Martin's-le-Grand.l 


POST  OFFICE  TELEGRAPHY. 


217 


wires,  but  for  the  precaution  which  the  department 
has  been  able  to  take  against  sudden  pressure, 
would  be  choked  with  messages  explaining  the 
impossibility  of  keeping  appointments  already 
made.  All  the  messages  for  the  tube  stations  are 
sorted  into  different  pigeon-holes  marked  with  the 
name  of  the  superintendent.  Some  idea  of  the 
business  done  may  be  guessed,  when  it  is  stated  that 
there  are  already  between  three  and  four  hundred 
of  these  delivery  stations  in  London. 


but  it  is  still  clamorous  for  more,  and  is  likely  to 
have  its  wishes  gratified.  This  is  considered,  rather 
a  dull  time  in  the  office.  During  the  busy  season,  the 
daily  average  of  messages  sent,  exclusive  of  press 
messages,  has  beehnearly  20,000 ;  now  it  is  about 
16,000.  We  can  check  these  figures,  if  we  like,  by 
the  aid  of  the  superintendent  of  one  of  the  check- 
tables  close  by.  Her  account,  she  says,  stands  at 
this  time  (quarter  to  five  p.m.)  at  6,500  messages  ; 
each  of  these  has  been  sent  twice,  representing  a 


THE  YARD   OF  THE   "BULL  AND   MOUTH"   ABOUT    182O. 


The  Provincial  Gallery  is  more  interesting  as  a 
show-place  for  the  display  of  tours  de  force  than 
the  Metropolitan.  Thus,  we  are  taken  to  one  of  the 
Liverpool  circuits,  furnished  with  one  of  Hughes's 
instruments,  the  speciality  of  which  is,  that  it  re- 
cords the  message  in  actual  Roman  type,  and  are 
invited  to  communicate  with  the  clerk  at  the  in- 
strument in  the  Liverpool  office.  We  do  so,  and  in 
less  than  a  minute  and  a  half  we  see  his  printed 
reply  come  winding,  snake-like,  out  of  the  in- 
strument. This  Liverpool,  by  the  way,  is  a  very 
cormorant  of  telegraphic  communication.  Already 
it  has  eleven  direct  circuits  from  the  office,  and  five 
from  the  Stock  Exchange,  making  sixteen  in  all ; 
67^VoL.  II. 


total  of  13,000,  and   there   is  yet  plenty  of  time 
for  the  receipt  of  more. 

This  extraordinary  collection  of  apparently  the 
brass  butt-ends  of  fishing-rods,  with  thin  coils  of 
wire  running  around  and  between  them,  is  one  of  the 
most  important  of  the  internal  arrangements  at  the 
office.  It  is  called  the  testing-box,  and,  as  its  name 
imports,  is  the  place  where  the  trial  of  the  state 
and  efficiency  of  all  the  wires  is  made.  When  the 
engineer's  attention  is  called  by  a  clerk  to  a  fault  in 
the  wire  which  he  is  working,  eaich  one  of  which 
has  a  separate  number  and  letter,  he  proceeds  to 
the  test-box,  and,  by  means  of  the  galvanometer  in 
connection  therewith,  he  is  able  to  ascertain  at  once 


2l8 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Martin's-le-Gfand, 


whether  the  fault  or  fracture  is  at  his  end  of  the 
wire.  Finding  it  is  not  there,  he  then  proceeds  to 
test  the  wire  in  the  various  sections  into  which  it  is 
divided ;  thus,  supposing  it  were  a  north-western 
wire,  he  would  test  the  section  between  the  office 
and  Euston,  then  between  Euston  and  Wolverton, 
then  between  Wolverton  and  Rugby,  and  so  on, 
until  he  hit  upon  the  section,  and,  finally,  upon  the 
immediate  locality  where  the  fault  lay ;  when  the 
divisional  engineer  would  be  instructed  as  to  its 
whereabouts,  and  ordered  to  remedy  it.  Nearly  all 
the  wires  radiating  from  the  station  are  tested  at 
six  a.i"n.  every  morning,  when  every  terminal  station 
is  spoken  to  and  expected  to  reply,  to  see  if  the 
lines  are  right  throughout.  It  is  calculated  that 
there  are  nearly  sixty  miles  of  wire  under  the  floor 
of  the  Provincial  Gallery,  merely  for  making  local 
connections  with  batteries,  &c. 

Another  interesting  object  is  the  chronopher,  or 
instrument  from  which  all  England  is  supplied  with 
the  correct  time.  Sixteen  of  the  most  important 
cities  in  the  kingdom  are  in  direct  communication 
with  this  instrument,  which  is  itself  in  direct  com- 
munication with  the  Observatory  at  Greenwich.  At 
two  minutes  before  ten  every  morning  all  other  work 
is  suspended,  in  order  that  there  may  be  no  inter- 
ference with  what  is  called  the  "time  current," 
which,  precisely  at  the  striking  of  the  clock,  flashes 
the  intelligence  to  the  sixteen  stations  with  which 
it  is  in  communication.  And  not  merely  at  these 
large  towns,  but  at  every  post-office  throughout  the 
kingdom,  the  clerks  at  two.  minutes  before  ten 
are  on  the  look-out  for  the  signal  which  is  to  be 
passed  along  the  line,  and  the  clocks  are  adjusted 
accordingly.  Messrs.  Dent,  Benson,  and  all  the 
principal  watchmakers  in  London  receive  the  time 
every  hour  from  this  chronopher.  Time-guns  at 
Newcastle  and  at  Shields  are  also  fired  at  one 
p.m.  by  batteries  connected  with  the  chronopher  at 
the  office,  the  clock  attached  to  which  is  regulated 
for  accuracy  to  the  twentieth  part  of  a  second. 

The  principal  instruments  in  use  at  the  office  are 
the  single  needle,  the  Morse  inker,  the  Hughes,  and 
the  Wheatstone's  automatic. 

The  single  -  needle  instrument  conveys  its  in- 
formation by  the  varying  vibrations  of  an  indicator 
or  "  needle  "  between  two  fixed  ivory  stops.  It  is 
read  by  the  eye,  and  its  signals  are  transitory.  It 
is  as  though  the  minute-hand  of  a  small  clock,  or  a 
large  watch,  were  caused  by  the  electric  current  to 
perform  rapid  calisthenic  exercises  between  the 
points  that  indicate  eleven  and  one  o'clock.  If  the 
minute-hand  made  two  violent  efforts  to  show  that 
it  was  one  o'clock,  and  after  each  effort  returned 
exhausted  to  noon,  it  would  simply  indicate  the 


letter  M. ,  If  panting  to  go  the  right  way,  it  made 
two  powerful  efforts  to  go  the  other  way  and  re- 
tired after  each  effort  equally  unsuccessful,  it  would 
simply  indicate  the  letter  I ;  one  such  tick  to  the 
right  would  be  T,  one  to  the  left  E.  The  letters 
of  the  alphabet  are  thus  formed  by  the  movements 
of -the  indicator  to  the  right  and  left  of  some  fixed 
point,  and  every  word  is  so  spelt  out  letter  by  letter. 

The  Morse  instrument  is  different.  It  depicts 
its  telegraphic  language  on  a  long  piece  of  paper 
that  unrolls  itself  by  machinery  in  tape-like  fashion 
beneath  a  revolving  wheel,  one  half  of  which  is 
constantly  enjoying  a  cold  bath  of  ink.  While  no 
electric  current  flows,  the  paper  is  free  from  this 
circular  pen.  When  the  current  is  caused  to  speed 
its  lightning  career,  the  paper  is  pressed  against  the 
wheel,  and  a  thin  blue  line  is  traced  by  the  ink 
which  the  revolving  wheel  carries  with  it  on  the 
paper,  with  beautiful  regularity.  If  a  current,  of 
very  short  duration  be  sent,  there  is  simply  a  dot, 
like  a  full  stop,  registered  on  the  paper.  If  the 
current  be  maintained  for  a  little  longer  period,  we 

have  a ^ —  shown.     One  dot  is  the  letter  E, 

one  dash  the  letter  T,  a  dot  and  a  dash  the  letter 
A,  and  a  dash  and  a  dot  the  letter  N.  The  letters 
of  the  alphabet  are  thus  made  up  of  a  series  of  dots 
and  dashes. 

The  signals  in  both  instruments  are  made  by  the 
depression  of  a  small  lever,  which  is  moved  like 
the  key  of  a  piano.  The  needle  instrument  has  two 
keys,  One  for  the  movements  to  the  right,  the  other 
for  the  movements  to  the  left.  The  Morse  instru- 
ment has  but  one  key,  which  is  depressed  as  though 
the  telegraphic  manipulator  wished  to  play  crotchets 
and  quavers  gn  one  note,  the  crotchets  forming  the 
dots,  the  quavers  the  dashes. 

The  Hughes  instrument  is  most  readily  appre- 
ciated by  strangers,  as  it  records  the  message  in 
actual  Roman  type.  ■ 

As  regards  the  Wheatstone  instrument,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  point  out  that  the  speed  of  the  or- 
dinary Morse  is  dependent  upon  the  rate  at  which 
a  clerk  can  manipulate  his  key.  Forty  words  a 
minute  is  very  fast  sending,  and  few,  if  any,  clerks 
can  reach  forty-five  words  per  minute.  But  there 
is  no  limit  to  the  speed  of  the  electric  current,  and 
if  the  messages  are  sent  mechanically,  as  in  the 
Wheatstone,  that  is,  if  the  varying  currents  re- 
quired to  indicate  a  despatch  are  regulated  by  a 
machine  moving  with  great  speed,  we  are  not  only 
independent  of  the  limited  powers  of  the  human 
hand,  but  made  free  from  the  liability  to  error  in 
meting  out  the  proper  duration  of  the  signal.  Thus 
great  accuracy  and  great  speed  can  be  simulta- 
neously attained. 


Aldersgate.] 


REMINISCENCES  OF  ST.  MARTIN'S-LE-GRAND. 


Z19 


There  are  instruments,  also,  that  appeal  to  the 
ear  as  well  as  to  the  eye.  Bright's  bell  is  an  in- 
strument which  indicates  its  telegraphic  language 
,  by  sound ;  bells  of  different  notes  struck  by  little 
hammers  connected  with  the  right  and  left  move- 
'  ments  of  the  needle,  and  the  dot  and  dash  of  the 
Mprse.  These  little  tinkling,  talkers  rattle  forth 
their  information  with  great  speed,  and  many 
clerks  are  to  be  seen  writing  for  their  very  lives  to 
keep  up  at  the  rapid  rate  at  which  the  bells  are 
speaking. 

The  staff  at  present  employed  by  the  office  con- 
sists' of  between  seven  and  eight  hundred  clerks, 
of  whom  about  a  third  are  men,  and  two-thirds 
women.  Of  the  latter,  some  come  on  duty  at  eight 
a.m.,  and  leave  at  four  p.m. ;  others  arrive  at  twelve 
noon,  and  leave  at  eight  p.m.  It  is  noticeable  that 
no  women  are  on  duty  before  eight  a.m.  or  after 
eight  p.m. ;  but  the  night  duties  are  performed  by 
a  special  night  male  staff,  who  are  employed  from 
eight  p.m.  to  nine  a.m.,  under  the  superintendence 
of  a  clerk  in  charge.  Before  the  transfer  of  the 
office  to  the  Government,  the  male  and  female  staff 
were  kept  rigidly  apart,  and  marriage  between  any 
members  of  either  entailed  the  loss  of  situation 
on  both  the  contracting  parties.  But  a  paternal 
Government  looks  upon  these  matters  with  a  much 
more  benevolent  eye,  and  so  far  from  forbidding 
matrimony,  is  understood  to  encourage  it. 

The  old  sanctuary  privileges  of  St.  Martin's- 
le-Grand  led  to  infinite  mischief.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  up  to  the  time  of  the  mischievous  and  abused 
rights  of  sanctuary  being  abolished,  St.  Martin's- 
le-Grand  was  a  mere  refuge  for  rogties,  ruffians, 
thieves,  and  murderers.  Any  rascal  who  stabbed 
his  pot-companion,  or  struck  down  an  innocent 
traveller  in  a  dark  bye-street,  any  red-handed 
brawler,  could  rush  through  the  monastic  gates  and 
shelter  himself  in  this  den  of  crime.  Here  also, 
says  Stow,  harboured  picklocks,  forgers,  coiners, 
makers  of  sham  jewellery,  carders,  dicers,  and  other 
gamblers.  After  the  dissolution  a  tavern  was  built 
where  the  college  church  had  stood. 

In  Elizabethan  times,  when  sanctuary  privileges 
were'  still  claimed,  French,  German,  Dutch,  and 
Scotch  artificers  settled  here.  Here  lived  shoe- 
makers, tailors,  button-makers,  goldsmiths,  purse- 
makers,  drapers,  and  silk-weavers,  and  the  first 
Flemish  silk-throwers  settled  here.  In  1569  the 
number  of  inhabitants  was  269.  There  were  fre- 
quently disorders  in  this  turbulent  Liberty,  the 
inhabitants  of  which  often  objected  to  pay  taxes, 
in  the  Plague-time  refused  when  stricken  to  close 
their  doors  and  windows,  and  often  erased  the  red 
cross  set  upon  their  houses,  and  even  threatened 


the  constable  and  headboroughs  who,  according  to 
law,  painted  them  up.     "  And  some,"  says  Stow, 
"repaired  to  the  court  with  their  wares,  a  thing 
dangerous  to  the  queen  and  nobility ;"  and,  there 
being  no  prison  in  the  Liberty,  the  Liberty  people 
sent  to  the  Gate  House  at  Westminster  frequently 
brought  actions  for  such  illegal  imprisonment. 
Butler,  in  "  Hudibras,"  speaks  of  this  district— 
"  'Tis  not  those  paltry  counterfeits, 
French  stones,  which  in  our  eyes  you  set, 
But  our  right  diamonds  that  inspire, 
And  set  your  am'rous  hearts  on  fire. 
Nor  can  those  false  St  Martin's  beads, 
Which  on  our  lips  you  place  for  reds, 
And  make  us  wear,  like  Indian  dames, 
Add  fuel  to  your  scorching  flames. " 

"Round  Court,  St.  Martin's -le- Grand,  hath  a 
passage  leading  into  Blowbladder  Street,  which  is 
taken  up," says  Strype,  "by  milliners,  sempstresses, 
and  such  as  sell  a  sort  of  copper  lace  called  St. 
Martin's  lace,  for  which  it  is  of  note.'' 

On  the  west  side  of  Aldersgate  Street  stood  the 
London  residence  of  the  Nevilles,  Earls  of  West- 
moreland (still  indicated  by  Westmoreland  Build- 
ings), and  close  on  the  site  of  Bull  and  Mouth 
Street,  stood  the  mansion  of  the  Percys,  Earls  of 
Northumberland.  At  her  house  in  this  street,  in 
1621,  died  Mary,  Countess  of  Pembroke,  "  Sydney's 
sister,  Pembroke's  mother,"  a  lady  immortalised  in 
Ben  Jonson's  hyperbolic  yet  noble  epitaph.  As 
an  "  ancient  dame,"  whom  Shakespeare  must  have 
seen  and  honoured,  we  claim  in  Aldersgate  Street 
remembrance  for  him,  as  well  as  for  Milton,  who, 
according  to  Philips,  had,  at  one  time,  "a  pretty 
garden-house  in  this  street,  at  the  end  of  an  entry." 
The  great  coaching-inn  of  Aldersgate  Street,  in  the 
old  time,  was  the  "  Bull  and  Mouth."  The  original 
name  of  this  inn  was  "  Boulogne  Mouth,"  in  allusion 
to  tlie  town  and  harbour  of  Bouloge,  besieg  ed 
by  Henry  VIII.  But  the  "  gne "  being  generally 
pronounced  by  the  Londoners  "on,"  it  gradually 
became  "an,"  and  it  only  required  the  small 
addition  of  "  d"  to  make  "  and"  of  it.  The  first  part 
being  before  this  made  a  "  bull"  of,  it  was  ultimately 
converted  into  the  "  Bull  and  Mouth." 

The  "Queen's  Hotel,"  St.  Martins-le-Grand,  rebuilt 
in  1830,  now  occupies  the  site  of  the  old  "  Bull  and 
Mouth."  On  the  front  there  is  a  statuette  of  a  bull, 
above  which  are  the  bust  of  Edward  VI.,  and  the 
arms  of  Christ's  Hospital,  to  which  the  ground 
belongs.  The  old  inn  stood  in  Bull  and  Mouth 
Street,  and  the  south  side  in  Angel  Street  still 
retains  the  name  of  the  old  inn,  but  is  merely  a 
luggage  depot  of  Chaplin  and  Hornq.  On  the  front 
of  the  present  hotel,  much  affected  by  Manchester 
men,   under  the  turbulent  little  bull,  is  a  stone 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


tAldersgate. 


tablet  probably  from  the  old  inn,  and  on  it  are 
deeply  cut  the  following  quaint  lines  : — 

"  Milo  the  Cretonian 
An  ox  slew  with  his  fist, 
And  ate  it  up  at  one  meal, 
Ye  gods,  what  a  glorious  twist ! " 

Howell  in  his  Londinopolis,  1657,  speaking  of 
the  spacious  and  uniform  buildings  which  made 
Aldersgate  Street  almost  resemble  a  street  in  an 
Italian  town,  calls  Jewin  Street  "a  handsome  new 
street,  fairly  built  by  the  Company  of  Goldsmiths." 

Jewin  Street,  Aldersgate,  in  Stow's  time  was 
full  of  "fair  garden  plots  and  summer  houses  for 
pleasure."  It  was  anciently  called  "Leyrestow," 
and  was  granted  by  Edward  I.  to  Williain  de  Monte- 
forte,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's.  For  several  centuries  this 
spot  was  the  only  one  allowed  the  London  Jews 
as  a  place  of  interment ;  but  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
II.,  after  long  suits  to  King  and  Parliament,  they 
obtained  leave  to  buy  local  graveyards. 

Aldersgate  Street,  dear  to  business  nien  for  its 
Post  Office,  is  hallowed  to  authors  by  having  once, 
as  we  have  already  said,  been  the  residence  of 
Milton.  Here  the  poet  came,  with  bag  and  bag- 
gage, in  1643,  the  year  after  Edgehill,  removing 
from  St.  Bride's  Churchyard,  the  site  of  the  present 
Punch  office,  Avhere  he  had  kept  a  small  school. 
This  residence  is  especially  interesting  to  those 
who  honour  our  great  poet,  as  it  was  here  he 
became  reconciled  to  Mary  ^owell,  his  first  wife, 
the  daughter  of  an  Oxfordshire  Cavalier.  As  a  first 
step  to  their  re-union,  Milton  placed  his  wife  in 
the  house  of  one  Widow  Weber,  in  St.  Clement's 
Churchyard.  Mr.  Jesse  has  pointed  out  very 
happily  the  possible  reminiscence  contained  in 
"Paradise  Lost"  to  this  reconciliation.  In  his 
beautiful  description  of  Adam's  reconciliation  with 
Eve,  after  their  fall,  Milton,  says  Mr.  Jesse,  had 
evidently  in  his  mind  his  own  first  interview  with  his 
repentant  wife,  after  her  unhappy  estrangement — 

"  She,  not  repulsed,  with  tears  that  ceased  not  flowing, 
And  tresses  all  disordered,  at  his  feet 
Fell  humble,  and,  embracing  them,  besought 
His  peace." 

And  again — 

"  Soon  his  heart  relented 
Towards  her,  his  life  so  late,  and  sole  delight. 
Now  to  his  feet  submissive  in  distress." 
Milton's  reconciliation  with  his  wife  took  place 
in  July,    1645,    in  which   year  he  removed  from 
Aldersgate  Street  to  a  larger  house  in  Barbican. 
Here  he  remained  till  1647,  when  he  took  a  smaller 
house  in  High  Holborn,  overlooking  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields.  After  the  Restoration  he  removed  to  a  house 
in  Jewin  Street,  where  he  married  his  third  wife. 
On  the  east  side  of  Aldersgate  Street,  Nos.  35 


to  38  (still  distinguished  by  a  series  of  eight 
pilasters),  stands  Shaftesbury  or  Thanet  House, 
one  of  Inigo  Jones's  fine  old  mansions,  formerly 
the  London  residence  of  the  Tuftons,  Earls  of 
Thanet.  From  them  it  passed  into  the  family 
of  that  clever  and  dangerous  political  intriguer, 
Anthony  Ashley  Cooper,  Earl  of  Shaftesbury, 
the  hated  "  Achitophel "  of  Dryden,  of  whom 
it  was  said  in.  jest  that  he  hoped  to  be  chosen 
King  of  Poland.  He  was  the  idol  of  the  anti- 
Popery  apprentices,  the  hatcher  of  the  Popish 
plot,  the  rival  of  Buckingham  for  the  favour  of  the 
Whigs,  a  man  seditious  and  restless  as  Wilkes,  yet, 
like  that  demagogue,  a  constant  striver  for  con- 
stitutional liberty.  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  the  Notes 
to  his  edition  of  "Dryden,"  anticipatory  of  his 
"  Peveril  of  the  Peak,"  says  of  Shaftesbury — 

"Being  heir  to  a  plentiful  fortune,  a  Mem- 
ber of  Parliament,  and  high  sheriff  of  the  county 
of  Dorset,  he  came  to  Oxford  when  the  Civil 
War  broke  out,  and  though  then  only  twenty- 
one  or  twenty-two  years  of  age,  presented  to 
the  king  a  digested  plan  for  compromising  matters 
between  him  and  his  subjects  in  arms  against  him. 
Charles  observed,  he  was  a  very  young  man  for  so 
great  an  undertaking  ;  to  which,  with  the  readiness 
which  marked  his  character,  he  answered,  that 
would  not  be  the  worse  for  the  king's  af^irs, 
provided  the  business  was  done.  He  had,  in 
consequence,  a  commission  from  the  king  to  pro- 
mise indemnity  and  redress  of  grievances  to  such 
of  the  Parliamentary  garrisons  as  would  lay  down 
their  arms.  Accordingly,  his  plan  seems  to  have 
taken  some  effect;  for  Weymouth  actually  sur- 
rended  to  tlie  king,  and  Sir  Anthony  Ashley  Cooper, 
as  his  style  then  was,  was  made  governor.  Some 
delays  occurred  in  the  course  of  his  obtaining  this 
office ;  and  whether  disgusted  with  these,  and  giving 
scope  to  the  natural  instability  of  his  temper,  as  is 
intimated  by  Clarendon,  or  offended,  as  Mr.  Locke 
states,  at  Weymouth  having  been  plundered  by 
Prince  Maurice's  forces,  he  made  one  of  those 
sudden  turns,  of  which  his  political  career  furnishes 
several  instances,  and  went  over  to  the  other  side. 
After  this.  Clarendon  says  that  '  he  gave  up  him- 
self, body  and  soul,  to  the  Parliament,  and  became 
an  implacable  enemy  to  the  Royal  Family.' " 

Shaftesbury  is  thus  described  by  the  author  of  a 
poem,  entitled  "The  Progress  of  Honesty  j"  or  the 
view  of  Court  and  City  : — 

"  Some  call  him  Hophni,  some  Achitophel, 

Others  chief  Advocate  for  hell ; 

Some  cry,  he  sure  a  second  James  is,  '1 

And  all  things  past  and  present  sees  ; 

Another,  rapt  in  satire,  swears  his  eyesi 

Upon  himself  are  spies  ; 


Aldersgate.] 


"THIS  WAS. SHAKESPEARE'S  HOUSE." 


221 


And  slily  do  their  optics  inward  roul, 
To  watch  the  subtle  motions  of  his  soul ; 
That  they  with  sharp  perspective  sight, 
And  help  of  intellectual  light, 
May  guide  the  helm  of  state  aright. 
Nay,  view  what  will  hereafter  be, 
By  their  all-seeing  quality." 

But  Dryden's  was  the  most  terrible  portrait  of 
this  busy  politician  : — 

"  For  close  designs,  and  crooked  counsels  fit 
Sagacious,  bold,  and  turbulent  of  wit ; 
Restless,  unfixed  in  principles  and  place, 
In  power  unpleased,  impatient  of  disgrace  ; 
A  fiery  soul,  which,  working  out  its  way. 
Fretted  the  pigmy-body  to  decay. 
And  d'er-informed  the  tenement  of  clay, 
A  daring  pilot  in  extremity, 

Pleased  with  the  danger  when  the  waves  went  high. 
He  sought  the  storms  ;  but,  for  a  calm  unfit. 
Would  steer  too  nigh  the  sands  to  boast  his  wit." 

The  author  of  "  Hudibras  "  has  sketched  Shaftes- 
bury with  the  etching  tool  of  Gilray. 

"  'Mong  these  there  was  a  politician. 
With  more  heads  than  a  beast  in  vision. 
And  more  intrigues  in  every  one  ' 

Than  all  the  whores  of  Babylon  ; 
So  poHtic,  as  if  one  eye 
Upon  the  other  were  a  spy. 
That,  to  trepan  the  one  to  think 
The  other  blind,  both  strove  to  blink  ; 
And  in  his  dark  pragmatic  way 
As  busy  as  a  child,  at  play. 
He  had  seen  three  governments  run  down, 
And  had  a  hand  in  every  one  ; 
Was  for  'em.  and  against  'em  all, 
But  barb'rous  when  they  came  to  faU  ; 
For,  by  trepanning  th'  old  to  ruin, 
He  made  his  interest  with  the  new  one  ; 
Play'd  true  and  faithful,  though  against 
His  conscience,  and  was  still  advanc'd. 
Could  turn  his  word,  and  oath,  and  faith, 
As  many  ways  as  in  a  lath  ; 
By  turning,  wriggle,  like  a  screw, 
Int'  highest  trust,  and  out,  for  new. 
Would  strive  to  raise  himself  upon 
The  public  ruin,  and  his  own. 
So  little  did  he  understand 
The  desperate  feats  he  took  in  hand. 
For,  when  h'  had  got  himself  a  name 
For  fraud  and  tricks,  he  spoiled  his  game  ; 
Had  forc'd  his  neck  into  a  noose. 
To  show  his  play  at  fast  and  loose ; 
And,  when,  he  chanc'd  t'  escape,  mistook. 
For  art  and  subtlety,  his  luck." 

Hudibras,  Part  III.,  Canto  2. 

Thomas  Flatman,  that  tame  poet  of  Charles  II.'s 
time,  whom  almost  every  withng  of  the  period 
belaboured,  was  born,  in  Aldersgate  Street  in  1633. 

Almost  opposite  to  Shaftesbury  House  stood 
Petre  House,  the  residence  of  the  Petre  family  in 
the  great  Elizabethan  times ;  and  of  Henry  Pierre- 
point,  Marquis  of  Dorchester,  in  the  days  of  the 


Commonwealth.  It  was  also  used  as  a  state  prison 
in  the  Commonwealth-times,  and  subsequently 
became  the  temporary  abode  of  the  Bishops  of 
London,  after  the  Great  Fire  had  treated  their 
mansion  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard  in  a  Puritanical 
and  remorseless  way.  In  1688,  when  the  selfish 
Princess  Anne  deserted  her  father,  James  II.,  and 
fled  at  night  from  Whitehall,  she  was  conducted 
by  tjie  warlike  Bishop  Compton  to  his  house  in 
Aldersgate  Street  in  a  hackney  coach. 

,  The  street  of  which  we  are  taking  stock  in  this 
chapter  contains  singularly  few  churches.  St^ 
Anne-in-the-Willows  we  have  already  visited  (some- 
what, perhaps,  out  of  sequence) ;  the  remaining 
church,  St.  Botolph's,.  at  the  corner  of  Little  Britain, 
but  for  its  mean  bell-turret  and  pretty  fizzing 
fountain,  singularly  resembles  a  meeting-house.  It 
was  erected  in  1790  on  the  site  of  the  old  building, 
which  had  escaped  the  Great  Fire.  An  old  Jacobean 
pulpit  in  the  vestibule  is  the  only  relic  of  the  old 
church,  except  the  few  uninteresting  monuments. 
There  is  one  to  a  worthy  Dame  Anne  Packington 
(died  1563),  who  founded  almshouses  near  the 
White  Friars'  Church,  in  Fleet  Street,  which  were 
left  under  the  superintendence  of  the  Clothworkers' 
Company;  one  to  Richard  Chiswellj  an  eminent 
bookseller  (died  17 11),  and  another  to  an  EUzabeth 
Smith,  with  a  cameo  bust  by  Roubiliac. 

At  the  north-east  end  of  this  street  of  noblemen's 
houses,  not  far  from  Shaftesbury  House,  stood 
Lauderdale  HouSe,  the  residence  of  that  cruel  and 
linprincipled  minister  of  Charles  11.  Lauderdale 
was  one  of  those  five  "thorough-going"  adherents 
of  Charles  II.  who  formed  the  "cabal"  (Clifford, 
Ashley,  Buckingham,  Arlington,  and  Lauderdale), 
after  Clarendon's  exile,  and  tlie  death  of  South- 
ampton and  Monk.  It  was  this  same  unscrupulous 
inhabitant  of  Aldersgate  Street  whom  Charles,  in 
1669,  sent  to  Edinburgh  as  High  Commissioner 
to  the  Scottish  Parliament,  to  put  down  conventicles 
Avith  a  high  hand,  to  fine  Presbyterians,  and  to 
hang  and  shoot  field-preachers,  severities  which 
eventually  led  to  the  rebellion  of  the  Covenanters 
of  1679.  There  must  have  been  many  a  quiet  and 
many  a  state  visit  made  from  Shaftesbury  House  to 
Lauderdale  House. 

An  audacious  board  over  two  small  shops.  No.' 
134,  half-way  down  Aldersgate  Street  on  the  west 
side,  boldly  asserts  that  "This  was  Shakespeare's 
House. ^'  There  is  no  documentary  evidence  (the 
'best  of  all  evidence),  and  not  even  a  tradition, 
to  connect  our  great  poet's  name  with  the  house, 
or  even  with  the  street,  often  as  he  may  have 
visited  good  Master  AUeyn's  Fortune  Theatre  in 
Golden  Lane.    The  assertion  is  as  impudent  as  that 


222 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONbON. 


[Atdersgaw. 


which  claims  a  small  house,  opposite  Chancery 
Lane,  as  the  palace  of  "  Wclsey  and  Henry  VIII." 
An  antiquary  of  authority  has  clearly  shown  that  no 
residence  of  Shakespeare's  in  London  is  actually 
known.  There  was  a  house  in  Blackfriars  which  he 
purchased  in  March,  1612-13,  from  Henry  Walker, 
"abutting  from  a  street  leading  down  to  Puddle 
Wharf,  on  the  east  part,  right  against  the  King's 
Majesty's  Wardrobe,"  and  the  counterpart  of  the 
original  conveyance  of  which  (bearing  the  signature 
of  Shakespeare),   is  in  the   library  at   Guildhall. 


subsidy  roll  of  1598,  preserved  at  the  Carlton  Ride, 
in  which  the  name  of  "  William  Shakespeare  "  occurs 
as  the  owner  of  property  then  to  the  value  of  ;^5, 
and  on  which  a  tax  of  13s.  4d.  was  assessed.  But 
that  roll  has  the  memorandum  "  affid."  affixed  to  his 
name,  and  that  means  that  an  affidavit  had  been 
produced,  showing  that  he  did  not  reside  in  the, 
parish  or  district.  Shakespeare's  name,  in  respect 
of  that  property,  does  not  occur  before  rsgS,  nor 
is  it  heard  of  after  that  date.  Besides,  we  are  not 
to  jump  to   the    conclusion    that    every   William 


SHAFTESBURY  HOUSE.     {.From  a  pint  of  \%io.) 


That  house  is  of  course  undoubtedly  connected  with 
Shakespeare  ;  but  although  he  was  the  owner  oT  it, 
none  of  his  editors  believe  he  ever  lived  in  it.  Mr. 
Knight  and  other  commentators  conjecture  that  this 
house  was  purchased  in  reference  to  some  object  cen- 
nected  with  Blackfriars  Theatre ;  but  in  addition 
to  that— although  we  do  not  positively  know  when 
Shakespeare  retired  from  London— all  his  bio- 
graphers are  of  opinion  that  he  left  London,  and 
went  back  to  his  native  Stratford  to  spend  the 
remainder  of  his  days,  about  the  year  16 10  or  161 1. 
The  only  other  place  probably  connected  with 
Shakespeare's  name  was  a  property  in  St.  Helen's 
parish,  in  the  ward  of  Bishopsgate.     There  is  a 


Shakespeare  then  living  in  London  was  w^;- William 
Shakespeare.  These  are  the  only  two  houses  in 
London  that  can  be  associated  with  Shakespeare, 
and  they  have  long  since  been  improved  off  the 
face  of  the  earth.  The  concocter  of  the  board, 
says  the  antiquary  we  have  quoted,  finding  out  that 
a  public-house  in  that  neighbourhood  had  been 
mentioned  as  having  been  a  place"of  resort  of  the 
most  celebrated  wits  of  the  sixteenth  century,  at 
once  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  this  was  "the 
house,"  and  further,  that  Shakespeare,  being  a  wit 
of  that  period,  he  took  it  for  granted  that  the  poet 
came  there  to  slake  his  thirst,  and  so  tickets  this 
house  with  Shakespeare's  name. 


Aldersgate.j. 


'riiE  feAkBicA^r. 


'  Barbican,  an  essential  tributary  of  Aldersgate 
Street,  derives  its  Saracenic-sounding*  name,  ac- 
cording to  all  old  London  antiquaries,  from  the 
Saxon  words,  "  burgh  kennin,"  or  "  postern  tower," 
the  remains  of  which  existed  a  little  north  of  the 
street  till  towards    the  end   of  the  last    century. 


entrusted  to  Robert  Ufford,  Earl  of  Suffolk,  no 
doubt  a  valiant  and  stout  knight,  in  whose  family 
it  remained  hereditary,  through  the  female  line, 
till  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary.  In  that  cruel  reign 
it  is  on  record  that  the  Barbican  (then  a  mere 
sinecure,  and   no  longer  needed  by  the  City  for 


THE  FORTUNE  THEATRE.     (Protn  a  print  published  by  Wilkinson,  1811.) 


According  to  Bagford,  a  good  old  London  antiquary, 
vho  died  in  i^6,  and  who,  from  being  a  shoe- 
naker,  turned  bookseller,  printer,  and  collector  of 
)ooks  for  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  the  Romans  kept 
ratch  at  night  in  that  tower,  and  gave  notice  of 
:onflagrations,  or  an  approaching  army.  At  night 
hey  lit  bonfires  on  the  top  of  the  turret,*to  guide 
ravellers  to  the  City. 
In  thp  reign  of  Edward  III.  the  Barbican  was 


defence)  was  in  the  keeping  of  the  Baroness 
Katharine  Willoughby  d'Eresby,  baroness  in  her 
own  right,  and  widow  of  Charles  Brandon,  Duke 
of  Suffolk,  who  lived  in  a  lordly  mansion  near  the 
spot.  This  was  that  daring  Protestant  lady  who  so 
narrowly  escaped  the  Smithfield  fires  for  calling  her 
lap-dog  Gardiner  (after  the  detested  bishop,  Bonner's 
worthy  yoke-fellow),  and  dressing  him  up  in  small 
episcopal  rochet  and  surplice.     For  this  practical 


224 


OLD  AND  iSTEW  LONDOiST. 


[Aldersgate. 


joke  the  jocose  lady  and  Richard  Bertie,  her  second 
husband,  ancestor  of  the  Dukes  of  Ancaster,  had 
to  fly  to  Poland,  where  the  king,  according  to  Mr. 
Jesse,  installed  them  in  the  earldom  of  Crozan. 

On  the!  site  of  Bridgewater  Square  resided  the 
Egertons,  Earls  of  Bridgewater,  in  a  mansion 
famous  for  its  fruitful  orchards.  The  house  was 
burnt  down  in  April,  1687,  during  the  occupancy  of 
John,  third  earl,  "when  his  tvvo  infant  heirs," 
Says  Mr.  Jesse,  "  Chaiies,  Viscount  Brackley,  and 
his  second  son  Thomas,  perished  in  the  flames." 
Hatton,  in  1708,  calls  Bridgewater  Square  "a  new, 
pleasant,  though  very  small  square ; "  and  Strype 
mentions  it  as  "  well  inhabited,  the  middle  neatly 
enclosed  with  palisado  pales,  and  set  round  with 
trees,  which  renders  the  place  very  delightful." 

Sir  Henry  Spelman  (born  1562),  the  learned  and 
laborious  author  of  the  "  Glossarium,"  that  great 
archseological  work  completed  by  Dugdale,  died  at 
his  house  in  Barbican,  1640. 

Beech  Lane,  Barbican,  where  Prince  Rupert 
resided,  and  worked  on  his  chemical  experiments 
and  his  mezzotint  plates,  was  probably  so  called, 
says  Stowi  from  Nicholas  de  la  Beech,  Lieutenant 
of  the  Tower,  who  was  deprived  of  his  office  by 
Edward  III.  Stow,  whose  clue  we  ever  follow, 
describes  the  lane,  in  Elizabeth's  time,  as  stretching 
from  Redcross  Street  to  Whitecross  Street,  and 
adorned' with  "  beautiful  houses  of  stone,  brick,  and 
timber."  An  old  house  in  Barbican  belonging  to 
the  Abbot  of  Ramsay  was  aftelTvards  called  Drury 
House,  from  the  worshipful  owner.  Sir  Drew  Drury, 
also  of  Drury  Lane.  This  was  the  house  Prince 
Rupert  afterwards  occupied;  and  parts  of  the 
mansion  were  in  existence  as  late  as  1796.  Here 
lived  the  fiery  prince,  whom  Time  had  softened  mto 
a  rough  old  philosopher,  fond  of  old  soldiers,  and 
somewhat  of  a  butt  at  Whitehall  among  the  scoffing 
Rochesters  of  his  day,  who  were  all  a  la  modi  de 
France.  Here  Evelyn  visited  Rupert.  In  the  parish 
books  of  St.  Giles's,  Cripplegate,  a  guinea  is  set 
down  as  payment  to  the  ringers  on  £he  occasion  of 
Charles  II.  visiting  the  prince  at  his  Barbican 
house.  In  Strype's  time  the  street  had  lost  its 
gentility,  and  was  inhabited  by  clothes-salesmen, 
and  on  the  site  of  the  old  watch-tower  fronting 
Redcross  Street,  stood  an  ignoble  watchhouse  for 
the  brawling  Mohocks  of  the  day. 

The  Fortune,  orte  of  the  celebrated  and  one  of 
the  earliest  Elizabethan  theatres,  stood  between 
Whitecross  Street  and  Golding  Lane.  It  was 
opened  about  1600  by  Philip  Henslowe  and  Ed- 
ward Alleyn;  and  here,  and  at  the  Beaj-garden, 
Bankside,  Southwark,  of  which  he  was  the  pro- 
priator,  the  latter  actor  derived  the  money  after- 


wards bestowed  on  God's-gift  College,  at  DulwicI:, 
An  adjoining  passage  still  retains  the  name  of  Play- 
house Yard.  AUeyn's  theatre  was  burnt  down  in 
162 1,  and  was  shortly  afterwards  rebuilt,  but  again 
destroyed,  in  1649,  by  some  rough  and  fanatical 
Puritan  soldiers.  Many  of  the  actors  of  this  theatre, 
in  the  last  scene  of  all,  when  they  had  shuflJed  off 
this  mortal  coil,  were  buried  at  St.  Giles's,  Cripplegate. 
In  Golding  Lane  also  stood  the  Nursery,  a  semi- 
nary for  educating  children  for  the  profession  of  the 
stage,  established  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  under 
the  auspices  (says  Mr.  Jesse)  of  Colonel  William 
Legge,  Groom  of  the  Bedchamber  to  that  monarch, 
and  uncle  to  the  first  Lord  Dartmouth.  Dryden 
speaks  of  it  in  his  "  Mac  Flecknoe  " : — 

"  Near  these  a  Nursery  erects  its  head, 
Where  queens  are  formed,  and  future  heroes  hred ; 
Where  unfledged  actors  learn  to  laugh  and  cry, 
Where  infant  punks  their  tender  voices  try, 
And  little  Maximins  the  gods  defy  ; 
Great  Fletcher  nerer  treads  in  buskins  here, 
Nor  greater  Jonson  dares  in  socks  appear." 

In  Pepys'  "  Diary "  are  the  following  notices  of 
the  Nursery: — "and  Aug.,  1664.  To  the  King's 
Playhouse.  ....  I  chanced  to  sit  by  Tom  Killi- 
grew,  who  tells  me  that  he  is  setting  up  a  Nursery ; 
that  is,  is  going  to  build  a  house  in  Moorfields, 
wherein  he  will  have  common  plays  acted. 

"  24th  Feb.,  1667-8.  To  the  Nursery,  where 
none  of  us  ever  were  before ;  the  house  is  better 
and  the  music  better  than  we  looked  for,  and  the 
acting  not  much  worse,  because  I  expected  as  bad 
as  could  be ;  and  I  was  not  much  mistaken,  for  it 
was  so.  Their  play  was  a  bad  one,  called  Jeronimo 
is  Mad  Again,  a  tragedy." 

According  to  Stow,  the  antiquaries  of  his  time 
believed  that  Little  Britain,  without  Aldersgate,  was 
so  called  from  the  Earls  of  Brittany  lodging  there, 
just  as  Scotland  Yard  was  where  the  Kings  of  Scot- 
land took  up  their  quarters,  and  Petty  Wales,  in 
Thames  Street,  where  Prince  Hal  held  his  noisy 
court.  R.  B,,  in  Strype,  defines  Little  Britain  as  * 
stretching  from  Aldersgate  Street,  by  the  corner  of 
St.  Botolph's  Church,  running  up  to  the  Pump;, 
then,  as  it  grows  wider,  turning  north  up  Duck 
Lane  into  another  passage  turning  to  "  the  Lame 
Hospital,  or  Bartholomew's  Hospital^"  It  was  full 
of  "  old  booksellers,"  especially  from  the  Pump  to 
Duck  Lane.  Here,  especially  during  the  Common- 
wealth, any  hour  in  the  day,  might  have  been  found 
such  amiable  dozy  old  antiquaries  as  still  haunt 
old  bookstalls  '("  all  these  for.  sixpence  each "), 
poring  over  black-letter  pamphlets  and  yellow  flying- 
sheets  of  the  Civil  War  time,  spectacles  on .  nose, 
and  crutch-cane  in  hand,  intent  on  culling  odd 


LITTLE  BRITAIN. 


22S 


learning;  and  errant 'prentice-boys,  their  rough  hair 
on  end  at  the  wonders  of  some  story-l?boks,  which 
they  would  have  given  a  month's  wages  to  buy. 

"  It  may  not  be  amiss/'  says  Rogeir  North,  in 
his  Life  of  the  Hon.  and  Rev.  Dr.  John  North, 
1740-42,  "to  step  aside  to  reflect  on  the  vast 
change  in  the  trade  of  books  between  that  time 
(about  1670)  and  ours.  Then  Little  Britain  was 
a  plentiful  and  perpetual  emporium  of  learned 
authors ;  and  men  went  thither  as  to  a  market. 
This  drew  to  the  place  a  mighty  trade ;  the  rather 
because  the  shops  were  spacious,  and  the  learned 
gladly  resorted  to  them,  where  they  seldom  failed 
to  meet  with  agreeable  conversation.  And  the 
booksellers  themselves  were  knowing  and  con- 
versable men,  with  whom,  for  the  sake  of  bookish 
knowledge,  the  greatest  wits  were  pleased  to  con- 
verse. And  we  may  judge  the  time  as  well  spent 
there  as  (in  latter  days)  either  in  tavern  or  coffee- 
house ....  but  now  this  emporium  is  vanished, 
and  the  trade  contracted  into  the  hands  of  two  or 
three  persons." 

Isaac  Walton  sketches  Little  Britain  in  his  Life 
of  Dr.  Robert  Sanderson.  "  About  the  time,"  he 
says,  "  of  his  printing  this  excellent  preface,"  that 
is  to  say,  the  preface  to  his  last  twenty  sermons, 
first  printed  in  1655,  "I  met  him  accidentally 
in  London,  in  sad-coloured  clothes,  and,  God 
knows,  far  from  being  costly.  The  place  of  our 
meeting  was  near  to  Little. Britain,  where  he  had 
been  to  buy  a  book,  which  he  then  had  in  his 
hand.  We  had  no  inclination  to  part  presently,  and 
therefore  turned  to  stand  in  a  corner  under  a  pent- 
house (for  it  began  to  rain),  and  immediately  the 
wind  rose,  and  the  rain  increased  so  much,  that 
both  became  so  inconvenient  as  to  force  us  into  a 
cleanly  house,  where  we  had  bread,  cheese,  ale,  and 
a  fire  for  our  money." 

Here,  too,  Milton's  great  work  was  published, 
and  lay  for  a  time  unnoticed  on  the  stalls.  "  Dr. 
Tancred  Robinson,"  says  Richardson,  in  his  "  Re- 
marks," "  has  given  permission  to  use  his  name,  and 
what  I  am  going  to  relate  he  had  from  Fleet 
(wood)  Shepherd  at  the  Grecian  Coffee  House, 
and  who  often  told  the  story.  The  Earl  of  Dorset 
was  in  Little  Britain,  beating  about  for  books  to 
his  taste ;  there  was  '  Paradise  Lost'  He  was  sur- 
prised with  some  passages  he  struck  upon,  dipping 
here  and  there,  and  bought  it.  The  bookseller 
begged  him  to  speak  in  its  favour  if  he  lik'd  it,  for 
that  they  lay  on  his  hasids  as  waste  paper ;  Jesus- 
Shepherd  was  present.  My  Lord  took  it  home, 
read  it,  and  sent  it  to  Dryden,  who  in  a  short  time 
returned  it.  '  This  man  (says  Dryden)  c\jts  us  all 
put,  and  the  ancients  too.' "  . 


Later  still  we  find  that  amiable  writer,  Wash- 
ington Irving,  wandering  contemplatively  in  Little 
Britain.  "  In  the  centre  of  the  great  City  of  London," 
he  says,  "lies  a  small  neiglibourhood,  consisting  of  a" 
cluster  of  narrow  streets  and  courts,  of  very  venerable 
and  debilitated  houses,  which  goes  by  the  name  of 
'Litde  Britain.'  Christ  Church  School  and  St. 
Bartholomew's  Hospital  bound  it  on  the  west; 
Smithfield  and  Long  Lane  on  the  north ;  Alders- 
gate  Street,  like  an  arm  of  the  sea,  divides  it  from 
the  eastern  part  of  the  City;  whilst  the  yawning 
gulf  of  Bull-and-Mouth  Street  separates  it  from 
Butcher  Lane,  and  the  regions  of  Newgate. 
Over  this  little  territory,  thus  bounded  and  desig- 
nated, the  great  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  swelling  above 
the  intervening  houses  of  Paternoster  Row,  Amen 
Corner,  and  Ave-Maria  Lane,  looks  down  with  an 
air  of  motherly  protection.  .  .  .  But  though  thus 
fallen  into  decline,  Little  Britain  still  bears  traces 
of  its  former  splendour.  There  are  several  houses 
ready  to  tumble  down,  the  fronts^  of  which  are 
magnificently  enriched  with  old  oak  carvings  pf 
hideous  faces,  unknown  birds,  beasts,  and  fishes ; 
and  fruits  and  flowers  which  it  would  perplex  a 
naturalist  to  classify.  There  are  also,  in  Aldersgate 
Street,  certain  remains  of  what  were  once  spacious 
and  lordly  family  mansions,  but  which  have  in  latter 
days  been  subdivided  into  several  tenements. 
Here  may  often  be  found  the  family  t)f  a  petty 
tradesman,  with  its  trumpery  furniture,  burrowing 
among  the  relics  of  antiquated  finery,  in  great 
rambling  time-stained  apartments,  with  fretted 
ceihngs,  gilded  cornices,  and  enormous  marble  fire- 
places. The  lanes  and  courts  also  contain  many 
smaller  houses,  not  on  so  grand  a  scale,  but,  like 
your  small  ancient  gentry,  sturdily  maintaining 
their  claims  to  equal  antiquity.  These  have  their 
gable  ends-to  the  street ;  great  bow  windows,  with 
diamond  panes  set  in  lead,  grotesque  carvings,  and 
low-arched  doorways."* 

In  Aldersgate,  Street  in  1661  (the  year  after  the 
Restoration),  died  Brian  Walton,  Bishop  of  Chester, 
a  laborious  and  learned  scholar,  who  edited  and  in 
1657  published  the  first  EngUsh  Polyglot  Bible,  in 
the  Hebrew,  Syriac,  Chaldee,  Samaritan,  Arabic, 
Ethiopic,  Persian,  Greek,  and  Vulgar  Latin  lan- 
guages. Before  the  war  Walton  had  been  rector  of 
St.  Martin  Orgars  and  St.  GileSrin-the-Fields.  He 
was  a  good  deal  hunted  about  during  the  Civil 
Wars  for  his  zeal  for  tithes,  yet  the  Preface  of  his 
Bible  contains   compliments  to  Cromwell,  which 


*  "It  is  evident/'  reniarlis  a  note  in  the  complete  edition  of  "  The 
Works  of  Washington  Irvirife,  New  Yorlc,  1857,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  308,  "  that 
the  author  has  included,  in  his  general  title  of  Little  Britain,  many  of 
those, little  lanes  and  courts  that  belong  immediately  to  Cloth  Fair." 


226 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Aldersgatei 


were  afterwards  altered  so  as  to  suit  Charles  II. 
"His  triumphant  return  to  his  see,  says  an  old 
writer,  zealously,  "was  a  day  not  to  be  forgotten  by 
all  the  true  sons  of  the  Church,  though  sneered  at  in 
private  by  the  most  rascally  faction  and  crop-eared 
whelps  of  those  parts,  who  did  their  endeavours  to 
make  it  a  May  game,  and  piece  of  foppery."  This 
learned  prelate,  who  studied  so  hard  during  all 
the  commotions  of  the  Civil  Wars,  was  buried  in 
St.  Paul's. 

The  "Albion,"  in  Aldersgate  Street,  has.  long  been 
famed  for  its  good  dinners.  "  Here,"  says  Timbs, 
"take  place  the  majority  of  the  banquets  of  the 
Corporation  of  London ;  the  sheriffs'  inauguration 
dinners,  as  well  as  those  of  civic  companies  and 
committees,  and  such  festivals,  public  and  private, 
as  are  usually  held  at  taverns  of  the  highest  class. 

"  The  farewell  dinners  given  by  the  East  India 
Company  to  the  Governors-General  of  India 
usually  take  place  at  the  'Albion.'  Here  likewise 
(after  dinner)  the  annual  trade  sales  of  the  principal 


London  publishers  take  place,'  revivifying  the  olden 
printing  and  book  glories  of  Aldersgate  and  Little 
Britain. 

"  The  cuisine  of  the  'Albion '  has  long  been  cele- 
brated for  its  rechercht  character.  Among  the  tra- 
ditions of  the  tavern,  it  is  told  that  a  dinner  was 
once  given  here  under  the  auspices  of  the  gourmand 
alderman  Sir  William  Curtis,  which  cost  the  party 
between  thirty  and  forty  pounds  apiece.  It  might 
as  well  have  cost  twice  as  much,  for  amongst  other 
acts  of  extravagance  they  dispatched  a  special 
messenger  to  Westphalia  to  choose  a  ham.  There 
is  likewise  told  a  bet  as  to  the  comparative  merits 
of  the  'Albion'  and  'York  House'  (Bath)  dinners, 
which  was  to  have  been  formally  decided  by  a 
dinner  of  unparalleled  munificence,  and  nearly 
equal  cost  at  each ;  but  it  became  a  drawn  bet,  the 
'Albion'  beating  in  the  first  course,  and  the  'York 

House'  in  the  second Lord  Southampton 

once  gave  a  dinnef  at  the  'Albion'  at  ten  guineas 
a  head." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
ALDERSGATE  STREET  {continued). 

Sir  Nicholas  ^con  — The  Fighting  Earl  of  Peterborough— A  Kna-vish  Duke  —  The  Cooks' Compaay  —  Noble  Street  — The  "  Halfmoon  Tavern," 
a  house  of  call  for  wits  — The  "  Bell  Inn" —The  City  Road  —  Founding  of  Bunhill  Fields  Chapel  — The  Grecian  Saloon  — The  "Old 
Milestone,"  City  Road  —  Northumberland  House  in  the  City— The  French  Protestant  Church  in  St.  Martin's-le-Grand. 


Close  to  Shaftesbury  House — ^which,  after  being  a 
tavern  and  a  lying-in  hospital,  became  in  1848  a 
general  dispensary,  and  latterly  was  divided  into 
shops — stood  Bacon  House,  the  residence  of  Sir 
Nicholas  Bacon  (Queen  Elizabeth's  Lord  Keeper), 
an  enemy  to  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  and  the  Jesuits, 
a  resolute,  honest,  unambitious  man,  and  the  father 
of  the  great  philosopher  and  Lord  Chancellor, 
Francis  Bacon.  The  Lord  Chancellor,  however, 
was  born  at  York  House  in  the  Strand,  of  which 
Buckingham  Street  marks  the  site.  A  popular 
writer  has  thus  graphically  described  Bacon's 
father : — "  Huge  in  person,  gouty,  asthmatic,  high 
in  flesh.  Sir  Nicholas  could  not  walk  from  Whitehall 
to  York  House  without  sitting  down  to  rest  and 
blowing  for  his  breath ;  and  this  weakness  in  his 
legs  and  chest  descended  to  both  his  sons  by 
Lady  Anne.  Queen  Elizabeth,  laughing,  used  to  say 
the  soul  of  her  lord  keeper  was  well  lodged — 
in  fat ;  but  the  lusty  old  knight,  who  had  mother-wit 
of  his  own,  could  have  been  as  brightly  sarcastic 
as  the  queen.  His  was  a  shrewd  saying :  '  Let  us 
take  time,  that  we  may  have  sooner  done?  When 
'  Elizabeth,  tripping  into  the  hall  at  Redgrave,  cried. 


'  My  lord,  what  a  little  house  you  have  gotten ! ' 
he  adroitly  answered,  '  Madam,  my  house  is  well ; 
but  you  have  made  me  too  great  for  my  house.' 
^Vhen  an  impudent  thief  named  Hogg  asked  mercy 
from  him  as  judge,  on  the  plea  of  kindred  bebveen 
the  Hoggs  and  Bacons,  he  replied,  '  Ah,  you  and 
I  cannot  be  of  kin  until  you  have  been  hanged  ! ' " 
Swift's  warlike  friend,  Mordaunt,  the  Earl  of  Peter- 
borough, also  lived  in  Aldersgate  Street.  Many  of 
this  energetic  general's  letters  to  Swift,  are  still 
extant,  as  well  as  Swift's  pleasantly  sarcastic  verses 
to  him.  In  the  War  of  Succession  the  Earl  took 
Barcelona,  and  drove  the  French  out  of  Spain. 
Swift  says  of  him  : — 

"  Mordanto  fills  the  trump  of  fame, 
The  Christian  worlds  his  deedSjjroclaim, 
And  prints  are  crowded  with  his  name. 

"  In  journeys  he  outrides  the  post, 
Sits  up  till  midnight  with  his  host, 
Talks  politics  and  gives  the  toast ; 

"  Knows  every  prince  on  Europe's  face, 
Flies  like  a  squib  from  place  to  place, 
And  travels  not,  but  runs  a  race. 
*  #  #  *  * 


Aldersgate.] 


THE  CITY  ROAD. 


227 


"  So  wonderful  his  expedition, 
When  you  have  not  the  least  suspicion 
He's  with  you  like  an  apparition. 

"  Shines  in  all  climates  like  a  star ; 
In  senates  bold,  and  fierce  in  war  ; 
A  land  commander,  and  a  tar, 

"Heroic  actions  early  bred  in, 
Ne'er  to  be  match'd  in  modern  reading, 
But  by  his  namesake^  Charles  of  Sweden." 

In  "  Remarks  on  the  Characters  of  the  Court  of 
Queen  Anne"  Peterborough  is  thus  described: — 
"  He  affects,  popularity,  and  loves  to  preach  in 
coffee-houses  and  public  places;  is  an  open  enemy 
to  revealed  religion;  brave  in  his  person;  has  a 
good  estate  ;  does  not  seem  expensive,  yet  always  in 
debt  and  very  popr.  A  well-shaped,  thin  man.  with 
a  very  brisk  look,  near  fifty  years  old."  "  This  cha- 
racter^' observes  Swift,  "  is  for  the  most  fart  true!" 

Oi  the  famous  Duke  of  Montagu,  who  also  lived 
in  Aldersgate  Street,  the  author  of  "Remarks  on 
the  Characters,"  says,  "  Since  the  queen's  accession 
to  the  throne,  he  has  been  created  a  duke ;  and  is 
near  sixty  years  old."  "  As  arrant  a  knave^'  is 
Swift's  addition,  "aj  atiy  in  his  time." 

"Opposite  to  St.  Botolph's  Church  stood  the 
Cooks'  Hall,  a  spacious  building,"  says  Aleph, 
"  which  escaped  the  Great  Fire,  but  was  consumed 
by  a  comparatively  insignificant  conflagration  in 
1 77 1,  when  the  worshipful  company  transferred 
their  business  to  the  Guildhall.  The  Cooks'  Com- 
pany is  a  fellowship  nearly  as  ancient  as  good 
living;  it  is  thirty-fifth  in  precedence,  was  incor- 
porated in  1480  by  that  luxurious  monarch  Edward 
IV.,  and  obtained  further  privileges  from  Queen 
Elizabeth." 

In  Noble  Street,  in  Shakespearian  times,  dwelt 
Mr.  Serjeant  Fleet,  the  Recorder  of  London,  and 
in  the  same  house  afterwards  resided  Robert  Tich- 
borne,  Lord  Mayor  in  1657.  Tichbome  signed  the 
death-warrant  of  Charles  I. ;  and  at  the  Restoration 
was  tried,  with  Hugh  Peters,  Harrison,  and  others, 
and  executed.  The  old  "  Castle  and  Falcon  "  inn 
stood  near  the  old  City  gate.  Nearly  opposite 
Lauderdale  House,  which  was  north  of  Shaftesbury 
House,  stood  in  1830  the  "Half-moon  Tavern," 
a  place  of  resort  for  the  wits  of  Charles  II.'s  time, 
Wycherley  and  Congreye  being  among  the  habituh. 
The  fireplaces  were  ornamented  with  curious  gro- 
tesque carvings  in  wood. 

Higher  up  than  Lauderdale  House,  two  doors 
only  from  Barbican,  once  stood 'the  "Bell"  inn, 
"  of  a  pretty  good  resort  for  wagons  with  meal." 
From  this  inn  John  Taylor,  the  poetical  waterman 
of  the  time  of  James  I.,  set  out  on  his  penniless 
pilgrimage  to  Scotland;     At  the  west  sidej  ft  little 


beyond  St.  Botolph's,  is  Trinity  Court,  so  called 
centuries  ago  from  a  brotherhood  of  the  Holy 
Trinity,  first  founded  in  1377,  as  a  fraternity  of 
St.  Fabian  and  St.  Sebastian,  licensed  by  Henry  VI., 
and  suppressed  by  Edward  VI.  The  hall  was  still 
standing  as  late  as  1790. 

The  City  Road,  an  indirect  tributary  oC  Aiders- 
gate  (by  Goswell  Road),  is  a  continuation  of  the 
New  Road,  and  runs  from  the  "Angel"  at  Islington 
to  Finsbury  Square.  It  was  opened  on  June  29th, 
1761,  when  Mr.  Dingly,  the  projector,  modestly 
refused  to  give  it  his  own  name.  In  April,  1777, 
John  Wesley  laid  the  first  stone  of  the  chapel 
opposite  Bunhill  Fields,  and  remarked,  as  he  laid 
it,  "Probably  this  will  be  seen  no  more  by  any 
human  eyfe,  but  will  remain  there  till  the  earth 
and  tke  works  thereof  are  burnt  up.'.' 

The  theatrical  traditions  of  this  neighbourhood 
deniand  a  few  words.  The  "  Eagle  "  Tavern,  now 
the  Grecian  Theatre,  City  Road,  when  under  the 
management  of  its  originator,  Mr.  Thomas  Rouse, 
was  highly  famed  for  its  two  comic  vocalists, 
Harry  Howell,  and  Robert  Glindon.  The  first- 
named  was,  perhaps,  the  best  buffo  singer  of  his 
day;  and  it  was  for  these  gardens  that  Glindon 
wrote  "  Biddy  the  Basket  Woman,"  "  The  Hterary 
Dustman,"  and  other  songs  of  world-wide  repute, 
singing  them  himself  in  the  evening,  his  daytime 
being  fully  occupied  in  painting,  with  the  late  Mr, 
Danson,  that  marvel  of  panoramas  "  London  by 
Day  and  Night,"  so  many  years  the  main  attrac- 
tion at  the  Coloseum,  Regent's  Park.  After  his 
voice  failed  him,  he  was  enlisted  in  the  standing 
company  at  the  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  assisting  in 
the  scene-painting  and  property  department,  and 
doing  small  parts  in  the  pantomime  openings.  It 
was  at  the  Grecian  Saloon  that  Frederick  Robson 
also  made  his  mark  with  the  London  playgoers, 
in  the  characters  of  "  Jacob  Earwig,"  in  Boots  at  the 
Swan,  and  "Wormwood"  in  The  Lottery  Ticket. 
William  Farren,  that  excelleiit  actor,  had  seen  and 
admired  Robson's  wonderful  abilities,  and  wished 
to  secure  his  services  for  the  Olympic ;  but  fearing 
the  announcement  "from  the  Grecian  Saloon" 
might  act  detrimentally  with  pubhc  opinion,  he  got 
Robson  an  engagement  in  Ireland,  and  then,  an- 
nouncing him  "  from  the  Theatre  Royal  Dublin," 
launched  him  on  his  brilliant  career  at  the  litfle 
theatre  in  Wych  Street. 

The  "  Old  Milestone,"  City  Road,  opposite  Gos- 
well Street  Road,  was,  in  the  early  part  of  the  pre- 
sent century,  much  patronised  by  Cockney  tourists, 
on  account  of  its  pretty  tea-gardens,  and  like  White 
Conduit  House  and  Bagnigge  Wells,  it  attracted  im- 
mensecrowds  ©f  Sunday  ramblers.  Concerts  were  ec- 


228 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Aldersgate. 


casionally  given  here,  particularly  at  holiday  times, 
but  its  modern  reputation  was  chiefly  owing  to  its 
Judge  and  Jury  Society,  and  the  forensic  ability  of 
its  proprietor,  Mr.  Benjamin  Foster,  who  was  after- 
wards so  well-known  and  respected  by- literary  men 


as  we  have  shown,  over  the  Gate  itself,  as  the 
illustrious  Cave  did  at  St.  John's  Gate,  Clerken- 
well.  It  afterwards,  in  Strype's  time,  was  a  tavern, 
the  usual  end  of  all  celebrated  London  buildings. 
Adjoining  what  is  at  present  the  Money  Order 


PRINCE   RUPERT'S   HOUSE,    IN   THE    BARBICAN. 


as  mine  host  of  the  "  Saint  John's  Gate,"  or  Gate 
House,  Clerkenwell. 

Very  near  Aldersgate  stood  Northumberland 
House,  where  the  fiery  Hotspur,  who  owes  all  the 
emblazonment  on  his  escutcheon  to  Shakespeare, 
once  dwelt.  Henry  IV.  gave  the  house  to  Queen 
Jane,  his  wife,  and  it  was  then  called  her  Wardrobe. 
In  Stow's  time  it  was  the  house  of  a  printer — ^not, 
however,  John  Day,  the  celebrated  printer  of  Eliza- 
beth's time,  as  has  been  suggested,  for  he  lived, 


Office  in  St.  Martin's-le-Grand  is  the  French  Pro- 
testant Church,  opened  in  1842,  when  St.  Mary's 
Chapel,  in  Threadneedle  Street,  was  taken  down. 
On  July  24,  1850,  the  tercentenary  of  the  Royal 
Charter  to  Foreign  Protestants  granted  by  Edward 
VI.  was  commemorated  by  special  services  both 
at  the  Dutch  Church,  Austin  Friars,  and  at  St. 
Martin's-le-Grand,  and  in  the  evening  the  members 
of  the  consistories  of  both  churches  dined  together, 
and  drarik  to  the  memory  of  the  pious  Edward  VI. 


CrippUgate.] 


ST.   GILES'S,   CRIPPLEGATE. 


229 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 
CRIPPLEGATE. 

Miracles  performed  by  Edmund  the  Martyr  after  Death— Cripplegate— The  Church  of  St.  Giles— The  Tomb  of  John  Speed— The  Legend  of 
Constance  Whitney— Sir  Martin  Frobisher— Milton's  Grave  Outraged— The  Author  of  "The  Book  of  Martyrs:"  his  Fortunate  Escape 
from  Bishop  Gardiner— St.  Alphage,  London  Wall— An  Old  State  Funeral— The  Barber-Surgeons'  Hall :  its  Famous  Picture  of  Henry  VIII. 
—Holbein's  Death— Treasures  in  Barber-Surgeons'  Hall:  its  Plate  Stolen  and  Recovered— Another  kind  of  Recovery  there —Lambe,  the 
Benevolent  Clothworker— The  Perambulation  of  Cripplegate  Parish  in  Olden  Time— Basinghall  Street  —  St.  Michael's  Bassishaw  — 
William  Lee,  the  Inventor  of  the  Stocking-loom -Minor  City  Companies  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Basinghall  Street— The  Bankruptcy 
Court— Whitecross  Street  and  its  Prison— The  Dissenters'  Library  in  Whitecross  Street. 


Stow,  quoting  a  history  of  Edmund  the  Martyr, 
King  of  the  East  Angles,  by  Abbo  Floriacensis, 
says  that  in  loio,  when  the  Danes  approached 
Bury  St.  Edmunds,    Bishop   Alwyn  removed  the 


rooms  over  the  gate  were  set  apart  for  the  City 
Water  BaiUfF. 

The  church  of  St.  Giles's,   Cripplegate,  is  the 
successor  of  one  founded  some  twenty-four  years 


Jf-X,y-'      ,,      ,, 


CRIPPLEGATE  AND  NEIGHBOURHOOD.      (From  Aggas's  Map.) 


body  of  the  martyred  king  to  St.  Gregory's  Church, 
near  St.  Paul's ;  and  as  it  passed  through  Cripple- 
gate, such  was  the  blessed  influence  it  diffused, 
that  many  lame  persons  rose  upright,  and  began  to 
praise  God  for  their  miraculous  cure.  The  postern 
afterwards  became  a  prison,  like  the  Compter,  for 
debtors  and  common  trespassers.  The  gate  was 
rebuilt,  says  Fabian,  by  the  Brewers  of  London,  in 
1244,  and  again  in  1491,  at  the  cost  of  400  marks, 
money  left  by  Edmund  Shaw,  goldsmith  and  ex- 
mayor.  It  was  again  repaired  and  beautified,  and 
a  foot-postem  made,  in  the  Tcth  Charles  TI.     The 


after  the  Conquest.  It  suffered  greatly  by  fire  in 
1545  (Henry  VIII.)  Matilda,  queen  of  Henry  I.; 
had  founded  a  brotherhood  there,  dedicated  to 
St.  Mary  and  St.  Giles.  The  church  was  repaired, 
andj)erhaps  partially  rebuilt,  after  the  fire  of  1545. 
"Since  that  event,"  says  Mr.  Godwin,  "it  has 
undergone  miscalled  adornments,  but  has  not  been 
materially  changed."  The  tower  was  raised  fifteen 
feet  in  1682.  St.  Giles's  had  a  peal  of  twelve  bells, 
besides  one  in  the  turret.  It  also  boasts  one  of 
the  sets  of  chimes  in  London.  Those  of  St.  Giles 
were,  it  is  said,  constructed  by  a  poor  working  man. 


230 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Cripplegate, 


In  the  north  aisle  of  this  interesting  and  his- 
torical church  lies  a  great  benefactor  to  London 
antiquaries,  the  learned  and  laborious  John  Speed, 
the  great  topographical  writer,  who  died  1629. 
He  was  a  wise  tailor  whom  Sir  Fulke  Greville 
patronised,  and  who  was  assisted  in  his  labours  by 
Cotton  and  Spelman.  He  had  in  his  time  twelve 
sons  and  six  daughters.  His  marble  monument  is 
adorned  with  an  effigy  of  Speed  (once  gilt  and 
painted),  holding  in  one  hand  a  book,  and  in  the 
other  a  skull.  The  long  eulogistic  Latin  in- 
scription describes  him  as  "  Civis  Londinensis 
Mercatorum  Scissorum  Fratris."  It  is  a  singular  fact 
that  two  of  the  great  London  antiquaries  should 
have  been  tail®rs,  yet  the  sartor's  is  undoubtedly 
a  contemplative  trade,  and  we  owe  both  worthies 
much  gratitude  for  laboriously  stitching  together 
such  a  vast  patchwork  of  interesting  facts. 

Considering  that  Foxe,  the  martyrologist  (buried, 
it  is  believed,  on  the  south  side  of  the  chancel) 
was  sheltered  by  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  Shakespeare's 
traditional  persecutor — 

"  At  home  a  poor  scarecrow,  in  London  an  ass," 

it  is  singular  to  find  near  the  centre  of  the  north 
aisle  of  St.  Giles's  a  monument  to  Constance  Whit- 
ney, eldest  daughter  of  Sir  Robert  Whitney,  and 
granddaughter  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  who  died  at 
the  age  of  seventeen,  excelUng  "  in  all  noble  qualities 
becoming  a  virgin  of  so  sweet  proportion  of  beauty 
and  harmonie  of  parts."  From  this  maiden's  grave 
a  lying  tradition  has  sprung  like  a  fungus. 

The  striking-looking  monument  represents  a  fe- 
male in  a  shroud  rising  from  a  coffin.  According 
to  tradition  it  commemorates  the  story  of  a  lady 
who,  after  having  been  buried  while  in  a  trance, 
was  not  only  restored  to  life,  but  subsequently 
became  the  mother  of  several  children,  her  re- 
suscitation, it  is  said,  having  been  brought  about 
by  the  cupidity  of  a  sexton,  which  induced  him  to 
open  the  coffin,  in  order  to  obtain  possession  of  a 
valuable  ring  on  her  finger.  This  story,  however,  is 
entirely  fabulous. 

A  small  white  marble  tablet  within  the  com- 
munion-rails also  records  another  Lucy.  The  in- 
scription is — 

"  Here  lies  Margaret  Lucy,  the  second  daughter  of  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy,  of  Charlcott  in  the  county  of  Warwicke, 
Knight  (the  third  by  imediate  discent  of  the  name  of  Thomas), 
by  Alice,  sole  daughter  and  heire  of  Thomas  Spenser,  of 
Clarenden,  in  the  same  county,  Esq. ,  arid  Custos  Brevium  of 
the  Courte  of  Comon  Pleas  at  Westminster,  who  departed 
this  life  the  iSth  day  of  November,  1634,  and  aboute  the  19th 
year  of  her  age.  For  discretion  and  sweetnesse  of  con- 
versation not  many  excelled,  and  for  pietie  and  patience  in, 
her  sicknesse  and  death,  few  equalled  her;  which  is  the 
comforte   of  her  nearest  friendes,  to  every  of  whom  shee 


was  very  dear,  but  especiallie  to  her  old  grandmother,  the 
Lady  Constance  Lucy,  under  whose  government  shee  died, 
who,  having  long  exspected  every  day  to  have  gone  before  her, 
doth  now  trust,  by  faith  and  hope  in  the  precious  bloode  of 
Christ  Jesus,  shortly  to  follow  after,  and  be  partaker,  together 
with  her  and  others,  of  the  unspeakable  and  etemell  joyes  in 
•His  blessed  kingdome  ;  to  whom  be  all  honour,  laude,  and 
praise,  now  and  ever.     Amen." 

In  this  church,  too,  after  many  a  j'^oyage  and 
many  a  battle,  rests  that  old  Elizabethan  warripr 
and  explorer.  Sir  Martin  Frobisher,  who  was  brought 
here  in  February,  1594-5,  after  receiving  his  death 
shot  at  Brest.  His  northern  discoveries  while  in 
search  of  a  north-west  passage  to  China,  in  a  mere 
fishing-boat  of  twenty-five  tons,  his  West  Indian 
cruise  with  Drake,  and  his  noble  courage  against 
the  Spanish  Armada,  fully  entitle  Frobisher  to  rank 
as  one  of  the  earliest  of  our  naval  heroes. 

Above  all,  Milton  is  buried  here.  A  sacrilegious 
desecration  of  his  remains,  we  regret  to  record, 
took  place  in  1790.  The  object  of  the  search  for 
the  sacred  body  was  reasonable,  the  manner  of  the 
search  disgraceful.  The  church  being  under  repair, 
and  ;£'i,35o  being  spent  upon  it,  the  vestry  clerk 
and  churchwardens  had  agreed; — as  a  monument  to 
Milton  was  contemplated  at  St.  Giles's,  and  the 
exact  spot  of  the  poet's  interment  only  traditionally 
known — to  dig  up  the  coffin  whilst  the  repairs  were 
still  going  on.  The  difficulty  was  this  :  the  parish 
tradition  had  always  been  that  Milton  was  buried 
in  the  chancel,  under  the  clerk's  desk,  where  after- 
wards the  common  councilmen's  pew  stood,  in  the 
same  grave  with  his  father,  the  scrivener,  of  Bread 
Street.  He  died  fourteen  years  after  the  "  blessed 
Restoration,"  of  consumption,  say  the  parish  books, 
not  gout,  at  his  house  in  Bunhill  Fields.  Aubrey, 
in  1 68 1,  says,  "  The  stone  isnow  removed,  for  about 
two  years  since  the  two  steps  to  the  communion- 
table were  raised."  During  the  repairs  of  1682  the 
pulpit  was  removed  from  the  second  pillar  on  the 
north  side  to  the  south  side  of  the  old  chancel, 
which  was  then  covered  with  pews.  The  parish 
clerks  and  sextons,  forgetting  this  change,  used  to 
show  a  grave  on  the  south  side  as  Milton's,  and 
Mr.  Baskerville,  to  show  his  reverence  for  Milton, 
was  buried  in  this  wrong  spot. 

The  right  spot  was  at  last  remembered,  the  ground 
was  searched,  and  Milton's  leaden  coffin  discovered, 
directly  over  the  wooden  one  of  his  father.  The 
coffin,  which  was  old,  and  bore  no  inscription,  was 
five  feet  ten  inches  in  length.  The  following  ghoulish 
and  disgraceful  scene,  described  by  P.  Neve,  in  his 
"  Narrative  of  the  Disinterment  of  Milton's  Coffin," 
1790,  then  took  place.  The  disinterment  ha,d  been 
agreed  upon  after  a  merry  meeting  at  the  house  of 
Mr.  Fountain,  overseer,  in  Beech  Lane,  the  night 


Cripplegate.  ] 


THE  AUTHOR  OF  "THE  BOOK  OF  MARTYRS." 


231 


before,  Mr.  Cole,  another  overseer,  and  the  jour- 
neyman of  Mr,  Ascough,  the  parish  clerk,  who  was 
a  cofRn-maker,  assisting. 

"  Holmes,  the  journeyman,  having  fetched  a 
mallet  and  a  chisel,  and  cut  open  the  top  of  the 
coffin,  slantwise  from  the  head,  as  low  as  the  breast, 
so  that,  the  top  being  doubled  backward,  they 
could  see  the  corpse,  he  cut  it  open  also  at  the 
foot.  Upon  first  view  of  the  body,  it  appeared  per- 
fect, and  completely  enveloped  in  the  shroud,  which 
was  of  many  folds,  the  ribs  standing  up  regularly. 
When  they  disturbed  the  shroud  the  ribs  fell. 
Mr.  Fountain  confessed  that  he  pulled  hard  at  the 
teeth,  which  resisted,  until  some  one  hit  them  a 
knock  with  a  stone,  when  they  easily  came  out.' 
There  were  but  five  in  the  upper  jaw,  which  were 
all  perfectly  sound  and  white,  and  all  taken  by  Mr. 
Fountain.  He  gave  one  of  them  to  Mr.  Laming. 
Mr.  Laming  also  took  one  from  the  lower  jaw ;  and 
Mr.  Taylor  took  two  from  it.  Mr.  Laming  said 
that  he  had  at  one  time  a  mind  to  bring  away  the 
whole  under-jaw  with  the  teeth  in  it ;  he  had  it  in 
his  hand,  but  tossed  it  back  again.  Also,  that  he 
lifted  up  the  head,  and  saw  a  great  quantity  of  hair, 
which  lay  strait  and  even,  behind  the  head,  and  in 
the  state  of  hair  which  had  been  combed  and  tied 
together  before  interment;  but  it  was  wet,  the 
coffin  having  considerable  corroded  holes,  both  at 
the  head  and  foot,  and  a  great  part  of  the  water 
with  which  it  had  been  washed  on  the  Tuesday 
afternoon  having  run  into  it. 

"  Elizabeth  Grant,  the  gravedigger,  and  who  is 
servant  to  Mrs.  Hoppy,  therefore  now  took  posses- 
sion of  the  coffin  ;  and,  as  its  situation  under  the 
common  coimcilmen's  pew  would  not  admit  of 
its  being  seen  without  the  help  of  a  candle,  [she 
kept  a  tinder-box  in  the  excavation,  and,  when  any 
persons  came,  struck  a  light,  and  conducted  them 
under  the  pew ;  where,  by  reversing  the  part  of  the 
lid  which  had  been  cut,  she  exhibited  the  body,  at 
first  for  sixpence  and  afterwards  for  threepence 
and  twopence  each  person.  The  workmen  in 
the  church  kept  the  doors  locked  to  all  those 
who  would  not  pay  the  price  of  a  pot  of  beer  for 
entrance,  and  many,  to  avoid  that  payment,  got  in 
at  a  window  at  the  west  end  of  the  church,  near  to 
Mr.  Ayscough's  counting-house." 

The  hair  torn  off  the  poet's  forehead  resembled 
the  short  locks  seen  in  Faithorne's  quarto  print  of 
Milton  takeip  in  1670,  four  years  only  before  the 
poet's  death.  In  Charles  II.'s  time,  coffin-plates 
were  not  generally  used,  and  it  was  only  usual  to 
paint  the  name,  &c.,  on  the  outer  wooden  case. 
The  rascals  altogether  stole  a  rib-bone,  ten  teeth, 
and  several  handfuls  of  hair. 


Upon  this  sacrilege  Cowper,  horrified,  wrote 
these  lines : — 

"  111  fare  the  hands  that  heaved  the  ston-js 
Where  Milton's  ashes  lay, 
That  trembled  not  to  grasp  his  bones, 
And  steal  his  dust  away. 

"  O,  ill-requited  bard  !  neglect 
Thy  living  worth  repaid, 
And  blind  idolatrous  respect 
As  much  affronts  the  dead  ! " 

In  all  fairness,  however,  it  must  be  added  that 
grave  doubts  have  been  raised  as  to  whether  the 
corpse  found  was  really  that  of  the  poet.  Imme- 
diately on  the  publication  of  Mr.  Neve's  Narrative, 
it  was  ably  answered  in  the  Sf.  James's  Chronicle, 
in  "Nine  Reasons  why  it  is  improbable  that  the 
coffin  lately  dug  up  in  the  Parish  Church  of  St. 
Giles,  Cripplegate,  should  contain  the  reliques  of 
Milton."  Mr.  Neve,  says  Todd,  one  of  Milton's 
biographers,  added  a  postscript  to  his  Narrative, 
but  all  his  labour  appears  to  have  been  employed 
on  an  imaginary  cause.  The  late  Mr.  Steevens, 
who  particularly  lamented  the  indignity  which  the 
nominal  ashes  of  the  poet  sustained,  has  intimated 
in  his  manuscript  remarks  on  this  Narrative  and 
Postcript  that  the  disinterred  corpse  was  supposed 
to  be  that  of  a  female,  and  that  the  minutest 
examination  of  the  fragments  could  not  disprove,  if 
it  did  not  confirm,  the  supposition. 

In  1793,  Samuel  Whitbread,  Sheridan's  friend, 
erected  a  bust  to  Milton  in  this  church  with  this 
inscription : — 

"John  Milton, 
.Author  of  '  Paradise  Lost,' 
Born  Dec,  1608, 
Died  Nov.,  1674. 


His  father,  John  Milton,  died  March,  1646. 
They  were  both  interred  in  this  church. 


Samuel  Whitbread  posuit,  1793." 

In  this  most  interesting  old  church  were  buned 
many  illustrious  persons,  recorded  by  Stow. 
Amongst  these  we  may  mention  Robert  Glover,  a 
celebrated  Elizabethan  herald,  who  assisted  Cam- 
den with  the  pedigrees  of  his  famous  "  Britannia." 
John  Foxe,  the  pious  and  laborious  author  of 
that  manual  of  ^e  Protestantism,  "  The  Book  of 
Martyrs,"  was  ^Iso  interred  here,  as  well  as  that 
good  old  herbalist  and  physician  of  Elizabeth's 
time.  Dr.  William  Bulleyn,  author  of  the  "  Govern- 
ment of  Health"  (1558),  and  a  "  Book  of  Simples," 
works  full  of  old  wives'  remedies  and  fantastic 
beliefs.  Foxe  the  martyrdlogist  was  a  Lincolnshire 
man,  born  in  1517,  the  year.  Luther  first  openly 
opposed  Romish  errors.      At  Oxford  he  became 


232 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Cripplegate, 


famous  for  writing  comedies  in  especially  elegant 
Latin.  For  his  religious  opinions  he  was  expelled 
Magdalen  College,  of  which  he  was  a  Fellow,  and, 
forsaken  by  his  friends,  he  was  reduced  to  great 
distress,  till  he  was  taken  as  family  tutor  by  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy,  of  Warwickshire,  the  Shakesperian 
traditional  persecutor.  With  this  worthy  knight  he 
remained  till  his  children  arrived  at  mature  years, 
and  had  no  longer  need  of  a  tutor.  Now  com- 
menced a  period  of  want  and  despair,  which  closed 
with  what  his  son  calls,  in  the  Life  of  his  father 
"  a  marvellous  accident  and  great  example  of  God's 
mercy." 

Foxe  was  sitting  one  day  in  St.  Paul's  Church, 
almost  spent  with  long  fasting,  his  countenance  wan 
and  pale,  and  his  eyes  hollow,  when  there  came  to 
him  a  person  whom  he  never  remembered  to  have 
seen  before,  who,  sitting  down  by  him,  accosted 
him  very  familiarly,  and  put  into  his  hands  an  un- 
told sum  of  money,  bidding  him  to  be  of  good 
cheer,  to  be  careful  of  himself,  and  to  use  all  means 
to  prolong  his  life,  for  that  in  a  few  days  new  hopes 
were  at  hand,  and  new  means  of  subsistence. 
Foxe  tried  all  methods  to  find  out  the  person  by 
whom  he  was  thus  so  seasonably  relieved,  but  in 
vain. 

The  prediction  was  fulfilled,  for  within  three  days 
the  starving  student  was  taken  by  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond  as  tutor  to  her  nephews  and  niece,  the 
children  of  the  poet  Earl  of  Surrey.  At  the  escape 
of  Surrey's  father,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  from  prison, 
on  the  death  of  that  swollen  tyrant,  Henry  VIIL, 
the  duke  took  Foxe  under  his  patronage,  but  Bishop 
Gardiner's  determination  to  seize  him  compelled 
Foxe  to  take  refuge  in  Switzerland.  On  the  acces- 
sion of  EHzabeth,  Foxe  returned  to  England,  and 
was  made  Prebend  of  Salisbury.  Although  be- 
friended by  Sir  Francis  Drake,  Bishop  Grindal,  and 
Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  Foxe  never  rose  high  in  the 
church,  having  Genevese  scruples  about  ecclesiasti- 
cal vestments,  which  he  was  too  honest  to  swallow. 
Queen  Elizabeth  used  to  call  the  old  martyrologist 
"Father,"  but  she  would  not  spare,  at  his  inter- 
cession, two  Anabaptists  condemned  to  the  flames. 
Latterly  Foxe  denounced  the  extreme  Puritans  as 
"new  monks,"  who  desired  to  bring  all  things 
contrary  to  their  own  discipline  and  consciences 
"into  Je^vish  bondage."  This  worthy  man  died 
in  1587,  aged  seventy  years,  and  was  buried  in  St. 
Giles's  Church. 

The  parish  register  of  St.  Giles's  records  the 
marriage  of  Oliver  Cromwell  and  Elizabeth  Bour- 
chier,  on  the  22nd  of  August,  1620.  The  future 
Protector  was  then  in  his  twenty-first  year. » 

In  1803  a  fine  battlemented  piece  of  the  London 


wall  of  Edward  IV.'s  time,  tufted  with  wild  plants, 
that  stood  in  the  churchyard  of  St.  Giles's,  Cripple- 
gate,  was  taken  down,  having  become  dangerous. 
It  joined  on  to  the  fine  base  of  the  round  bastion 
tower  still  existing  at  the  south-west  corner,  and  i§ 
the  most  perfect  portion  left. 

In  181 2  "Rainy  Day"  Smith  nientions  seeing 
the  workmen  remove  the  wainscoting  of  the  north 
porch  of  St.  Giles's,  when  they  discovered  an  old 
wainscot  of  Henry  IV.  or  Henry  V.,  its  perforated 
arches  beautifully  carved,  and  the  vermilion  with 
which  it  was  painted  bright  as  when  first  put  on. 

There  is  little  to  be  said  about  the  Norman 
church  of  St.  Alphage,  London  Wall.  It  was 
■built,  remarks  Cunnin^am,  "in  1777  (it  is  said 
by  Dance),  on  the  site  of  the  old  Hospital  or 
Priory  of  St.  Mary  the  Virgin,  founded,  for  the 
sustentation  of  one  hundred  blind  men  in  153.2, 
by  WiUiam  Elsing,  mercer,  and  of  which  Spittle, 
the  founder,  was  the  first  prior.  The  living  is  a 
rectory,  and  was  originally  in  the  gift  of  the  Abbot 
of  St.  Martin's-le-Grand.  It  afterwards  came  to 
the  Abbot  and  Convent  of  Westminster,  and  was 
iiltimately  conferred  by  Mary  I.  on  the  Bishop  of 
London  and  his  successors  for  ever."  The  old 
hospital  had  become  a  dwelling-house  in  Henry 
VIII.'s  reign,  and  was  inhabited  by  Sir  John 
Williams,  Master  of  the  King's  Jewels.  In  1541  it 
was  destroyed  by  fire,  and  many  of  the  jewels  were 
burnt,  and  more  stolen. 

The  first  Barber-Surgeons'  Hall,  in  Monkwell 
Street,  is  said  to  have  been  of  the  date  of  Ed- 
ward IV.  The  second  hall  was  built  by  Inigo  Jones, 
1636,  and  was  repaired  by  that  distinguished 
amateur  in  architecture,  the  Earl  of  Burhngton. 
The  theatre,  one  of  the  finest  of  Inigo's  works,  in 
the  opinion  of  Horace  Walpole,  was  pulled  down 
at  the  latter  ■  end  of  the  last  century,  and 
sold  for  the  value  of  the  materials.  Hatton  de- 
scribes it  temptingly  as  a  theatre  fitted  with-  "  four 
degrees  of  cedar  seats,"  rising  one  above  another, 
and  adorned  with  the  figures  of  the  seven  Liberal 
Sciences,  the  twelve  Signs  of  the  Zodiac,  and  a  bust 
of  King  Charles  I.  The  roof  was  an  elliptical 
cupola.  The  quaint  old  wooden  doorway,  with  the 
deep  arched  roof,  the  grotesque  goggling  head, 
the  monsters,  stiff  foliage,  and  heraldry,  has  been 
removed,  to  humour  a  stuck-up  modem  set  of 
chambers,  and  the  three  razors  quartered  on  the 
Barber-Surgeons'  arms,  and  the  motto,  "  Trust  in 
God,"  are  gone.  The  hall,  now  displaced  by  ware- 
houses, stood  on  a  bastion  of  the  old  Roman 
wall ;  and  the  architect  had  ingeniously  turned  it 
to  use,  in  the  erection  of  the  west  end  of  the  room. 

Before  the  late   changes  the  Barber- Surgeons' 


Cripplegate.] 


THE  BARBER-SURGEONS'  PICTURE  OP  HENRY  VIlI. 


233 


Hall  used  to  be  dirty  and  neglected.  The  inner 
hall,  now  pulled  down,  was  some  sixty  feet  by 
thirty,  and  was  lighted  by  an  octagonal  lantern, 
enriched  with  fruit  and  flowers  delicately  carved  in 
wood.  Many  of  the  pictures  are  fine,  especially 
■  the,  great  Holbein's,  "The  Presentation  of  the 
Charter  by  Henry  VIII."  This  picture  contains, 
among  eighteen  other  portraits,  that  of  Sir  William 
Butts,  the  good-natured  physician  who  saved 
Cranmer  from  disgrace,  and  that  of  Dr.  John 
Chamber,  the  doctor  who  attended  Queen  Anne 
Boleyn  in  her  confinement  with  Elizabeth. 

"To  thisyear"  (1541),  says  Mr.  Wornum,  "also 
possibly  belongs  the  Barber-Surgeons'  picture  of 
Henry  graliting  a  charter  to  the  corporation.  The 
Barbers  and  Surgeons  of  London,  originally  con- 
stituting one  company,  had  been  separated,  but 
were  again,  in  the  thirty-second  of  Henry  VIII., 
combined  into  a  single  society,  and  it  was  the 
ceremony  of  presenting  them  with  a  new  charter 
which  is  commemorated  by  Holbein's  picture,  now 
in  their  hall  in  Monkwell  Street.  In  1745  they 
were  again  separated,  and  the  Surgeons  con- 
stituted a  distinct  company,  and  had  a  hall  in  the 
Old  Bailey.  The  date  of  this  picture  is  not  known, 
but.it  was  necessarily  in  or  after  1541,  and  as  Hol- 
bein's life  did  not  extend  much  beyond  this  time, 
there  is  some  probability  in  the  report  alluded  to 
by  Van  Mander,  namely,  that  the  painter  died 
without  completing  the  picture.  Besides  the  king's 
— a  seated  full-length,  crowned,  and  with  the  sword 
of  state  in  his  right  hand — it  contains  also  portraits 
of  eighteen  members  of  the  guild,  three  kneeUng 
on  the  right  hand  of  the  king,  and  fifteen  on  the 
other,  and  among  them  are  conspicuous  our  friends 
Butts  and  Chamber  on  the  right.  The  head  of  the 
latter  is  efiective  and  good,  though  the  portraits 
generally  are  unsatisfactory ;  but  Warden  Aylef  s, 
the  second  on  the  left,  is  especially  good.  The 
rest  are  indifferent,  either  owing  to  the  fact  of  their 
having  been  some  of  them  perhaps  entirely  re- 
painted, or  possibly  having  never  had  a  touch  of 
Holbein's  in,  them. 

"  There  is  a  large  engraving  of  this  picture  by 
B.  Baron,  but  reversed.  The  names  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  guild,  are  written  in  a  most  offensive 
manner  over  the  face  of  the  picture,  which  is  a 
piece  of  barbarism  that  belongs,  I  imagine,  to  a 
period  long  subsequent  to  the  time  of  Holbein. 
These  .names  are  J.  Alsop,  W.  Butts,  J.  Chamber, 
T.  Vycary  (the  master  of  the  guild,  who  is  receiving 
the  charter  from  the  left  hand  of  the  king),  T.  Aylef, 
N.  Symson,  E.  Harman,  J.  Monforde,  J.  Pen,  M. 
Alcoke,  R.  Fereis,  X.  Samon,  and  W.  Tylly ;  five 
of  the  second  row  are  without  names. 


"The  king  is  placed  very  stifHy,  aM  the  face, 
much  repainted,  is  that  we  are  familiar  with  in  the 
many  ordinary  half-lengths  of  the  king,  representing 
him  in  the  last  years  of  his  life.  The  composition 
is  anything  but  graceful,  and  there  is  not  an  entire 
hand  in  the  whole  piece ;  the  king's  hands  are 
good,  though  slight  and  sketchy.  The  principle  of 
the  composition  is  somewhat  Egyptian,  for  the 
king  is  made  about  twice  the  size  of  the  other 
figures,  though  they  are  in  front  of  him. 

"  We  have  an  interesting  notice  of  this  picture  in 
Pepys'  'Diary,'  where,  against  the  date  August  29, 
1668,  that  is,  two  years  after  the  Great  Fire,  he 
notes :  '  At  noon  comes,  by  appointment,  Harris 
to  dine  with  me ;  and  after  dinner  he  and  I  to 
Chirurgeons'  Hall,  where  they  are  building  it  new, 
very  fine ;  and  there  to  see  their  theatre,  which 
stood  all  the  fire,  and,  which  was  oUr  business,  their 
great  picture  of  Holbein's,  thinking  to  have  bought 
it,  by  the  help  of  Mr.  Pierce,  for  a  little  money. 
I  did  think  to  give  ^£'200  for  it,  it  being  said  to  be 
worth  ;^i,ooo ;  but  it  is  so  spoiled  that  I  have  no 
mind  to  it,  and  is  not  a  pleasant  though  a  .good 
picture.' 

"Pepys  is  very  candid  about  his  motive  for 
buying  the  picture ;  because  it  was  said  to  be 
worth  a  thousand  pounds  he  was  willing  to  give 
two  hundred  for  it,  not  that  he  wanted  the  picture 
for  its  own  sake ;  however,  he  did  not  like  it,  and 
he  declined  the  speculation.  When  we  consider 
the  worth  of  money  at  that  time,  the  estimated 
value  seems  an  enormous  one.  Pepys'  own  price 
was  not  an  inconsiderable  sum.  The  picture  is  on 
oak,  on  vertical  boards,  about  six  feet  high  by 
ten  feet  three  inches  in  width.  The  College  of 
Surgeons  possesses  an  old,  but  smaller,  indifferent 
copy  of  it,  on  paper  attached  to  canvas.  J.  Alsop, 
on  the  extreme  right,  is  omitted ;  and  in  the  place 
of  a  tablet  with  a  Latin  inscription,  which  disfigures 
the  Barber-Surgeons'  picture,  is  a  window  showing 
the  old  tower  of  St.  Bride's,  indicating,  accord- 
ingly, the  palace  of  Bridewell  as  the  place  of  the 
ceremony. 

"  There  can  be  no  question  of  the  genuineness 
of  this  picture  in  its  foundations',  but  in  its  present 
state  it  is  not  remarkable  that  it  should  cause  dis- 
cussions. I  am  disposed  to  believe  that  Holbein 
never  did  finish  the  picture,  and  from  the  great 
inferiority  of  the  second  series  of  heads  on  the  left 
hand  of  the  king  I  think  that  these  must  have 
been  added  later.  There  is  no  trace  of  Holbein's 
hand  in  them ;  and  the  fact  of  five  of  them  being 
without  names  is  also  suggestive  of  the  assumption 
that  these  five  were  not  even  members  of  the  guild 
when  the  picture  was  painted.     Two  of  this  back- 


234 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Cripplegate. 


ground  group  are  named  X.  Samson  and  W.  TiUey ; 
these,  therefore,  may  have  been  Holbein's  contem- 
poraries, though  not  introduced  by  him  into  the 
picture.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  king 
sat  to  Holbein  for  this  portrait ;  it  is  the  stock 
portrait  of  the  time.  The  king  is  not  looking  at  the 
master,  Vycary,  to  whom  he  is  handing  the  charter, 
but  straight  before  him.  The  composition  is  a 
mere  portrait  piece, 
got  up  for  the  sake 
of  the  portraits.  In 
the  whole  group  of 
nineteen  only  five 
besides  the  king  wear 
their  beards — Aylef, 
Symson,  Harman, 
Alcoke,  and  Fereis. 
Monforde's,  the  fifth 
from  the  king,  is  a 
very  expressive  face, 
considerably  re- 
painted, but  full  of 
character.  The  three 
on  the  right — Cham- 
ber, Butts,  and  Alsop 
— are  perhaps  so 
separately  placed  as 
physicians  t,o  the 
king." 

There  is  a  letter 
of  James  I.  to  the 
Barber-Surgeons  still 
in  their  possession. 
It  is  written  from 
Newmarket,  and 
dated  1617,  request- 
ing the  loan  of  this 
picture,  in  order  that 
it  should  be  copied. 
In  Mr.  Wornum's 
opinion  this  copy  is  the  one  still  to  be  seen  at 
the  College  of  Surgeons  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields. 
It  was  formerly  in  the  possession  of  Desenfans, 
and  at  his  sale  in  1786  was  purchased  by  the 
Surgeons'  Company  for  five  guineas.  In  the  Lin- 
coln's Inn  picture  there  is  a  window  at  the  back 
instead  of  the  tablet  with  a  long  complimentary 
Latin  inscription  to  Henry  VIII.  It  was  probably 
added  after  the  picture  had  been  injured  in  the  Fire 
of  London,  where,  from  what  Pepys  says,  it  may 
have  got  injured.  The  Lincoln's.  Inn  picture  was 
cleaned  in  1789.  The  cleaner  sent  in  a  bill  for 
^400,  but  eventually  took  fifty  guineas. 

Shortly    before   this  picture   of  Holbein's   was 
finished  Henry  (who  was  always  murdering  or  mar- 


sT.  Giles's,  cripplegate,  showing  the  old  wall. 


rying)  wedded  ugly  Anne  of  Cleves,  beheaded 
Cromwell,  and  married  Lady  Katherine  Howard. 
Holbein  himself,  who  lived  in  the  parish  of  St. 
Andrew  Undershaft,  died  of  the  plague  in  the  year 
1 543,  as  was  proved  by  Mr.  Black's  discovery  of 
his  hasty  will.  Before  this  discovery  the  date  of 
Holbein's  death  was  generally  assigned  to  1554. 
'.'Prince  Albert,"  remarks  Aleph,  "visited  this 

noble  Holbein  more 
than   once.     At  his 
desire  it  was  sent  to 
Buckingham  Palace, 
and  remained  there  a 
month ;  but  when  the 
directors  of  the  Man- 
chester     Exhibition 
desired    the   loan  of 
it  they  were  refused. 
As   doubts  were  en- 
tertained that  itwould 
be  damaged    by  re- 
maining in  the  City, 
a  Royal  Commission 
inspected      it,     and 
specimens  of  colours 
were  hung  in  the  hall 
for   several    months, 
with  a  view  to  ascer- 
tain whether  the  at- 
mosphere   was  unfa- 
vourable to  them,  but 
no  change  took  place, 
and    Dean   Milman, 
with  his    coadjutors, 
expressed  their  con- 
viction   that    its   re- 
moval was  not    de- 
sirable.     It   is   pre- 
tended   that    Henry 
never  sat  for  any 
other  portrait,  and  that  those  of  him  at  Hampton 

Court  are  merely   copies The  other 

paintings,"  continues  Aleph,  "  well  deserve  notice. 
Two,  certainly,  are  Vandyke's.  ist.  A  whole- 
length  of,the  Countess  of  Richmond,  in  a  standing 
position,  resting  her  right  hand  upon  a  lamb. 
This  is  a  beautiful  work  of  art.  The  face  is  ex- 
pressive of  unaffected  goodness,  and  the  attitude 
graceful,  without  stiffness.  She  is  robed  in  white 
satin,  and  so  admirably  is  the  fabric  imitated  that 
you  half  believe  it  may  be  grasped.  There  is  a 
copy  of  this  portrait  at  Hampton  Court.  2nd. 
A  likeness  of  Inigo  Jones,  very  fine, ,  and  highly 
characteristic.  Over  the  entrance  to  the  Hall  is  a 
bronzed  bust  of  Jones,  which  is  connected  with  a 


Cripplegate.] 


THE  BARBER-SURGEONS. 


235 


S36 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Cripplegate. 


rather  discreditable  story.  It  seems  this  bust,  not 
many  years  since,  was  found  in  ,a  lumber-closet.  It 
was  of  white  marble,  and  the.  sagacious  Master  of 
the  day  gave  orders  that  it  should  be  bronzed. 
There  is  a  doubtful  sketch  of  a  head,  as  it  is 
thought,  of  LinnEeus,  and  by  whatever  artist  painted, 
its  merit  is  of  no  common  order.  Also,  portraits 
of  Charles  II.  and  Queen  Anne,  both  benefactors 
of  the  Company ;  of  Henry  Johnson,  a  favourite 
of  the  Merry  Monarch;  and  of  Thomas  Lisle, 
King's  barber  in  1622 — the  latter  a  most  solemn 
and  imposing-looking  personage,  who  might  well 
pass  for  the  Prime  Minister.  Across  the  prin- 
cipal entrance  there  stands  a  very  curious  two- 
leaved  screen ;  originally  it  had  four  compartments, 
two  are  lost  or  have  been  destroyed.  It  exhibits 
the  arms  of  the  Company,  and  is  elaborately 
wrought  over  with  innumerable  artistic  emblems, 
fruit,  flowers,  fantastic  ornaments,  and  gilding. 
Its  history  is  a  strange  one.  Once  on  a  time  a 
notable  felon  was  hanged,  and  his  corpse  handed 
over  to  the  Barber-Surgeons  for  dissection;  the 
operator,  fancying  the  heart  still  pulsated,  used 
means  for  resuscitation,  and  succeeded:  The  man 
was  kept  hidden  for  a  long  while,  and  then  sent 
abroad  at  the  Company's  expense.  He  ultimately 
became  rich,  and  in  gratitude  sent  them  this 
screen." 

"  The  Company's  plate,"  remarks  the  same  writer, 
"  includes  a  drinking-cup  and  cover,  in  silver  gilt, 
the  gift  of  Henry  VIII.,  vary  beautifully  chased; 
a  similar  cup,  in  silver,  still  more  elaborately  worked, 
the  gift  of  Charles  II. ;  a  dish,  or  bowl,  very 
large,  with  a  flowered  edge,  not  remarkable  for 
elegance,  the  gift  of  Queen  Anne ;  an  oblong  dish, 
with  a  well  centre,  said  to  havq  been  used  for 
lather  when  people  of  rank  were  shaved ;  and  two 
velvet  caps,  in  filagree  silver  bands,  worn  on  state 
occasions  by  the  Master  and  his  deputy,  they  being 
privileged  by  charter  to  be  covered  in  the  presence 
of  the  sovereign." 

In  the  reign  of  James  I.  the  Company,  it  appears, 
nearly  lost  the  whole  of  theii:  plate,  through  a  suc- 
cessful robbery.  "  The!  thieves,"  says  Mr.  Jesse,  in 
his  "  London  and  its  Celebrities,"  "  were  four  men 
of  the  names  of  Jones,  Lyne,  Sames,  and  Foster, 
of  whom  the  former  confessed  his  guilt,  when,  in 
consequence  of  infonnation  which  he  gave,  the 
plate  was  recovered.  In  the  books  of  the  Com- 
pany for  November,  1616,  is  the  following  matter- 
of-fact  entry  recording  the  fate  of  the  culprits : — 
'  Thomas  Jones  was  taken,  who,  being  brought  to 
Newgate  in  December  following,  Jones  and  Lyne 
were  both  executed  for  this  fact.  In  January  fol- 
lowing, Sames  was  taken  and  executed.     In  April, 


Foster  was  taken  and  executed.  Now,  let's  pray 
God  to  bless  this  house  from  any  more  of  these 
damages.     Amen.' 

"The  following  extract  from  the  Company's 
papers,  under  the  date  of  the  13th  of  July,  1587, 
is  still  more  curious  : — '  It  is  agreed  that  if  any 
body  which  shall  at  any  time  hereafter  happen  to 
be  brought  to  our  hall  for  the  intent  to  be  wrought 
upon  by  the  anatomists  of  the  Company,  shall 
revive  or  come  to  life  again,  as  of  late  hath  been 
seen,  the  charges  about  the  same  body  so  reviving 
shall  be  borne,  levied,  and  sustained  by  such 
person  or  persons  who  shall  so  happen  to  bring 
home  the  body ;  afld  who,  further,  shall  abide  such 
order  or  fine  as  this  house  shall  award.'  Thp 
last  instance,  it  would  appear,  of  recuscitation  in 
a  dissecting-room  occurred  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
last  century.  The  case,  as  used  to  be  related  by 
the  late  celebrated  anatomist,  John  Hunter,  was 
that  of  a  criminal,  whose  body  had  been  cut  down 
after  execution  at  Newgate."  This  case  we  have 
already  mentioned. 

Lambe's  Almshouses  stood  at  the  upper  end  of 
Monkwell  Street.  The  worthy  clothworker  who 
built  these  havens  of  refuge  after  life's  storms  was 
a  ■  gentleman  of  Henry  VIII. 's  chapel.  These 
almshouses  were  on  the  site  of  an  ancient  chapel 
or  hermitage,  built  in  the  old  City  wall,  about  the 
time  of  the  early  Norman  kings,  and  was  partly 
supported  by  royal  stipend  assigned  to  it  in  1275. 
Soon  after  1346  it  passed  into  the  hands  of  the 
Corporation  of  London,  and  after  the  dissolution 
it  was  purchased  by  Lambe. 

This  benevolent  man  also  built  a  conduit  at 
Holborn  Bridge,  at  a  cost  of  ;^  1,500,  and  gave 
one  hundred  and  twenty  pails  for  carrying  water 
to  such  poor  women  "  as  were  willing,"  says  Strype, 
"to  take  pains."  Water  was  not  too  plentiful  in 
Elizabethan  London.  As  late  as  the  end  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  carriers  with  yokes  and  pails 
perambulated  the  streets,  shouting  "Any  New 
River  water  here  ?"  Lambe  also  founded  a  school 
at  Sutton  Valence,  Kent,  the  place  of  his  birth, 
and  built  almshouses  there.  He  gave  ;^3oo  to  the 
Shropshire  clothiers ;  gave  ;^i5  to  Cripplegate 
parish,  for  bells,  with  a  bequest  of  a  J[fi  annuity 
and  ;^f  00  ready  money  to  Christ's  Hospital ;  left  , 
St.  Thomas's  Hospital,  Southwark,  ;^4  a  year, 
and  bequeathed  money  to  the  poor  prisoners  of 
the  London  gaols.  He  provided  los.  each  for, 
the  maniage  of  forty  poor  inaids,  provided  for  all 
his  servants,  and  ordered  a  hundred  arid  eight 
frieze  gowns  to  be  distributed  to  the  poor  at  his 
funeral. 

Anthony  Munday's  account  of  the  perambulation 


Cripplegiite.] 


BASINGHALL    STREET. 


237 


of  Cripplegate  parish  is  so  quaint  that  we  cannot 
refrain  from  abridging  it,  as  a  good  specimen  of 
the  old  parochial  anxiety  to  preserve  the  parish 
bounds.  The  parishioners,  says  Stow's  contiriuator, 
first  struck  down  the  alley  forming  part  of  their 
churchyard,  close  by  St.  Giles's  Well  (made  at  the 
charge  of  ^kichard  Whittington),  and  crossing  the 
tower  ditch,  kept  along  by  the  City  wall  almost  to 
Aldersgate ;  they  then  crossed  the  ditch  again,  by 
certam  garden-houses  near,  and  came  down  a  little 
garden  alley  (formerly  leading  into  Aldersgate),  and 
returned  by  St.  Giles's  Well.  They  then  paraded 
up  the  west  side  of  Redcross  Street  and  the  south 
side  of  Barbican,  till  they  came  to  the  "  Boar's 
Head,"  at  the  end,  and  there  set  up  their  marks 
on  a  great  post.  From  there  they  crossed  over  to 
the  north  side  of  the  street,  through  certain  garden 
alleys,  on  the  west  side  of  Willoughby  House,  a 
course  afterwards  denied  them.  They  next  passed 
through  Barbican,  and  turned  up  Goswell  Street ; 
a  little  beyond  the  bars  they  set  up  their  marks, 
and  passed  along  the  right  side  of  the  King's 
highway  leading  to  Islington;  then  leaving  the 
Mount  Mill  on  the  right,  they  proceeded  till  they 
came  within  three  rods  of  a  little  bridge  at  the 
lower  end  of  a  close,  over  which  lay  a  footpath  to 
Newington  Green.  They  then  dug  a  way  over  the 
ditch,  and  passing  south-east  by  the  low  grounds 
and  brick-fields,  left  the  footpath  leading  from  the 
Pest  House  to  Islington  on  the  left.  From  a  boun- 
dary-stone in  the  brick-hill  they  came  south  to  a 
bridge,  temporarily  provided  for  them,  and  struck 
down  eastward  by  the  ditch  side  to  the  farthest 
conduit  head,  where  they  gave  the  parish  children 
points  (metal  tags,  used  to  fasten  clothes,  in  the 
reign  of  James  I.,  when  Munday  lived).  This  was  to 
fix  the  boundaries  in  the  children's  minds.  In  some 
parishes  children  were  whipped  at  the  boundaries, 
a  less  agreeable  method  of  mnemonics.  From 
Dame  Anne  de  Clare's  famous  well,  mentioned  by 
Ben  Jonson,  they  pushed  on  past  the  Butts,  into 
Holywell  Close.  Eventually,  turning  full  west  over 
the  highway  from  Moorgate,  they  came  into  Little 
Moorfields;  and  keeping  close  to  the  pales  and  the 
Clothworkers'  tenters,  they  reached  the  Postern, 
where  they  put  up  their  final  mark,  "  and  so,"  as 
Pepys  would  say,  "  home." 

Basinghall  Ward  consists  of  Basinghall  Street 
alone.  The  present  Bankruptcy  Court  is  on  the 
site  of  the  old  mansion  of  the  Basings,  of  whom  one, 
Solomon  Basmg,  was  Lord  Mayor  in  the  first  year 
of  Henry  III.  To  his  son,  Adam,  afterwards  mayor, 
Henry  III.  gave  messuages  in  Aldermanbury  and/ 
Milk  Street,  and  the  advowson  of  the  church  at 
Basing  Hall.    According  to  an  old  tradition,  which 


Stow  derides,  the  house  had  once  been  a  Jewish- 
synagogue.  It  passed  into  the  hands  of"  the  Bake- 
wells,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  and  in  the  reign 
of  Richard  IL  was  sold  by  the  king  for  _;^5o  to 
the  City,  who  turned  it  into  a  cloth  exchange, 
which  it  continued  till  1820,  when  the  present 
Bankruptcy  Court  was  erected  on  its  site.  In  old 
times  no  foreigner  was  allowed  to  sell  any  woollen 
cloth  but  in  Bakewell  Hall.  Part  of  the  tolls  or 
hallage  was  given  by  Edward  VI.  to  Christ's  Hos- 
pital, whose  governors  superintended  the  ware- 
houses. It  was  rebuilt  for  .;^2,soo  in  1558,  de- 
stroyed in  the  Great  Fire  of  1666,  and' re-erected 
about  1672. 

St.  Michael's  Bassishaw,  in  this  ward,  was  founded 
about  1140,  rebuilt  in  1460,  destroyed  in  the  Great 
Fire,  and  again  rebuilt  in  1676  by  Sir  Christopher 
Wren.  Here  lies  interred  Sir  John  Gresham,  uncle 
to  Sir  Thomas  Gresham. 

One  of  the  great  benefactors  of  the  church, 
John  Burton,  mercer,  who  died  1460  his  (will  was 
dated  1459),  bequeathed  seven  chasubles  wrought 
with  gold,  in  honour  of  the  Passion,  to  the  church 
of  Wadworth,  in  Yorkshire,  and  desired  his  execu- 
tor to  keep  the  day  of  his  anniversary,  otherwise 
palled  "  yearsmind,"  for  ten  years,  in  the  church  of 
St.  Michael. 

The  following  is  part  of  an  epitaph  of  an  old 
knight  and  surgeon,  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Edward 
VI.'s  reigns : — 

"  In  chirurgery  brought  up  in  youth, 
A  knight  here  lieth  dead  ; 
A  knight,  and  eke.  a  surgeon,  such 
As  England  seld  hath  bred. 

"  For  which  so  sovereign  gift  of  God, 
Wherein  he  did  excsl, 
King  Henry  VIII.  called  him  to  court, 
Who  loved  him  dearly  well. 


"  King  Edward,  for  his  service  sake, 
Bade  him  rise  up  a  knight, 
A  name  of  praise  ;  and  ever  since 
He  Sir  John  Ailife  hight,"  &c. 

'  No  less  than  four  of  the  smaller  City  com- 
panies pitched  their  tents  in  or  near  Basinghall 
Street.  The  Masons'  Hall  is  in  Masons'  Alley, 
between  Basinghall  Street  and  Coleman  Street. 
The  Masons,  with  whom  are  united  the  Marblers, 
were  incorporated  about  1410  as  "the  Free 
Masons,"  they  received  their  arms  in  1474,  but 
were  not  incorporated  till  1677.  The  Weavers' 
Hall  is  in  Basinghall  Street.  Cloth  and  tapestry 
weavers  were  the  first  of  the  livery  companies 
incorporated,  and  in  the  reign  of  Henry  I.  paid 
^16  a  year  to  the  Crown  for  their  immunities. 


238 


OLD  AND   NEW    LONDON. 


[Cripplegale. 


The  privileges  were  confirmed  at  Winchester  by 
Henry  II.,  in  1184,  their  charter  being  sealed 
by  no  less  an  official  than  Thomas  k.  Becket. 
The  great  palladium  of  the  Weavers'  Company  is 
their  old  picture  of  William  Lee,  the  inventor  of 
the  stocking-loom,  showing  his  invention  to  a  female 
knitter,  whose  toil  it  was  to  spare.  Below  is  this 
inscription : — 

"In  the  year  1589  the  ingenious  'WiUiam  Lee,  Master  of 
Arts,  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  devised  this  profit- 
able art  for  stockings  (but  being  despised  went  to  France)  ; 
yet  of  iron  to  himself,  but  to  us  and  others  of  gold,  in 
memory  of  whoin  this  is  here  pftinted." 

There  is  a  tradition  that  Lee  invented  the  machine 

to  facilitate  the  labour  of  knitting,  in  consequence 

of  falling  in  love  with  a  young  country  girl,  who, 

~  during  his  visits,  was  more  attentive  to  her  knitting 

than  to  his  proposals. 

Lee  is  named  as  the  inventor  in  a  petition  of  the 
Framework-knitters  or  Stocking-makers  of  London 
to  Cromwell  for  a  charter,  which  Charles  II.  sub- 
sequently granted. 

In  this  street  also  stood  Coopers'  Hall.  The 
banqueting-hall  is  large  and  wainscoted.  "The 
Coopers,"  says  Mr.  Timbs,  "  were  incorporated  by 
Henry  VII.  in  1501,  and  Henry  VIII.  empowered 
them  to  search  and  to  gauge  beer,  ale,  and  soap- 
vessels  in  the  City  and  two  miles  round,  at  a 
farthing  a  eask."  At  Coopers'  Hall  the  State  lot- 
teries were  formerly  drawn ;  and  Hone  describes, 
in  his  "  Every-Day  Book,"  the  drawing  of  the  last 
lottery  here,  October  18,  1826.  Coopers'  Hall  was 
taken  down  in  1866  for  the  enlargement  of  the  site 
for  the  Guildhall  Offices. 

Girdlers'  Hall,  No.  ^9,  Basinghall  Street,  was 
rebuilt  after  the  Great  Fire.  The  Company  of 
Girdle-Makers  was  incorporated  by  Henry  VI.,  in 
1449,  and  the  charter  was  confirmed  by  Elizabeth, 
and  they  were  subsequently  united  with  the  Pin- 
ners and  Wire-Drawers.  In  their  arms  the 
punning  heralds  have  put  a  girdle-iron.  The  Com- 
pany possesses  a  document  dated  1464,  by  which 
Edward  IV.  confirmed  privileges  granted  to  them 
by  Richard  II.  and  Edward  III.  They  had  the 
power  to  seize  all  girdles  found  within  the  City 
walls,  which  were  manufactured  with  spurious  silver 
or  copper.  The  Girdlers  still  retain  one  quaint 
old  custom  of  their  craft,  and  that  is,  at  the  annual 
election  the  clerk  of  the  Company  crowns  the 
new  master  with  a  silk  crown  embroidered  in  gold 
with  the  Girdlers'  devices,  and  the  lesser  officials 
wear  three  ancient  caps,  after  which  the  master 
pledges  the  company  in  a  goblet  of  Rhenish 
wine. 

The  old  Bankruptcy  Court  in  Basinghall  Street 


had  two  judges  and  five  commissioners;  the  present 
has  only  one.  The  most  important  changes  effected 
in  the  bankruptcy  laws  by  the  Bankruptcy  Act  of 
1869  are  as  follow  : — 

1.  Jurisdiction  of  the  London  Court  confined  to  the 
metropolis,  and  in  local  cases  transferred  to  the  County 
Court  of  the  district  The  abolition  of  commissioners, 
official  assignees,  and  messengers.  Appointment  of  a  single 
judge,  with  registrars,  not  exceeding  four  clerks,  ushers,  and 
other  subordinate  officers  in  substitution. 

2.  Service  of  the  petition  on  the  debtor. 

3.  The  election  of  a  paid  trustee  and  a  committee  of 
creditors  to  wind  up  the  estate. 

4.  Debtor's  petition  abolished. 

5.  Petition  to  be  presented  within  six  months  of  act  of 
bankruptcy,  and  secured  creditors  only  to  count  for  amount 
unsecured. 

6.  Debtor's  summons  extended  to  non-traders,  and  judg- 
ment summons  abolished. 

7.  Bankrupt  not  entitled  to  discharge  until  los.  in  the 
pound  be  paid,  or  creditors  pass  a  special  resolution  that 
bankrupt  cannot  justly  be  held  responsible. 

8.  If  no  discharge  granted,  bankrupt  to  remain  free  for 
.  three  years,  but  property  liable  to  sequestration  aftenvards. 

9.  Privilege  of  Parliament  abolished. 

10.  Liquidation  by  arrangement  authorised,  being  a  new 
mode  of  winding  up  the  debtor's  affairs  by  the  creditors,  on 
the  petition  of  the  debtor. 

11.  A  new  mode  of  practice  in  cases  of  composition. 

In  Whitecross  Street  Henry  V.  built  a  house  for 
a  branch  of  the  Brotherhood  of  St.  Giles,  which 
Henry  VIIL,  after  his  manna-,  eventually  sup- 
pressed. Sir  John  Gresham,  mayor,  afterwards 
purchased  the  lands,  and  gave  part  of  them  as  a 
maintenance  to  a  free  school  which  he  had  founded 
at  Holt,  in  Norfolk.  In  this  street  there  is  the 
debtor's  prison,  now  almost  disused.  It  was  built 
in  1813-15,  from  the  designs  of  William  Montague, 
Clerk  of  the  City  Works.  Warm-hearted  Nell 
Gwynne,  in  her  will,  desired  her  natural  son,  the 
Duke  of  St.  Albans,  to  lay  out  ;^2o  a  year  to 
release  poor  debtors  out  of  prison,  and  this  sum 
was  distributed  every  Christmas  Day  to  the  inmates 
of  Whitecross  Street  Prison. 

"  Whitecross  Street  Prison,"  says  Mr.  H.  Dixon, 
in  1850,  in  his  "London  Prisons,"  "is  divided 
into  six  distinct  divisions,  or  wards,  respectively 
called — I,  the  Middlesex  Ward;  2,  the  Poultry 
and  Giltspur  Street  Ward;  3,  the  Ludgate  Ward; 
4,  the  Dietary  Ward;  5,  the  Remand  Ward;  6, 
the  Female  Ward.  These  wards  are  quite  sepa- 
rate, and  no  communication  is  permitted  between 
the  inmates  of  one  and  another.  Before  com- 
mencing our  rounds,  we  gain,  from  conversation 
with  the  intelligent  governor,  an  item  or  two  of 
useful  preliminary  information.  The  establish- 
ment is  capable  of  holding  500  persons.  It  is, 
however,    very    seldom   that    half    that   number 


Cripplegate.] 


THE  DISSENTERS'  LIBRARY  IN  WHITECROSS  STREET. 


239 


is  confined  at  one  time  within  its  walls.  At  this 
period  last  year  it  had  147  inmates ;  the  pressure 
of  die  times  has  since  considerably  increased  the 
sum-total.  There  are  now  205,  of  which  number 
eight  are  females.  The  population  of  this  prison 
is,  m®reover,  very  migratory.  Last  year  there  were 
no  less  than  1,143  commitments.  This  shows  an 
advance  upon  previous  years — the  result  of  the 
operation  of  the  Small  Debts  Act — a  part  of  the 
building  having  been  set  apart  for  persons  com- 
mitted under  that  Act.  Many  debtors  are  now 
sent  hither  for  a  fixed  term,  mostly  ten  days,  at 
the  expiration  of  which  they  are  discharged.  This 
punishment  is  principally  inflicted  for  contempt  of 
court.  A  woman  was  recently  locked  up  here  for 
ten  days,  for  contempt,  because  unable,  or  unwilling, 
it  was  difficult  to  say  which,  to  discharge  a  debt 
of  sevenpence !  In  all  such  cases  a  more  penal 
•discipline  is  enforced;  the  person  incarcerated  is 
not  allowed  to  maintain  him  or  herself,  but  is  com- 
pelled to  accept  the  county  allowance. 

"Round  the  yard  are  the  lofty  walls  of  the 
prison,  and  the  general  pile  of  the  prison  buildings, 
several  storeys  high.  On  one  side  is  a  large  boardj 
containing  a  list  of  the  benefactors  of  this  portion 


of  the  prison.  There  are  similar  benefactions 
to  each  ward;  amongst  others,  one  from  Nell 
Gwynne,  still  periodically  distributed  in  the  shape 
of  so  many  loaves  of  bread,  attracts  attention. 
These  donations  are  now  employed  in  hiring  some 
of  the  poorer  of  the  prisoners  to  make  the  beds, 
clean  the  floprs,  and  do  other  menial  offices  for 
the  rest.  Passing  through  a  door  in  the  yard,  we 
enter  the  day-room  of  this  ward.  There  are 
benches  and  tables  down  the  sides,  as  in  some 
of  tlje  cheap  coffee-houses  in  London,  and  a  large 
fire  at  the  end,  at  which  each  man  cooks,  or 
has  cooked  for  him,  his  victuals.  On  the  wall  a 
number  of  pigeon-holes  or  small  cupboards  are 
placed,  each  man  having  the  key  of  one,  and 
keeping  therein  his  bread  and  butter,  tea  and 
coffee,  and  so  forth.  These  things  are  all  brought 
in,  and  no  stint  is  placed  upon  the  quantity  con- 
sumed. A  man  may  exist  in  the  prisen  who  has 
been  accustomed  to  good  living,  though  he  cannot 
live  well.  All  kinds  of  luxuries  are  prohibited,  as 
are  also  spirituous  drinks.  Each  man  may  have 
a  pint  of  wine  a  day,  but  not  more;  and  dice, 
cards,  and  all  other  instruments  for  gaming,  are 
strictly  vetoed." 


CHAPTER  XSX. 
CRIPPLEGATE  (continued). 

The  Dissenters'  Library  in  Whitecross  Street— A  Curious  Anecdote  about  Redcross  Street— Grub  Street— The  Haunts  of  Poor  Authors- 
Johnson  in  Grub  Street— Henry  Welby,  the  Grub  Street  Recluse— General  Monk's  House— Whittington's  House— Coleman  Street  and 
the  Puritan  Leaders — ^Venner,  the  Fanatic — Goodwin— St.  Stephen's  Church— Armourers'  Hall. 


Redcross  Street  derived  its  name  from  a  cross 
which  stood  near  the  end  of  Golden  Lane,  as 
Whitecross  Street  did  from  a  stone  cross,  near 
which  ran  a  watercourse  to  Moorfields.  Hughson 
(1806)  calls  Whitecross  Street  "noble,  wide,  and 
well  built,  inhabited  by  persons  of  property."  Here 
Dr. 'Williams  first  established  the  Free  Library, 
chiefly  for  the  use  of  Protestant  Dissenting  minis- 
ters, now  removed  to  Grafton  Street,  Fitzroy 
Square.  Dr.  Daniel  Williams  was  a  Welsh  Non- 
conformist, in  great  favour  with  William  III.  He 
was  preacher  at  Hand  Alley,  Bishopsgate  Street, 
and  succeeded  Richard  Baxter  at  the  lectureship 
of  Pinners'  Hall,  Broad  Street.  Opposed  by  the 
Antinomians,  the  Doctor,  with  Dr.  Bates,  Dr. 
Annerley,  and  others,  set  up  the  lectures  at 
Salters'  Hall,  Cannon  Street,  already  described  by 
us.  The  richer  Dissenters  erected  a  building  in 
Whitecross  Street,  to  contain  the  Doctor's  library, 
generously  left  fpr  pubhc  use,  and  employed  the 


building  as  a  place  of  convocation.  The  building 
contained  two  handsome  rooms,  capable  of  holding 
40,000  volumes,  though  the  original  collection  con- 
tained not  many  more  than  16,000  (Dr.  Bates's  and 
Dr.  Williams's  libraries  formed  its  basis).  There  was 
also  a  gallery  of  portraits  of  celebrated  Dissenting . 
ministers.  Among  the  curiosities  mentioned  in 
old  guide-books  of  London  were  the  following : — 
Eighteen  volumes  of  the  Bible,  written  with  white 
ink  on  black  paper,  for  Mr.  Harris,  an  old  linen- 
draper,  in  1 745,  when  he  had  become  nearly  blind ; 
portraits  of  Samuel  Annesly,  an  ejected  minister 
of  Cripplegate,  and  grandfather  of  Wesley;  the 
preachers  at  the  meeting-house  in  Little  St.  Helen's, 
Bishopsgate  Street — John  Howe,  Dr.  Watts,  Flavell; 
Baxter,  and  Jacomb.  The  library  also  contains 
238  volumes  of  Civil  War  tracts  and  sermons; 
a  finely  illuminated  copy  of  the  Salisbury  Liturgy 
(i  530) ;  the  Bible  in  short-hand,  written  by  a  zealous 
Nonconformist  in  i685,  when  the  writer  was  afraid 


240 


OLD  AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[Cripplegate. 


James  IL  would  destroy  all  the  Bibles ;  a  mask  of 
Cartouche,  the  great  robber,  of  Paris;  the  glass 
basin  in  which  Queen  Elizabeth  was  christened ;  a 
portrait  of  Colonel  John  Lilbume,  one  of  the  judges 
of  Charles  I.  The  library  foundation  was,  in  1806, 
under  the  direction  of  twenty-three~  trustees,  four- 
teen ministers,  and  nine  laymen,  all  Dissenters, 
with  a  secretary  and  steward  under  them. 

Sir  Thomas  More,  in  his  "  Pitiful  Life  of  Edward 
v.,"  has  a  curious  anecdote  about  Redcross  Street : 


thereof,  but  of  all  likelihood  he  spake  it  not  of 
ought." 

The  old  Grub  Street,  the  haunt  of  poor  authors, 
the  mosquitoes  who  tormented  Pope,  and  the 
humble  drudges  with  whom  Dr.  Johnson  argued 
and  perambulated  in  his  struggling  days,  has  now 
changed  its  name  to  Milton  Street.  This  absurd 
transition  from  Lazarus  to  Dives,  from  the  dunghill 
to  the  palace,  originated  in  the  illogical  remem- 
brance of  some  opaque-headed  Government  official 


"  And  first,"  he  says,  "  to  show  you  that  by  con-  i  that  Milton  died  at  his  house  in  the  Artillery  Walk, 


BARBER-SURGEONS'    HALL   (1800). 


jecture  he  (Richard  III.)  pretended  this  thing  in 
his  brother's  life,  you  shall  understand  for  a  truth 
that  the  same  night  that  King  Edward  dyed,  one 
called  Mistlebrooke,  long  ere  the  day  sprung,  came 
to  the  house  of  one  Pottier,  dwelling  in  Red 
Crosse  Street,  without  Cripplegate,  of  London; 
and  when  he  was,  with  hasty  rapping,  quickly  let 
in,  the  said  Misdebrooke  showed  unto  Pottier  that 
King  Edward  was  that  night  deceased.  '  By  my 
troth,'  quoth  Pottier,  'then  will  my  master,  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  be  king,  and  that  I  warrant 
thee !'  What  cause  he  had  so  to  think,  hard  it  is 
to  say,  whether  he  being  his  servant,  \new  any 
such  thing  pretended,  or  otherwise  had  any  inkling 


Bunhill  Fields,  adjoining  to  which  place  he  had 
removed  soon  after  his  third  marriage.  The  direct 
association  of  Pope's  Grub  Street  poets  was  surely 
better  than  the  very  indirect  association  of  Grub 
Street  with  the  sacred  name  of  Milton ;  but  officials 
are  like  that.  Here  poor  hacks  of  weak  will  and 
mistaken  ambition  sat  up  in  bed,  with  blankets 
skewered  round  them,  and,  encouraged  by  gin,  scrib- 
bled epics  and  lampoons,  and  fulsome  dedications 
to  purse-proud  patrons.  Here  poor  men  of  genius, 
misled  by  Pleasure's  ignis  fatuus,  repented  too  late 
their  misused  hours,  and,  by  the  flickering  rush- 
light, desperately  endeavoured  to  retrieve  the  loss 
of  opportunities  by  satires  on  ministers,  or  ribald 


Cripplegate.] 


GRUB  STREET. 


241 


attacks  on  men  more  successful  than  themselves. 
Here  poor  wretches,  like  Hogarth's  poet,  wrestled 
with  the  Muses  while  the  milkman  dunned  them 
.for  their  score,  or  the  bailiff's  man  sat  sullenly 
waiting  for  the  guinea  bribe  that  was  to  close  his 
one  malign  eye.   We  have  before  alluded  to  Pope's 


plied  the  archers  of  Finsbury,  Moorfields,  and 
Islington,  and  who  were  gradually  succeeded  by 
keepers  of  bowling-alleys  and  diceing-houses,  who 
always  'favoured  the  suburbs,  where  there  was  little 
supervision  over  them.  .Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  Dic- 
tionary,   defines   Grub  Street  as  "  the  name  of  a 


THE  GRUB  STREET  HERMIT.     (From  a  Picture puttishcd  hy  Richatdson,  1794.) 


attacks  on  his  Grab  Street  enemies,  and  shown 
how  he  degraded  literature  by  associating  poor 
writers,  however  industrious  or  clever,  with  ribaldry 
and  malice,  so  that  for  long  Curll's  historians, 
sleeping  two  in  a  bed,  in  Grub  Street  garrets, 
were  considered  the  natural  kinsmen  of  all  who 
made  literature  their  profession,  and  did  not  earn 
enormous  '  incomes  by  the  generous  biit  often 
unremunerative  effort  of  spreading  knowledge, 
exposing  error,  and  discovering  truth. 

Stow  describes  Grab  Street,  in  Elizabethan  times, 
as  having  been  inhabited  by  bowyers,  fletchers 
(arrow-makers),  and  bow-string  makers,'  who  sup- 
68— Vot.  II. 


street  in  London  much  inhabited  by  writers  of 
small  histories,  dictionaries,  and  temporary  poems ; 
whence  any  mean  production  is  called  Grab  Street." 

The  Memoirs  of  the  Grub  Street  Society  was  the 
title  of  a  publication  commenced  Jan.  8,  1730.  Its 
object  was  to  satirise  unsparingly  the  personages  of 
the  "Dunciad,"  and  the  productions  of  Gibber, 
Curll,  Dennis,  &c.  It  was  continued  weekly,  till 
the  end  of  1737.  The  reputed  editors  were  Dr. 
Ijlartyn,  a  Cambridge  Professor  of  Botany,  and 
Dr.  Richard  Russell,  who  wrote  one  of  the  earliest 
treatises  on  the  beneficial  use  of  salt  water. 

Warburton  seems  prophetically  to  have  antici- 


24Z 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Cripplegate, 


pated  a  line  of  Mr.  Disraeli's  "  Lothair,"  when, 
in  a  note  to  the  "Dunciad,"  he  calls  a  libeller 
"nothing  but  a  Grub  Street  critic  run  tp  seed." 
Pompous  Sir  John  Hawkins,  in  his  "  Life  of 
Johnson,"  says,  "During  the  usurpation  a  pro- 
digious number  of  seditious  and  libellous  pamphlets 
and  papers,  tending  to  exasperate  the  people  and 
increase  the  confusion  in  which  the  nation  was  in- 
volved, were  from  time  to  time  published.  The 
authors  of  these  were  for  the  most  part  men  whose 
indigent  circumstances  compelled  them  to  live  in 
the  suburbs  and  most  obscure  parts  of  the  town. 
Grub  Street  then- abounded  with  mean  old  houses, 
which  were  let  out  in  lodgings,  at  low  rents,  to 
persons  of  this  description,  whose  occupation  was 
in  publishing  anonymous  treason  and  slander.  One 
of  the  original  inhabitants  of  this  street  was  Foxe, 
the  martyrologist."  In  1710-11  Swift  writes  to 
Stella  of  a  tax  on  small  publications,  which,  he 
says,  "will  utterly  ruin  Grub  Street." 

Mr.  Hoole,  the  translator  of  Tasso,  told  Dr. 
Johnson,  on  one  occasion,  ^says  Boswell,  that  "he 
was  bom  in  Moorfields,  and  had  received  part  of 
his  early  instruction  in  Grub  Street.  'Sir,'  said 
Johnson,  smiling,  'you  have  been  regularly  edu- 
cated.' Having  asked  who  was  his  instructor,  and 
Mr.  Hoole  having  answered,  'My  uncle,  sir,  who 
was  a  tailor,'  Johnson,  recollecting  himself,  said, 
'Sir,  I  kaew  him;  we  called  him  the  meta- 
physical tailor.  He  was  of  a  club  in  Old  Street, 
with  me  and  George  Psalmanazar,  and  some  others ; 
but  pray,  sir,  was  he  a  good  tailor?'  Mr.  Hoole 
having  answered  that  he  believed  he  was  too 
mathematical,  and  used  to  draw  squares  and 
triangles  on  his  shopboard,  so  that  he  did  not 
excel  in  the  cut  of  a  coat.  '  I  am  sorry  for  it,'  said 
Johnson,  'for  I  would  have  every  man  to  be  master 
of  his  own  business.' 

"  In  pleasant  reference  to  himself  and  Mr.  Hoole, 
as  brother  authors,  Johnson  often  said  to  a  friend, 
'  Let  you  and  I,  sir,  go  together,  and  eat  a  beef- 
steak in  Grub  Street.' " 

A  remarkable  seclusion  from  the  world  took 
place  in  Grub  Street,  in  the  person  of  Henry 
Welby,  Esq.  This  gentleman  was  a  native  of  Lin- 
colnshire, where  he  had  an  estate  of  above  ;^i,ooo 
per  annum.  He  possessed  in  an  eminent  degree 
the  qualifications  of  a  gentleman.  Having  been  a 
competent  time  at  the  university  and  the  inns  of 
court,  he  completed  his  education  by  making  the 
tour  of  Europe.  He  was  happy  in  the  love  and 
esteem  of  all  that  knew  him,  on  account  of  his 
many  acts  of  humanity,  benevolence,  and  charity. 
When  he  was  about  forty  years  of  age,  it  is  said 
that  his  brother  (though  another  account  makes  it 


merely  a  kinsman),  an  abandoned  profligate,  made 
an  attempt  upon  his  life  with  a  pistol.  It  missed 
fire,  and  Welby,  wresting  it  from  the  villain's  hand, 
found  it  charged  with  bullets.  Hence  he  formed 
the  resolution  of  retiring  from  the  world;  and 
taking  a  house  in  this  street,  he  reserved  three 
rooms  for  himself — the  first  for  his  diet,  the  second 
for  his  lodging,  and  the  third  for  his  study.  ■  In 
these  he  kept  himself  so  closely  retired,  that  for 
forty-four  years  he  was  never  seen  by  any  human 
creature,  except  an  old  female  servant  that  attended 
him,  and  who  was  only  permitted  to  see  him  in 
some  cases  of  great  necessity.  His  diet  was  con- 
stantly bread,  oatmeal,  water-gruel,  milk,  and  vege- 
tables, and  as  a  great  indulgence,  the  yolk  of  an 
egg,  but  no  part  of  the  white. 

The  hermit  of  Grub  Street  bought  all  the  new 
books  that  were  published,  most  of  which,  upon 
a  slight  examination,  he  rejected.  His  time  was 
spent  in  reading,  meditation,  and  prayer.  No  Car- 
thusian monk  was  ever  more  rigid  in  his  absti- 
nence. His  plain  garb,  his  long  and  silver  beard, 
his  mortified  and  venerable  a^ect,  bespoke  him 
an  ancient  inhabitant  of  the  desert,,  rather  than  a 
gentleman  of  fortune  in  a  populous  city.  He  ex- 
pended a  great  part  of  his.  income  in  acts  of 
charity,  and  was  very  inquisitive  after  proper  ob- 
jects. H*e  died  October  29,  1636,  in  the  eighty- 
fourth  year  of  his  age,  and  was  buried  in  St.  Giles's 
Church,  Cripplegate,  The  old  servant  died  not 
above  six  days  before  her  master.  He  had  a 
very  amiable  daughter,  who  married  Sir  Christopher 
Hildyard,  a  gentieman  of  Yorkshire ;  but  neither 
she  nor  any  of  her  family  ever  saw  her  father  after 
his  retirement. 

A  very  grand  old  house  in  Hanover  Yard,  near 
Grub  Streetj  was  sketched  by  J.  T.  Smith,  in  1791. 
It  was  called  by  the  neighbours  "  General  Monk's 
House."  On  one  of  the  old  water-spouts  was  the 
date,  1653.  The  lead  on  the  roof  was  of  enormous 
thickness,  the  staircase  spacious  and  heavy.  The 
large  rooms  had  ornamented  plaster  ceilings,  and 
one  of  the  first-floor  wainscotings  was  richly  carved 
with  flowers.  But  the  great  feature  of  the  old  man- 
sion, after  all,  was  the  porch,  a  deep  gable-ended 
structure,  supported  by  stately  Ionic  pillars,  and  in 
the  centre  of  the  pediments  a  hon  looking  out. 
The  windows  were  wide  and  latticed.  There  is, 
however,  no  proof  that  General  Monk  ever  re- 
sided in  the  house.  When  the  trimming  general 
returned  from  Scotland,  he  took  up  his  head- 
quarters at  Whitehall;  and  on  the  refractory 
citizens  refusing  the  ;^6o,ooo  demanded  by  the 
Parliament,  Monk  marched  into  the  City,  de- 
stroved  the  portcullises,  and  drew  tip  his  soldiers 


Cripplegate.] 


COLEMAN  STREET. 


243 


in  Finsbury  Fields.  When  the  cowed  City  advanced 
the  money,  chose  Monk  as  the  major-general  of 
their  forces,  and  invited  the  Council  of  State  and 
the  general  to  reside  in  London,  for  their  greater 
safety,  it  is  expressly  mentioned  that  he  returned 
thanks  without  accepting  the  offer.  If  Monk  ever 
resided  in  Hanover  Yard,  it  must  have  been  after 
the  Restoration.  This  may  have  been,  as  has 
been  suggested  by  some,  the  house  of  Dr.  William 
Bulleyn,  that  learned  physician  whom  we  have 
mentioned  in  our  chapter  on  St.  Giles's,  Cripple- 
gate. 

In  Sweedon's  Passage,  Grub  Street,  Mr.  Smith 
also  discovered  an  extremely  old  house,  which, 
according  to  tradition,  had  been  inhabited  by  both 
Whittington  and  Gresham.  It  was  part  of  six 
houses  which  had  occupied  the  site  of  an  older 
mansion.  The  lower  portions  of  the  chimneys  were 
of  stone,  the  timber  was  oak  and  chestnut,  and  the 
ceilings  were  ornamented.  There  was  a  descent 
of  three  feet  into  the  parlour  from  the  outer 
street.  This  houSe  possessed  a  great  curiosity — 
an  external  staircase,  which  stood  out  like  a 
rickety  tower  of  timber  and  plaster,  and  was 
covered  with  a  slanting  projecting  wooden  roof. 
In  an  adjacent  house  was  an  oriel  window, 
and  in  the  street  there  ran  a  long  line  of  lattices, 
once  covered  with  the  relics  of  a  ruined  pent- 
house. 

Coleman.  Street,  near  London  Wall,  was  so 
called,  says  Stow,  vaguely,  of  "  Coleman,  the  first 
builder  and  owner  thereof,"  and  had  the  honour  to 
give  a  name  to  one  of  the  twenty-six  wards  of  the 
City  of  London.  From  the  trial  of  Hugh  Peters, 
after  the  Restoration,  we  gather  that  the  "Star," 
in  Coleman  Street,  was  a  place  of  meeting  for 
Oliver  Cromwell  and  several  of  his  party,  in  1648, 
when  Charles  I.  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Parliament. 

Counsel.  Mr.  Gunter,  what  can  you  say  concerning 
meeting  and  consultation  at  the  "  Star,"  in  Coleman  Street  ? 

Gunter.  My  lord,  I  was  a  servant  at  the  "Star,"  in  Cole- 
man Street,  with  one  Mr.  Hildesley.  That  house  was  a 
house  where  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  several  of  that  party,  did 
use  to  meet  in  consultation.  They  had  several  meetings  ;  I 
do  remember  very  well  one  amongst  the  rest,  in  particular, 
that  Mr.  Peters  was  there ;  he  came  in  the  afternoon,  about 
four  o'clock,  and  was  there  till  ten  or  eleven  at  night.  I, 
being  but  a  drawer,  could  not  hear  much  of  their  discourse, 
but  the  subject  was  tending  towards  the  king,  after  he  was  a 
prisoner,  for  they  called  him  by  the  name  of  Charles  Stuart. 
I  heard  not  much  of  the  discourse ;  they  were  writing,  but 
what  I  know  not,  but  I  guessed  it  to  be  something  drawn  up 
against  the  king.  I  perceived  that  Mr.  Peters  was  privy  to 
it,  and  pleasant  in  the  company. 

The  Court.  How  old  were  you  at  that  time  ? 

Gunter.  I  am  now  thirty  years  the  last  Bartholomew  Day, 
and  this  was  in  1648. 

fhf  Court.  How  long  before  the  king  was  put  to  death  ? 


Gunter.  A  good  while.  It  was  suddenly,  as  I  remember, 
three  days  before  Oliver  Cromwell  went  out  of  town. 

Peters.  I  was  never  there  but  once  with  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Fieimes. 

Counsel.  Was  Cromwell  there  ? 

Gunter.  Yes. 

Counsel.  Was  Mr.  Peters  there  oftener  than  once  ? 

Gunter.  I  know  not,  but  once  I  am  certain  of  it ;  this  is  the 
gentleman,  for  then  he  wore  a  great  sword. 

■Peters.  I  never  wore  a  great  sword  in  my  life. 

The  street  had  been  a  loyal  street  to  the  Puritan 
party,  for  it  was  here  that,  in  1642,  the  five  mem- 
bers accused  of  treason  by  Charles  I.  took  refuge, 
when  he  rashly  attempted  to  arrest  them  in  Parlia- 
ment. 

"  And  that  people  might  not  beheve,"  says  Lord 
Clarendon,  "that  there  was  any  dejection  of  mind 
or  sorrow,  for  what  was  done,  the  same  night  the 
same  council  caused  a  proclamation  to  be  prepared 
for  the  stopping  the  ports,  that  the  accused  persons 
might  not  escape  out  of  the  kingdom,  and  to  forbid 
all  persons  to  receive  and  harbour  them,  when  it 
was  well  known  that  they  were ,  all  together  in  a 
house  in  the  City,  without  any  fear  of  their  security. 
And  all  this  was  done  without  the  least  communi- 
cation with  anybody  but  the  Lord  Digby,  who 
advised  it  ■  and  it  is  very  true,  was  so  willing  to 
take  the  utmost  hazard  upon  himself,  that  he  did 
offer  the  king,  when  he  knew  in  what  house  they 
were  together,  with  a  select  company  of  gentlemen 
who  would  accompany  him,  whereof  Sir  Thomas 
Lunsford  was  one,  to  seize  upon  them  and  bring 
them  away  alive,  or  leave  them  dead  in  the  place ; 
but  the  king  liked  not  such  enterprises. 

"  That  night  the  persons  accused  removed  them- 
selves into  their  stronghold,  the  City:;  not  that  they 
durst  not  venture  themselves  at  their  old  lodgings, 
for  no  man  would  have  presumed  to  trouble  them, 
but  that  the  City  might  see  that  they  relied  upon 
that  place  for  a  sanctuary  of  their  privileges  against 
violence  and  oppression,  and  so  might  put  on  an 
early  concernment  for  them.  And  they  were  not 
disappointed;  for,  in  spite  of  all  the  Lord  Mayor 
could  do  to  compose  their  distempers  (who  like  a 
very  wise  and  stout  magistrate  bestirred  himself), 
the  City  was  that  whole  night  in  arms,  some  people 
designed  to  that  purpose  running  from  one  gate  to 
another,  and  crying  out  '  that  the  Cavaliers  were 
coming  to  fire  the  City,'  and  some  saying  that  '  the 
king  himself  was  in  the  head  of  them.' 

"The  next  morning  Charles  himself  came  in 
search  of  the  five  members.  He  told  one  of  the 
sheriiOfs  (who  was  of  the  two  thought  less  inclined  to 
his  service) '  that  he  would  dine  with  him.  He  then 
departed  without  that  applause  and  cheerfulness 
which  he  pight  hav^   expected  ftom  the  extf^- 


244 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


rCripplegate. 


ordinary  grace  he  vouchsafed  to  them ;  and  in  his 
passage,  through  the  City,  the  rude  people  flocked 
together,  crying  out,  'Privilege  of  Parliament !  privi- 
lege of  Parliament ! '  some  of  them  pressing  very 
near   his  own  coach,  and  amongst  the  rest  one 
calling  out  with  a  very  loud  voice,  '  To  your  tents, 
O  Israel!'    However,  the  king,  though  much  morti- 
fied, continued  his  resolution,  taking  little  notice  of 
the  distempers ;  and,  having  dined  at  the  sherift's, 
returned  in  the  afternoon  to  Whitehall,  and  published 
the  next  day  a  proclamation  for  the  apprehension 
of  all  those  whom  he  accused  of  high  treason,  for- 
bidding any  person  to  harbour  them,  the  articles  of 
their  charge  being  likewise  printed  and  dispersed." 
At  No.  14,  Great  Bell  Yard,  now  Telegraph  Street, 
Robert  Bloomfield,  the  shoemaker  poet,  followed 
his  calling.     The  poet's  father  was  a  poor  tailor  in 
Suffolk,  and  his    mother  kept  a  little   school  in 
which  her   own   children  were  the  chief   pupils. 
Being  too  delicate  to  follow  the  plough,  Bloomfield 
was  sent  to  London  to  his  elder  brother  George,  to 
learn  shoemaking.     There,  penned  up  in  a  garret 
with  six  or  seven  other  lads,  who  paid  a  shilling 
each  for  their  lodging,   Bloomfield  wrote  "The 
Farmer's  Boy,"  of  which,   in  three  years,   26,000 
copies  we.re  sold,  besides  French,  German,  Italian, 
and  Latin  translations.  .  The  Duke  of  Grafton  then 
kindly  assigned  him  a  pension  of  a  shilling  a  day, 
and   gave  him  a  small  post  in  the  Seal  Office. 
Compelled  by  ill-health   to  resign  this   situation, 
Bloomfield  returned  to  the  manufacture  of  ladies' 
shoes,  became  involved  in  debt,  and  died  worn 
out  and  nearly  insane  in  1823.     Taylor,  the  water- 
poet,  describes  the  Cambridge:  carriers  as  lodging 
in  his  time  at  the  "  Bell,"  in  Coleman  Street. 

■  Cowley,  in  his  pleasant  Comedy  of  The  Cutter  of 
Coleman  Street,  admirably  sketches  the  tricks  of  the 
old  broken-down  Cavaliers  after  the  Restoration, 
who  had  to  practise  all  their  arts  to  obtain  a  dinner, 
and  who,  six  days  out  of  seven,  had  to  feast  with 
Duke  Humphrey,  and  flourish  a  toothpick,  while  all 
the  while  struggling  with  that  unruly  member,  an 
empty  stomach. 

'  JoUy.  (A  gentleman  whose  estate  was  confiscated  in  the  late 
troubles.)  Ye  shall  no  more  make  monstrous  tales  from 
Bruges,  to  revive  your  sinking  credits  inlloyal  ale-houses, 
nor' inveigle  into  taverns  young  foremen  of  the  shop,  or  little 
beardless  blades  of  the  Inns  of  Court,  to  drink  to  the  royal 
family  parabolically,  and  with  bounping  pathe^  like  cannon 
at  every  health ;  nor  upon  unlucky  failing  afternoons  take 
melancholy  turns  in  the  Temple  walks,  ani  when  you  meet 
acquaintance  cry,  "  You  wonder  why  your  lawyer  stays  so 
long,  with  a  hang  to  him  !"    ...•',,    . 

Worm.  (Cutter's  companion,  and  of  much  the  same  cha- 
racter.) They  call  him  Colonel  Cutter,  but  to  deal  faithfully 
with  you,  madam,  he  is  no  more  a  colonel  than  you're  a 
major-general. 


Cutter.  {A  merry,  sharking  fellow  about  town — entering.) 
Ha  !    Sure  I  mistake  the  rogue  ! 

Wor.  He  never  serv'd  his  king — not  he  ! — no  more  than 
he  does  his  Maker.  'Tis  true  he's  drunk  his  health  as  often 
as  any  man,  upon  other  men's  pharges,  and  he  was  for  a  httle 
while,  I  think,  a  kind  of  Hector  till  he  was  soundly  beaten- 
one  day,  and  dragg'd  about  the  room,  like  old  Hector,  o' 
Troy  about  the  town. 

Cut.  What  does  this  dog  mean,  trow  ? 
Wor.  Once,  indeed,  he  was  very  low — for  almost  a  twelve- 
month— and  had  neither  money  enough  to  hire  a  barber  nor 
buy  scissors,  and  then  he  wore  a  beard  (he  said)  for  King 
Charles.  He's  now  in  pretty  good  clothes,  but  would  you 
saw  the  fiimiture  of  his  chamber  !  Marry,  half  a  chair,  an 
earthen  pot  without  an  ear,  and  the  bottom  of  an  ink-horn 
for  a  candlestick  ;  the  rest  is  broken  foul  tobacco-pipes,  and  a 
dozen  o'  gally-pots,  with  salve  in  'em. 

Cut.  Was  there  ever  such  a  cursed  villain  ! 
Wor.  He's  been  a  known  cheat  about  town  these  twenty 
years. 

It  was  in  a  conventicle,  hidden  away  in  Swan 
Alley,  on  the  east  side  of  Coleman  Street,  that  that 
dangerous  fanatic  Venner,  a  wine-cooper  and  Mille- 
narian  (already  alluded  to  in  our  chapter  on  Wood 
Street,  Cheapside),  preached  to  "the  soldiers  of 
King  Jesus,"  and  urged  them  to  commence  the 
Fifth  Monarchy.  The  congregation  at  once  rose 
in  arms,  and  rushed  out  into  the  streets  to  slay  all 
the  followers  of  Baal.  An  insurrection  followed, 
which  ended  in  Venner  (who  had  better  have  been 
hooping  his  casks)  being  hung  and  quartered  in 
Coleman  Street,  January  19th,  1 660-1. 

John  Goodwin,  a  Puritan  religious  writer  who 
promoted  the  condemnation  of  Charles-  I.,  was,  in 
1633,  presented  to  the  living  of  St.  Staphen's, 
Coleman  Street.  He  it  was  who  had  intruded 
himself  on  the  king  the  day  before  his  execution, 
and  offered  to  pray  with  him.  The  king  thanked 
him,  but  said  he  had  chosen  Dr.  Juxon,  whom  he 
knew.  Fearing  the  gallows  after  the  Restoration, 
his  pamphlet  defending  the  sentence  passed  on  the 
king  having  been  burnt  by  the  pubjic  hangman, 
Goodwin  fled,  but  afterwards  returned  and  opened 
a  private  conventicle  in  Coleman  Street,  where  he 
died,  1665. 

Goodwin,  whose  hand  was  against  every  man, 
was  much  belaboured  by  John  Vicars,  an  usher  of 
Christ's  Hospital,  a  man  even  more  violent  and 
intolerant  than  himself.  The  title  of  one  of  Vicars's 
works  will  be  sufficient  to  show  his  command  of 
theological  Billingsgate. 

"Coleman  Street  conclave  visited,  and  that 
grand  impostor,  the  schismatic's  cheater-in'-chief 
(who  hath  long  slily  lurked  therein),  truly  and  duly 
discovered  ;  containing  a  most  palpable  and  plain, 
display  of  Mr.  John  Goodwin's  self-conviction 
under  his  own  handwriting),  and  of  the  notorious 
heresies,  errors,  malice,  pride,  and  hypocrisy  of 
this  most  huge  Garagantua,  in  fglsely-pretended 


Aldgate.] 


ST.  STEPHEN'S,  COLEMAN  STREET. 


245 


piety,  to  the  lamentable  misleading  of  his  too-too, 
credulous  soul-murdered  proselytes  of  Coleman 
Street  and  elsewhere ;  collected  principally  out  of 
his  own  big — bragadochio  and  wave-like — swelling, 
and  swaggering  writings,  full-fraught  with  six-footed 
terms,  and  flashie  rhetorical  phrases,  far  more  than 
solid  and  sacred  truths.  And  may  fitly  serve  (if  it  be 
the  Lord's  will),  like  Belshazzar's  handwriting,  on 
the  wall  of  his  conscience,  to  strike  terror  and 
shame  into  his  jown  soul  and  shameless  face,  and 
to  undeceive  his  most  miserably  cheated  and  in- 
chanted  or  bewitched  followers." 

St.  Stephen's,  Coleman  Street,  can  boast  some 
antiquity  if  it  can  boast  no  beauty,  since  between 
the  years  1171  and  1181  the  Dean  and  Chapter 
of  St.  Paul's  granted  both  this  building  and  St. 
Olave's,  Jewry,  to  which  it  was  appended  as  a 
chapel,  to  the  prior  and  abbot  of  Butley  in  Suffolk. 
It  is  said  by  Stow  to  have  been  first  a  synagogue, 
then  a  parish  church,  and  lastly  a  chapel  to  St. 
Olave's,  in  which  vassalage  it  continued  till  the 
7th  of  Edward  IV.,  when  it  was  again  chosen  to 
reign  over  a  parish  of  its  .  own.  It  was  destroyed 
by  the  Great  Fire,  and  meanly  rebuilt  by  Wren  in 
1676.  The  monuments,  with  few  exceptions,  are 
uninteresting.  There  is  one  to  John  Taylor,  a 
haberdasher,  who  left  ^^2  00  to  be  lent  to  young 
haberdashers,  and  2s.  a  week  in  bread  to  be  dis- 
tributed for  ever  on  Sundays  to  poor  householders  j 
and  here  lies  the  only  hero  of  St.  Stephen's  tombs, 
good  old  Anthony  Munday,  the  continuator  of  Stow, 
who  died  in  1633,  after  much  industrious  study 
of  the  London  records,  and  thirty  years'  honest 
labour  at  City  shows  and  pageants.  There  is  a 
certain  friendly  fervour  about  his  epitaph,  as  if  some 
City  laureate  had  written  it  to  pin  to  his  hearse. 

"To  the  Memory  of  that  ancient  Servant  to  the  City,  with 
His  Pen,  in  Divers  Imployments,  especially  the  Survey  of 
London,  Master  Anthony  Munday,  Citizen  and  Draper  of 
London  : 

"  He  that  hath  many  an  ancient  tombstone  read, 
(I'  th'  labour  seeming  more  among  the  dead 


To  live,  than  with  the  living),  that  survaid 
.  Abstruse,  antiq^uities,  and  o'er  them  laid 
Such  vive  and  beauteous  colours  with  his  pen, 
That  (spite  of  Time)  those  old  are  new  again. 
Under  this  marble  lies  interr'd,  his  tombe 
Claiming  (as  worthily  it  may)  this  roome, 
Among  those  many  monuments  his  quill 
Has  so  reviv'd,  helping  now  to  fill 
A  place  (vjfith  those)  in  his  suiTey  ;  in  which 
He  has     monument,  more  fair,  more  rich 
Than  polisht  stones  could  inake  him  where  he  lies, 
Though  dead,  stiE  living,  and  in  that  ne'er  dyes." 

The  entrance  gateway  of  St^  Stephen's  has  a  rude 
alto-relievo  of  the  Last  Judgment ;  the  clouds  are 
as  round  and  heavy  as  puddings,  and  the  whole  is 
inferior  td  the  treatment  of  the  same  subject  at  St. 
Giles's-in-the-Fields.  Of  this  parish,  according  to 
Defoe's  romance,  John  Hayward  was  under-sexton 
during  the  Gre^at  Plague.  He  "carried  all  the  parish 
dead  to  the  Plague-pit,  and  drove  their  bodies  in 
the  dead-cart,  yet  he  never  caught  the  disease, 
and  lived  itwenty  years  after.  Among  the  modem 
monument'?  at  StJ  Stephen's  is  a  marble  bas-relief, 
by  E.  W.  Wyat,  erected  in  1847,  to  the  Rev.  Josiah 
Pratt,  vicar,  of  the  parish,  whose  active  missionary 
labours  arCi  personified  by  an  angel  addressing  an 
African,  a  lH.wdo,Q,  and  a  New  Zealander. 

Tlje  fine  building  with  a  Doric  portico"  situated 
at  the  norjth-east  comer  of  Coleman  Street  is  ;the 
Armourers'  and  Braziers'  Hall.  It  stands  on  the 
site  of  the  old  hall  of  the  Company,  incorporated  at 
the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.,  in  1422. 
The  Armourers'  function  is  now  rather  obsolete, 
but  the  hall  is  still  decorated  with  coats  of  arms, 
and  there  is  a  fine  gilt  suit  atthe  Tower,  which  w^s 
given  by  the  Company  to  Charies  I.,  when  a  gay 
young  prince, '  y/iih  his  narrow  head  firm  on.  In 
the  Banqueting  iHall  is  one  of  Northcote's  vapid  but 
atnbitious  pictujres,  "The  Entry  of  Richard  II.  and 
Bolingbroke  info  London,"  purchased  by  the  Com- 
pany from  Boydell's  Shakespeare  Gallery,  in  1825. 
How  the  spiteflil,  shrewd  little  painter  would  writhe 
could  he  hear  the  opinions  of  critical  visitors ! 


CHAPTER     XXX., 
ALDGATE,    THE   MlNORIES,    AND    CRUTCHED   FRIARS. 

The  Aldgate  of  1606— Brave  Doings  at  Aldgate— The  Conduit— Duke's  Place— The  Prioty  of  the  Holy  Trinity— The  Jews  in  Aldgalc— The  Abbey 
of  St.  Clare— Goodman's  Fields- The  Minories^A  fine  old  London  House-Crutched  Friars— Sir  John  Milborne— The  Drapers'  Almshouses. 


"  Thk  gate  described  by  Stow,"  says  Cunningham, 
"was  taken  down  in  1606,  and  a  new  one  erected 
in  its  stead,  the  omaments  of  which  are  dwelt  on  at 
great  length  by  Stow's  continuators.  Two  Roman 
soldiers  stood  on  the  outer  battlements  with  stone 


balls  in  their  hands,  ready  to  defend  the  gate ;  be- 
neath, in  a  square,  was  a  statue  of  James  I.,  and  at 
his  feet  the  roya!  supporters.  On  the  City  side  stood ' 
a  large  figure  of  Fortune,  and  somewhat  lower,  so 
as  to, grace  each  side  of  the  gate,  gilded  figures  of 


246 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


rAUgatc 


Peace  and  Charity,  copied  from  the  reverses  of  two 
Roman  coins,  discovered  [whilst  digging  the  new 
foundations  for  the  gate.  The  whole  structure  was 
two  years  in  erecting."  - 

Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Silent  Woman,  says,  "Many 


1607,  were  discovered  coins  of  Trajan,  Domitian, 
and  Valentinian — the'  Barons,  in  1215,  entered 
London  by  consent  of  the' citizens,  on  their  way 
to  meet  King  John.  This  was  one  of  the  most 
ruinous  of  the  City  gates,  and  the  Earl  of  Essex  and 


RUINS  OF  THE  CONVENT  OF  ST.  CLARE.     (From  a  View  published  by  J.  T.  Smith,  1797). 


things  that  seem  foul  in  the  doing,  do  please  done. 
You  see  gilders  will  not  work  but  inclosed.  '  How 
long  did  the  canvas  hang  before  Aldgate  ?  Were 
the  people  suffered  to  see  the  City's  Love  and 
Charity  while  they  were  rude  stone,  before  they 
were  painted  and  burnished?" 

The  City's  Love  and  Charity  were  standing  in 
1761 ;  the  other  statues  had  been  long  removed. 

Through  this  gate— under  which,  about  the  year 


Earl  of  Gloucester  repaired  it  with  the  stones  from 
monasteries  and  Jews' houses,  that  had  been  juth- 
lessly  pulled  down  on  purpose. 

During  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.,  Aldgate  again 
felt  maces  beat,  at  its  doors,  and  clothyard  shafts 
tremble  in  its  tough  planks.  In  147 1  the  Bastard 
Falconbridge,  collecting  seamen  in  Essex  and  Kent, 
came  with  his  vessels  and  anchored  near  tlie  Tower. 
On  hearing  of  his  intention,  the  mayor  and  alder- 


Aldga.tei] 


DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  ALDGATE. 


247 


WHITTINGTON'S  house,    grub  street.     (Smi(&,  iSii.) 

GENERAL  MONK's  HOUSE.  BLOOMFIELD's    HOUSE  (1823). 

REMAINS   OF  ALDGATE,    BETHNAL   GREEN.      (Malcolm,  1800.) 


248 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Aldgate. 


men  fortified  the  Thames  shore,  from  Baynard 
Castle  to  the  Tower,  and  stood  'to  their  guns. 
The  Bastard,  finding  the  south  side  unapproach- 
able, then  assailed  the  east  of  London,  and  attacked 
Aldgate  with  5,000  turbulent  men ;  but  the  citizens, 
letting  the  portcullis  drop,  entrapped  and  cut  off 
many  of  their  assailants.  Elated  by  this,  Robert 
Bassett,  the  alderman  of  Aldgate,  ordered  the 
portcullis  to  be  drawn  up,  in  God's  name,  and,  by 
a  brave  sortie,  drove  the  enemy  back  as  far  as  St. 
Botolph's.  At  this  ju^jcture,  Earl'  Rivers  and  the 
Constable  of  the  Tower  arriving  with  reinforce- 
ments, drove  the  rebels  back  as  far  as  Mile  End, 
Poplar,  and  Stratford.  Many  of  the  assailants  of 
Aldgate  Were  slain  in  this  attack,  after  which  the 
Bastard  fled. 

Near  this  gate,  in  the  feign  of  Edward  I.,  in  a 
small  projecting  tutret,  was  a  hermitage.  Without 
Aldgate  was  a  conduit,  erected  in  1535.  The  water 
was  conveyed  from  Hackney.  The  crowd  of  poor 
water-bearers,  with  their  tubs,  pails,  and  tankards, 
proving,  however,  a  nuisance,  the  conduit  was  re- 
moved into  a  side  court. 

Among  the  records  of  the  City  of  London  is  a 
lease  granting  the  whole  of  the  house  above  the 
gate  of  Aldgate  to  the  poet  Chaucer,  in  1374. 

In  Aldgate  all  the  prisoners  of  the  Poultry 
Compter  were  lodged  after  the  Great  Fire,  till  the 
prison  could  be  rebuilt.  In  the  year  1760,  when  the 
City  gates  were  taken  down  to  widen  the  streets, 
Aldgate  was  bought  by  Mr.  Mussell,  of  Bethnal 
Green,  a  zealous  antiquary,  who  inhabited  a  house 
belonging  to  Lord  Viscount  Wentworth,  built  in  the 
reign  of  James  II.  Mr.  Mussell  rebuilt  the  gate 
on  the  north  side  of  his  mansion,  to  which  he 
henceforth  gave  the  name  of  Aldgate  House.  There 
was  a  bas-relief  on  the  south  front,  carved  from 
Wat  Tyler's  tree,  an  old  oak  which  once  grew 
on  Bow  Common,  and  which  the.  aldermen  and 
council  had  had  carved  to  adorn  the  old  City  gate, 
A  year  ago,  as  workmen  were  excavating  near  Aid- 
gate  Pump,  sonie  very  curious  arches,  resembling 
the  cloisters  of  an  ancient  abbey,  were  discovered. 
,  Duke's  Place,  Aldgate,  was  so  called  from 
Thomas  Howard,  Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  was  be- 
headed in  1572  for  his  political  intrigues  with  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots,  to  whose  hand  the  weak  and  am- 
bitious Catholic  nobleman  had  aspired.  "  I  find," 
says  Strype,  "the  said  duke,  anno  1562,  >vith  his 
Duchess,  riding  thither  through  Bishopsgate  Street 
to  Leadenhall,^  and  so  to  Cree  Church,  to  his  own 
place,  attended  with  a  hundred  horse  in  his  livery, 
with  his  gentlemen  afore,  their  coats  guarded  with 
velvet,  and  four  heralds  riding  before  *him,  viz., 
Clarencieux,    Somerset,    Red    Cross,    and    Blue 


Mantle."     The  precinct  of  the  Priory  <5f  the  Holy 
Trinity,  without  Aldgate,  was  given  by  Henry  VIII. 
to  Sir  Thomas  Audley,  afterwards  Lord  Chancellor, 
who   lived  there,  and   died  there  in   1554.     Sir 
Thomas,  wishing  to   rebuild  St.  Catherine  Cree, 
offered  the  parish  the  priory  church  and  its  nine 
bells  in  exchange  for  their  own.  The  parish  refusing 
to  purchase.  Sir  Thomas  offered  the  church  and 
steeple  to  any  one  who  would  cart  it  off,  but  in  vain. 
He  then  pulled  it  down  anyhow,  breaking  half  the 
stones,  and  sold  the  bells  to  Stepney  parish  and 
St.  Stephen,  Coleman  Street.     The  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk, marrying  Sir  Thomas's  daughter,  inherited  the 
estate.     The  Earl  of  Suffolk,  son  of  the  duke  who 
was  beheaded,  sold  the  priory  precinct  and  the 
mansion-house  of  his.  mother  to  the  City,     In 
the  year  1622  the  inhabitants   of  Duke's  Place, 
having    a  quarrel    with  the    parishioners  of  St. 
Catherine,  obtained  leave  from  King  Charles  to 
rebuild  the  priory  church,  aided  by  the  donations 
of  Lord  Mayor  Barkham.     The  people  of  Duke's 
Place  claim  the  priory  church  as  the  place  of  inter- 
ment of  Fitz  Alwyn  (draper),  the  first  Lord  Mayor 
of  London,  but  their  claim  is  highly  doubtful.    In 
1650,  when  they  were  allowed  by  Cromwell,  in  his 
tolerant  wisdom,  to  return  to  England,  many  Jews 
settled  in  Duke's  Place,  where,  after  the  Restora- 
tion, they  still  more  flourished.     The  German  and 
Polish  Jews  built  a  synagogue  here,  in  1692,  ■H;hich 
was  rebuilt  in  1790.  Over  the  porch  bf  this  building 
is  a  large  hall,  once  used  for  the  celebration  of  the 
weddings  of  poor  Jews.     A  writer  in  the  Jewish 
Chronicle  says : — 

"The  influx  of  Jews  from  Lithuania  and  Germaiiy 
became  greater  and  greater  towards  the  end  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  The  aristocratic  Sephardim, 
whose  ancestors  had  banqueted  with  sovereigns, 
and  held  the  purse-strings  of  kings,  looked,  it  must 
be  owned,  with  some  disdain  on  their  poorer  and 
humbler  brethren — the  plebeian  Ashkenazim,  who 
had  dealt  in  worn  gannents  or  huckstered  in  petty 
commodities  on  the  banks  of  tlie  Vistula,  or  in 
German  Ghettos.  The  Portuguese  did  not  allow 
the  Germans  to  have  any  share  in  the  management 
of  congregational  affairs.  The  Germans,  in  point 
of  fact,  were  treated  as  belonging  to  a  lower  caste, 
and  the  only  functions  that  a  member .  of  that 
nationality  was  permitted  to  fulfil  were  the  useful, 
albeit  lowly  duties  of  beadle,  which  were  actually 
entrusted  to  a  German — a  certain  Benjamin  Levy. 
In  time  the  Germans  resolved  to  establish  a  syna- 
gogue of  their  own,  and  in  1692,  during  the  reign 
of  William  III,,  one  of  their  body,  a  philanthropic 
and  affluent  individual,  named  Moses  Hart,  built  a 
place  of  worshio  in  Broad  Court,  Duke's  Place." 


AMgate.l 


THE  ABBEY  OF  ST.   CLARE. 


249 


In  the  Mmories,  lying  between  Aldgate  and 
Tower  Hill,  there  stood,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  an 
abbey  of  nuns  of  the  order  of  St.  Clare,  called  the 
Minories,  founded  in  1293  by  Edmund,  Earl  of 
Lancaster,  Leicester,  and  Derby,  and  brother  to 
Edward  I.,  to  receive  nuns  who  were  brought  from 
Spain  by  his  wife  Blanche,  Queen  of  Navarre.  Ribi- 
deneira,  the  Spanish  Jesuit,  who  wrote  the  "  Lives 
of  the  Saints,"  tells  us  that  St.  Clare  was  an  Italian 
saint  who,  by  the  advice  of  St.  Francis,  ran  away 
from  her  father's  house  to  take  refuge  in  a  convent, 
where  she  miraculously  multiplied  the  bread,  and 
rebuked  the  devil  in  person.  She  died  in  1253 
(Henry  III.)  During  the  plague  of  1515  twenty- 
seven  of  these  nuns 
were  carried  off,  be- 
sides lay  servants. 
The  nunnery,  which 
spent  ;^4i8  8s.  sd. 
a  year,  was  surren- 
dered by  Dame  Eliza- 
beth Salvage,  the  last 
abbess,  to  Henry 
VIIL,  ini539.  After 
the  dissolution  the 
nunnery  became  the 
residence  of  many 
great  people ;  first  of 
all,  of  John  Clark, 
Bishop  of  Bath  and 
Wells,  Henry's  am- 
bassador, afterwards 
of  officers  of  the 
Tower;  and  early  in 
1552     Edward    VI. 

gave  it  to  Henry,  'Duke  of  Suffolk,  father  of  Lady 
Jane  Grey.  In  StoVs  time,  in  place  of  the  nunnery 
were  built  "divers  fair  and  large  storehouses  for 
armour  and  habiliments  of  war,  with  divers  work- 
houses serving  the  same  purpose." 
'  The  Church  of  the  Priory  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
in  the  Minories,  was  founded  by  Matilda,  queen  of 
Henry  I.,  in  1108.  It  escaped  the  Great  Fire,  but 
becoming  dangerous  was  taken  down  and  rebuilt 
in  1706.  In  Strype's  time  this  church  claimed 
mischievous  privileges,  such  as  marrying  without 
a  licence.  In  the  church  is  the  tomb  of  William 
Legge,  that  faithful  servant  of  Charles  I.,  to  whom 
the  king  confided  his  message  to  his  degenerate 
son,  enjoining  him  to  remember  "  the  faithfullest 
servant  ever  prince  had."  Here,  too,  was  buried 
Legge's  son,  the  first  Earl  of  Dartmouth,  to 
whose  father  Charles  II.  had  granted  the  Minory 
House. 
-'  **  Near  adjoining  to    this   abbey,    called   the 


Minories,"  says  Stow,  more  autobiographically  than 
usual,  "  on  the  south  side  thereof,  was  some  time 
a  farm  belonging  to  the  said  nunnery;  at  the 
which  farm  I  myself  (in  my  youth)  have  fetched 
many  a  halfpenny  worth  of  milk,  and  never  had 
less  than  three  ale-pints  for  a  halfpenny  in  the 
summer,  nor  less  than  one  ale-quart  for  a  half- 
penny in  the  winter,  always  hot  from  the  cow,  as 
the  same  was  milked  and  strained.  One  Trolop, 
and  afterwards  Goodman,  were  the  farmers  there, 
and  had  thirty  or  forty  kine  to  the  pail.  Good- 
man's son  being  heir  thereof,  let  out  the  ground, 
first  for  grazing  of  horses,  and  then  for  garden 
plots,  and  lived  like  a  gentleman  thereby.     He 

lieth    buried    in    St. 
Botolph's  Church." 

In  Strype's  time 
Goodman's  Fields 
were  "no longer  fields 
and  gardens,  but 
buildings  consisting  of 
many  fair  streets,  as 
Maunsel  Street,  Pes- 
cod  or  Prescot  Street, 
Leman  Street,  &c., 
and  tenters  for  cloth- 
workers,  and  a  large 
passage  for  carts  and 
horses  out  of  White- 
chapel  into  Wellclose, 
besides  many  other 
lanes."  "  On  the 
other  side  of  that 
street,"  says  Stow, 
"  lieth  the  ditch  with- 
out the  walls  of  the  City,  which  of  old  times  was 
used  to  lie  open,  and  was  always  (from  time  to 
time)  cleansed  from  filth  and  mud,  as  need  re- 
quired; and  was  of  great  breadth,  and  so  deep, 
that  drivers  watering  horses,  where  they  thought 
it  shallowest,  were  drowned,  both  horse  and  man. 
But  now  of  later  time  the  same  ditch  is  enclosed, 
and  the  banks  thereof  let  out  for  garden  plots, 
and  divers  houses  be  thereon  builded ;  whereby  the 
City  wall  is  hidden,  the  ditch  filled  up,  a  small 
channel  left,  and  made  shallow  enough." 

That  miserable  and  worthless  coward,  Lord 
(!;obham,  who  falsely  accused  Raleigh  of  a  share  in 
his  plot,  almost  died  of  starvation  in  the  Minories, 
in  the  mean  lodgings  of  a  poor  woman  who  had 
been  his  laundress.  Congreve  has  some  verses  full 
of  strained  wit  and  gallantry,  after  his  manner,  on  the 
Mulcibers  of  the  Minories,  who  deform  themselves 
in  shaping  the  stays  of  steel  that  "  give  Aurelia's 
forrn  the  power  to  kill."    During  the  Spa  Field? 


ALDGATE. 


sS© 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tAldgate, 


riots  of  December  2, 1816,  when  young  Watson  led 
on  the  mob,  and  Thistlewood  tried  to  persuade 
the  soldiers  to  surrender  the  Tower,  two  gun-shops 
in  the  Minories  were  broken  open  by  the  rioters, 
and  many  guns  and  one  small  brass  field-piece 
stolen.  When  the  cavalry  arrived,  however,  the 
field-piece  was.  soon  deserted. 

One  of  the  most  extraordinary  old  houses  in 
London  was  one  sketched  by  J.  T.  Smith,  in  1792, 
and  taken  down  in  i8or.  It  stood  at  the  end  of 
a  low  dark  court  on  the  south  side  of  Hart  Street, 
and  was  universally  known  in  Crutched  Friars  as 
Whittington's  Palace.  The  last  lodger  was  a  car- 
penter, who  had  sunk  a  saw-pit  at  the  north  end  of 
the  courtyard.  The  whole  front  of  the  house, 
which  had  originally  formed  three  sides- of  a  square, 
was  of  carved  oak.  The  tradition  was  that  the  cats' 
heads  carved  on  the  ceilings  always  had  their  eyes 
directed  on  the  spectator  wherever  he  stood,  and 
that  even  the  knockers  had  once  been  shaped 
like  cats'  heads.  Two  sides  of  the  outer  square 
were  nearly  all  glass  lattice,  and  above  and  below 
ran  wild-beasts'  heads  and  crouched  goblins,  that 
acted  as  corbels.  The  doorway  panels  were  richly 
carved,  and  above  and  below  each  tier  of  windows 
were  strings  of  carved  shields,  including  several  arms 
of  the  City  companies.  A  curious  old  house  which 
formerly  stood  in  the  Minories  is  shown  on  page 
252.  It  was  at  one  time  an  inn,  and  when  taken 
down  in  1793  the  timber-work  was  so  firmly  fixed 
together,  that  it  had  to  be  puTled  asunder  by  horses. 

In  1842  a  curious  group  of  three  seated  figures 
of  goddesses,  bearing  baskets  of  fruit  in  their  laps, 
were  discovered  in  digging  a  sewer  in  Hart  Street, 
Crutched  Friars.  The  group  is  now  at  the  GuildhaU. 

The  House  of  Crutched  Friars,  or  Friars  of  the 
Holy  Cross,  at  the  corner  of  Hart  Street,  was 
founded  by  Ralph  Hosiar  and  William  Sabemes, 
about  the  year  1298.  The  founders  themselves 
became  friars  of  the  order,  and  to  them  Stephen, 
the  tenth  prior  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  granted  three 
tenements  for  13s.  8d.  In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII. 
the  Crutched  Friars  solicited  the  City  magistrates  to 
take  the  establishment  under  their  patronage.  At 
the  dissolution  the  watchful  emissaries  of  Cromwell 
caught  the  Prior  of  Crutched  Yxvsx^  flagrante  delicto, 
and  down  at  once  went  the  king's  hammer  upon 
the  corrupt  little  brotherhood.  The  church  was 
turned  into  a  carpenter's  yard  and  a  tennis-court, 
and  the  friars'  hall  eventually  became  a  glass-house. 
On  the  4th  of  September,  1575,  Stow  says,  a 
,  terrible  fire  burst  out  there  that  destroyed  all 
but  the  stone  walls."  Turner  dedicatQji  his  folio 
"Herbal"  (1568)  to  Queen  Elizabeth  from  this 
plac§. 


The  great -benefactor  to  the  Crutched  Friars  was 
Sir  John  Milbome,  who  was  buried  in  their  church. 
This  worthy  draper,  mayor  in  the  year  1521,  was 
the  founder  of  certain  Drapers'  Ahnshouses  in  the 
parish  of  St.  Olave's,  close  to  the  old  priory.  The 
will,  given  by  Strype,  is  a  curious  exemplification 
of  the  funeral  customs  of  the  old  religion,  and  of 
the  superstitions  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  By 
the  last  testament  of  Sir  John,  his  thirteen  bedes- 
men from  the  adjoining  almshouses  were  required 
to  come  daily  to  the  church  and  hear  mass  said  or 
sung  near  the  tomb  of  their  benefactor,  at  eight 
a.m.,  at  Our  Lady's  altar  in  the  middle  aisle;  and 
before  the  said  mass  the  thirteen  bedesmen,  one  of 
them  standing  right  over  against  the  other  and 
encompassing  the  tomb,  were  severally,  two  and 
two  of  them  together,  to  say  the  "  De  Profundis," 
and  a  paternoster,  ave,  and  creed,  with  the  collect 
thereunto  belonging ;  and  those  who  could  not  say 
the  "  De  Profundis"  were  required  to  say  a  pater- 
noster, ave,  and  creed  for  the  souls  of  Sir  John  and 
Dame  Johan,  and  Margaret,  Sir  John's  first  wife, 
and  the  souls  of  their  fathers,  mothers,  children,  and 
friends,  and  for  "  all  Christian  souls."  A  good  and 
comprehensive  benediction,  it  cannot  be  denied. 

The  inmates  of  the  Drapers'  Almshouses  received 
2S.  4d.  a  month,  the  first  day  of  every  month,  for 
ever.  The  bedesmen  were  to  be  of  honest  con- 
versation, and  not  detected  in  any  open  crime. 
They  were  forbidden  to  sell  ale,  beer,  or  wine,  "or 
any  other  thing  concerning  tippling."  Over  the 
gate  of  Milborne's  Almshouses,  says  Strype,  there 
was  "a  four-square  stone,  with  the  figure  of  the 
Assumption  of  our  Blessed  Lady,  supported  by  six 
angels  in  a  cloud  of  glory."  Sir  Richard  Champion,- 
mayor  and  draper,  in  EHzabeth's  reign,  gave 
;£^i9  14s.  a  year  to  these  same  bedesmen.  He 
also  desired  that  every  Sunday  thirteen  penny 
loaves  of  white  bread  should  be  given  to  thirteen 
poor  people  at  the  churches  of  St.  Edmund,  Lom- 
bard Street,  and  St.  Michael's,  Comhill.  He  also 
gave  the  poor  of  each  parish  one  load  of  charcoal 
(thirty  sacks)  every  year;  and  to  carry  out  these 
bequests,  he  left  the  Drapers'  Company  twenty- 
three  messuages  and  eighteen  garden-plots  in  the 
parish  of  St.  Olave's,  Hart  Street.  But  Anthony 
Munday  denies  these  last  bequests,  and  thinks  that 
Stow  unintentionally  slandered  the  Drapers'  Com- 
pany, by  asserting  that  the  terms  of  the  will  had 
not  been  carried  out.  Lord  Lumle/s  house,  built 
by  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII., 
adjoined  these  almshouses,  and  not  far  off  was  the 
house  of  the  prior  of  Horn  Church,  in  Essex, 
Northumberland  House ;  and  Poor  Jewry,  a  small 
district  of  Jews, 


Islington,] 


ARCHERY  AT  ISLINGTON. 


251 


CHAPTER     XXXI. 

ISLINGTON. 

Etymology  of  the  Word  "Islington" — Beauty  of  the  Place  in  Early  Times— The^old  Northern  Roads — ^Archery  at  Islington — A  Royal  Patron  of 
Archery — ^The  Archers'  Marks— The  "  Robin  Hood" — Topham,  the  Strong  Man — Llewellyn  and  the  Welsh  Barons — Algernon  Percy's 
Hous« — Reformers'  Meeting  at  the  "Saracen's  Head" — Queen  Elizabeth  and  the  Islington  Beggars — Later  Royal  Visitors  to  Islington — 

Citizens*  Pleasure  Parties — Cream  and  Cake — Outbreak  of  the  Plague — Bunbury  and  the  "  New  Paradise  " — ^The  old  "Queen's  Head" 

"The  London  Hospital  "—Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  HoUse— The  old  "  Pied  Bull  "—The  "  Angel." 


No  satisfactory  etymology  of  the  word  "  Islington" 
has  yet  been  given.  By  some  writers  the  name 
is  supposed  to  have  been  derived  from  the  Saxon 
word  isen  (iron),  from  certain  springs,  impreg- 
nated with  iron,  supposed  to  have  their  rise  in 
the  neighbourhood.  Others  trace  it  to  the  Saxon 
word  eisel  (a  hostage),  without  ever  condescend- 
ing to  explain  what  hostages  had  to  do  with 
Islington.  The  more  favoured  supposition  is  that 
the  village  was  originally  called  "  Ishel,"  an  old 
British  word  signifying  "lower,"  and  "dun,"  or 
"  don,"  the  usual  term  for  a  town  or  fortress.  It 
might  have  been  so  called,  Mr.  Lewis  thinks,  to 
contrast  it  with  Tolentone,  a  village  built  on  the 
elevated  ground  adjoining  the  woods  of  Highbury. 
The  germ  of  the  Islington  of  the  Britons,  it  is 
generally  allowed,  must  have  been  along  the  east 
side  of  the  Lower  Street. 

Islington  is  supposed  to  have  been  situated  on 
the  great  northern  Roman  road  called  the  Ermin, 
or  Herman  Street,  which  left  London  by  Cripple- 
gate,  and  passed  through  Islington,  though,  as 
some  antiquaries  think,  the  Roman  road  really  inter- 
sected Old  Street,  and,  crossing  the  City  Road, 
passed  by  Highbury  and  Homsey  Wood,  and  con- 
tinued by  way  of  the  green  lanes  towards  Enfield. 

Fitzstephen,  the  friend  of  Becket,  writing,  be- 
tween 1 170  and  II 82,  speaking  of  the  north  of 
London,  aays,  "  On  the  north  are  fields  for  pas- 
tures, and  open  meadows,  very  pleasant,  into  which 
the  river  waters  do  flow,  and  mills  are  turned  about 
with  a  delightful  noise.  The  arable  lands  are  no 
hungry  pieces  of  gravel  ground,  but  like  the  rieh 
|elds  of  Asia,  which  bring  plentiful  com,  and  fill 
me  barns  of  the  owners  with  a  dainty  crop  of  the 
fruits  of  Ceres."  Still  "  beyond  them  an  immense 
forest  extends  itself,  beautified  with  woods  and 
groves,  and  full  of  the  lairs  and  coverts  of  beasts 
and  game,  stags,  bucks,  boars,  and  wild  bulls."  In 
later  centuries  Islington  became  the  pasture-ground 
of  London. 

The  old  highways  and  rpads  connected  with 
Islington  were  very  badly  kept,  and  ex:tremely  in- 
commodious. Formerly  the  avenues  leading  to  the 
village  from  the  metropolis^  exclusive  of  the  foot- 


paths over  the  fields,  were  confined  to  the  road 
from  Smithfield,  through  St.  John  Street ;  the  Gos- 
well  Street  road,  from  Aldersgate;  and  a  bridle 
way  that  had  once  been  an  old  Roman  road:  all 
these  were  frequently  impassable  in  winter.  The 
broad  green  fields  that  stretched  from  Finsbury  to 
Hoxton  and  Islington  seem  to  liave  been  recog- 
nised as  the  Campus  Martius  of  London  as  early 
as  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  for  Fitzstephen  describes, 
with  more  unction  than  an  ascetic  monk  might 
be  expected  to  manifest,  the  scholars  of  the  City 
going  to  the  northern  fields  with  their  teachers, 
to  play  at  ball,  while  the  old  and  wealthy  citizens 
came  on  horseback  to  watch  the  merry  conflict  of 
the  lads.  He  also  mentions  the  military  exercises 
on  horseback,  good  training  for  war  or  the  tourna- 
ment, every  Friday  in  Lent.;  while  other  citizens, 
more  intent  on  their  own  amusement,  he  says, 
carried  their  hawks  on  their  fists,  or  took  out  their 
dogs  there,  to  have  a  turn  or  two  after  a  hare. 

Archery  was  early  practised  in  these  pleasant 
northern  fields,  and  here  men  shot  the  shafts  that 
were  hereafter  to  be  aimed  at  Frenchmen's  hearts. 
As  early  as  the  reign  of  Edward  III.  the  royal  will 
was  proclaimed  that  every  able-bodied  citizen  was 
in  his  leisure  hours  and  on  all  holidays,  to  practise 
with  bows  or  crossbows,  and  not  to  waste  his  time 
in  throwing  stones,  or  at  football,  handball,  bandy, 
or  cock-fighting,  which  were  vain  and  profitless 
plays;  while  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  an  Act 
was  passed  to  oblige  all  men-servants  to  exercise 
themselves  with  bows  and  arrows  at  all  times  of 
leisurd,  and  on  all  Sundays  and  holidays. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIIL,  that  manly  and  war- 
like king,  who  was  himself  an  archer,  several  Acts 
were  passed  to  promote  the  practice  of  archery. 
Every  father  was  enjoined  to  provide  a  bow  and 
two  arrows  for  his  son,  when  he  reached  his  seventh 
year;  and  all  persons,  except  the  clergy  and  judges, 
were  obliged  to  shoot  periodically  at  the  butts, 
which  were  nowhere  more  numerous  than  in  the 
fields  towards  Islington.  Three  gentlemen  of  the 
Court  were  Constituted,  overseers  of  the  science  of 
artillery — to  wit,  of  longbows,  crdssbows,  and  hand- 
guns— and  leave  was  given  them^  as  a  body  cor- 


252 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Islington. 


porate,  to  practice  shooting  at  all  manner  of  marks 
and  butts,  and  at  fowls,  and  the  game  of  the 
popinjay  in  the  City  and  suburbs,  and  all  other 
places.  And  when  any  member  of  .this  society, 
shooting  at  well-known  and  accustomed  marks, 


says  the  chronicler  Hall,  the  young  men  of  London, 
finding  the  fields  about  Islington,  Hoxton,  and 
Shoreditch  getting  more  and  more  enclosed  wjth 
hedges  and  ditches,  and  that  neither  the  old  men 
could  walk  for  their  pleasure,  nor  lads  shoot  without 


THE  OLD  "fountain,"  IN  THE  MiNORiES.     {From  a  View  by  N.  Smith,  1798.) 


and  used  the  usual  caution-word  of  archers,  "  Fast," 
they  could  not  be  impeached  or  troubled  by  the 
relations  of  any  passer-by  slain  at  misadventure.  It 
was  in  these  fields  the  king's  favourite  archer,  Barlow, 
christened  by  him  "the  Duke  of  Shoreditch,"  and 
the  Marquis  of  Islington  and  the  Earl  of  Pancras, 
his  skilful  companions,  made  their  cleverest  hits,  and 
in  Hoxton  Fields  took  place  that  great  procession 
of  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch  and  his  3,000  archers 
and  200  torch-bearers.   In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII., 


getting  their  bows  and  arrows  taken  away  or  broken, 
a  riot  arose.  One  morning  a  turner,  dressed  as  a 
jester,  led  a  mob  through  the  City  shouting  "  Shovels 
and  spades  !  shovels  and  spades  !"  So  many  of  the 
people  followed,  that  it  was  a  wonder  to  behold ; 
and  within  a  short  space  all  the  hedges  about  the 
City  were  cast  down  and  the  ditches  filled  up.  The 
rioters  thea  quietly  dispersed.  "  After  which,"  Hall 
says,  with  gusto,  "  those  fields  were  never  hedged." 
In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  archery  seems  to  have 


,'  Islington.] 


THE   OLD   BOWMEN   OF   FINSBURY  FIELDS. 


253 


been  on  the  decline,  though  good  old  Stow  describes 
the  citizens  as  still  frequenting  the  northern  fields, 
"  to  walk,  shoot,  and  otherwise  recreate  and  refresh 
their  dulled  spirits  in  the  sweet  and  wholesome  air,'' 
and  mentions  that  of  old  it  was  the  custom  for  the 


Stow  we  gather  that  the  increased  enclosures  had 
driven  the  archers  into  bowling-alleys  and  gambhng- 
houses. 

James  I.,  in  1605,  finding  archery  still  on  the 
decline,  though  many  of  his  best  soldiers  preferred 


THE  OLD  "  queen's  HEAD  "  TAVERN. 


officers  of  the  City — ^namely,  the  sheriffs,  the  porters 
of  the  Weigh  House,  and  all  others — to  be  chal- 
lengers of  all  men  in  the  suburbs  to  wrestle,  "  shoot 
the  standard,  broad  arrow  and  flight,"  for  games, 
at  Clerkenwell  and  in  Finsbury  Fields.  In  1570, 
however,  we  find  the  London  bowyers,  fletchers, 
stringers,  and  arrow-head  makers  petitioning  the 
Lord  Treasurer  concerning  their  decayed  con- 
dition, by  reason  of  the  discontinuance  of  archery, 
and  the  practice  of  unlawful  games ;  and  from 
70— Vol.  II. 


bows  to  guns,  still  issued  letters  patent  to  several  dis- 
tinguished persons,  and  among  them  to  Sir  Thomas 
Fowler,  of  Islington,  to  survey  all  the  open  grounds 
within  two  miles  of  the  City,  and  to  see  that  they 
were  put  in  proper  oirder  for  the  exercise  of  the 
City,  as  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  Charles  I. 
published  a  similar  edict,  ordering  all  mounds  to  be 
lowered  that  obstructed  the  archers'"view  from  one 
mark  to  another.  There  were  indeed  at  this  time, 
or  a  little  later,  no  less  than  160  marks  set  up  in 


254 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Islington. 


the  Finsbury  Fields,  each  duly  registered  by  name. 
These  marks,  placed  at  varying  distances,  to 
accustom  tlie  archers  to  judge  the  distance,  are 
all  named  in  a  curious  old  tract,  entitled  "  Ayme 
for  Finsbury  Archers,"  published  at  the  "Swan"  in 
Grub  Street,  in  1594,  and  several  times  reprinted. 
Among  them  we  find  the  following  quaint  titles, 
suggestive  of  old  nicknames,  lucky  shots,  and  bow- 
men's jokes  : — Sir  Rowland,  Lurching,  Nelson, 
Martin's  Mayflower,  Dunstan's  Darling,  Bes wick's 
Stake,  Lambert's  Goodwill,  Lee's  Leopard,  Thief 
in  the  Hedge,  Mildma/s  Rose,  Silkworm,  Lee's 
Lion.  Goodly  shots,  no  doubt,  these  marks  had 
recorded,  and  pleasant  halts  they  had  been  for  the 
Finsbury  bowmen  of  old  time. 

The  dainty  archers  of  the  present  day  can 
scarcely  believe  the  strength  of  the  old  yew  bows, 
or  the  length  of  the  arrows,  and  are  apt  to  be 
incredulous  of  the  pith  of  their  ancestors'  shafts. 
Nevertheless,  the  statute  of  the  thirty-third  year  of 
Henry  VIII.  distinctly  lays  down  that  men  of  the 
age  of  twenty-four  were  prohibited  from  shooting  at 
any  mark  under  two  hundred  and  twenty  yards  j 
and  the  longest  distance  of  that  stalwart  epoch 
seems  to  have  been  nineteen  score,  or  three 
hundred  and  eighty  yards. 

During  the  Cromwell  time  archery  seems  to 
have  been  deemed  unpractical,  and  was  not  much 
enforced.  The  old  ways,  however,  revived  with 
Charles  II.,  and  in  1682  there  was  a  great  cavalcade 
to  the  Finsbury  Fields,  at  which  the  king  himself 
was  present,  and  the  old  titles  of  the  Duke  of  Shore- 
ditch  and  Marquis  of  Islington  were  bestowed  on 
the  best  shots.  On  a  Finsbury  archer's  ticket  for 
the  shooting  of  1676,  all  lovers  of  archery  are  in- 
vited to  meet  at  Drapers'  Hall,  in  Throgmorton 
Street;  and  it  is  noted  that  the  eleven  score 
targets  would  be  set  up  in  the  new  Artillery  Ground. 
It  was  in  this-  year  that  the  great  archer,  "Sir" 
William  Wood,  .was  presented  with  a  silver  badge. 
This  stout  bowman  was  eventually  buried  in  Clerken- 
well  Church,  with  archers'  honours.  Sir  William 
Davenant,  in  his  playful  poem  of  "The  Long 
Vacation  in  London,"  describes  the  attorneys  shoot- 
ing against  the  proctors,  and  thus  sketches,  the 
citizen  archer  of  those  days^ 

"  Each  with  solemn  oath  agree 
To  meet  in  fields  of  Finsburie  ; 
With  loynes  in  canvas  bow-case  tyde, 
Where  arrows  stick  with  mjckle  pride  ; 
With  hats  pin'd  up,  and  bow  in  hand, 
AH  day  most  fiercely  there  they  stand. 
Like  ghosts  of  Adam  Bell  and  Clymme, 
Sol  sets,  for  fear  they'll  shoot  at  him." 

Up  to  the  last  edition  of  the  Map  of  Archers' 
Marks  in  1738,  the  fields  from  Peerless  Pool  to 


northward  of  the  "Rosemary  Branch"  are  studded 
with  "roving"  marks,  generally  wooden  pillars, 
crowned  by  some  emblem,  such  as  a  bird  or  a  circle. 
The  last  great  meeting  of  Islington  archers  was 
in   1 79 1,  at  Blackheath,  when  the  archers'  com- 
pany of  the  Honourable  Artillery  Company  con- 
tended with  the  Surrey  and  Kentish  bowmen,  the 
Hainault  Foresters,  the  Woodmen  of  Arden,  the 
Robin  Hood  Society,  &c.     Several  times  in  the  last 
century  the  Artillery  Company  asserted  their  old 
archer  privileges,  and  replaced  the  marks  which 
had  been  removed  by  encroachers.     In  1782  they 
forced  the  gate  of  a  large  field  in  which  stood  one 
of  their  stone  marks,  close  to   Balls  Pond;  and 
in  1786  they  ordered  obstructions  to  be  removed 
between  Peerless  P60I,  south,  Baume's  Pond,  north, 
Hoxton,  east,  and  Islington,  west.     In  the  same 
year  they  threatened  to  pull  down  part  ot  a  wall 
erected  by  the  proprietors   of  a  white-lead  mill, 
between  the  marks  of  Bob  Peak  and  the  Levant. 
One  of  tTie  partners  of  the  works,  however,  induced 
them  to  desist;  but  a  member  of  the  archers' division 
shot  an  arrow   over  the   enclosure,  to  assert  the 
Company's  right. '    In  1791,  when  the  long  butts  at 
Islington  Common  were  destroyed  by  gravel-diggers, 
the  Artillery  Company  also  required  the  marks  to 
be  replaced.     In  1842,  of  all  the  old  open  ground 
there  only  remained  a  few  acres  to  the  north  of  the 
City  Road. 

An  old  public-house  fronting  the  fields  at  Hoxton, 
and  called  the  "  Robin  Hood,"  was  still  existing  in 
Nelson's  time  (1811).  It  had  been  a  great  place 
of  resort  for  the  Finsbury  archers,  and  under  the 
sign  was  the  following  inscription : — 

"  Ye  archers  bold  and  yeomen  good. 
Stop  and  drink  with  Robin  Hood; 
If  Robin  Hood  is  not  at  home, 
Stop  and  drink  with  Little  John." 

There  is  a  traditional  story  that  Topham,  the 
strong  man  of  Islington,  was  once  challenged  by 
some  Finsbury  archers  whom  lie  had  ridiculed  to 
draw  an  arrow  two-thirds  of  its  length.  The  bet 
was  a  bowl  of  punch ;  but  Topham,  though  he 
drew  the  shaft  towards  his  breast,  instead  of  his 
ear,  after  many  fruitless  efforts,  lost  the  wager. 

The  historical  recollections  of  Islington  are  not 
numerous.  One  of  the  earliest  is  connected  with 
the  visit  of  Llewellyn  and  his  Welsh  barons,  who 
in  the  reign  of  Edward  I.  came  to  London  to 
pay  homage  to  the  king.  Thejj  were  quartered  at 
Islington,  but  they  disliked  our  wine,  ale,  and 
bread,  and  could  not  obtain  milk  enough.  More- 
over, their  Welsh  pride  was  disgusted  at  being  so 
stared  at  by  the  Londoners,  on  account  of  their 
uncommon  dress."    "We  will  never  visit  Islington 


Islington.! 


ROYAL    GLORIES    OF    ISLINGTON. 


255 


again  except  as  conquerors,"  they  cried,  and  from 
that  instant  resolved  to  take  up  arms.  In  1465, 
Henry  VI.,  who  had  been  captured  in  Lancashire, 
was  brought  to  London  with  his  legs  bound 
to  his  horse's  stirrups.  At  Islington  he  was  met 
by  his  great  enemy,  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  re- 
moved his  gilt  spurs  contemptuously,  and  hurried 
him  to  the  Tower.  Edward  IV,,  on  the  occasion 
of  his  accession  to  the  throne,  was  welcomed  be- 
tween Islington  and  Shoreditch  by  the  Lord  Mayor 
and  aldermen  of  London,  some  of  whom  he 
knighted.  In  the  same  manner  the  crafty  King 
Henry  VII.,  on  his  return  from  the  overthrow  of 
Lambert  Simqel,  was  met  in  Homsey  Park  by  the 
mayor,  aldermen,  sheriffs,  and  principal  commoners, 
all  on  horseback  in  oiie  livery,  when  he  dubbed 
the  mayor.  Sir  William  Horn,  knight,  and  between 
Islington  and  London  knighted  Alderman  Sir  John 
Percivall. 

Henry  VIII.  frequently'  visited  Islington,  to  call 
on  noblemen  of  his  court,  for  Dudley,  Earl  of  War- 
wick, held  the  manor  of  Stoke  Newington ;  and 
Algernon  Percy,  Earl  of  Northumberland,  occupied 
a. mansion  on  Newington  Green.  From  this  house 
we  find  the  earl  writing  in  an  alarmed  way  to 
Secretary  Cromwell,  vowing  that  he  had  never  pro- 
posed marriage  to  Anne  Boleyn.  The  earl,  who  died 
the  year  after,  is  supposed  to  have  left  the  house  in 
which  he  lived,  and  one  on  the  south  side  of  Newing- 
ton Green,  to  the  king,  who  resided  for  some  time  in 
the  first,  and  employed  the  other  for  the  use  of  his 
household.  From  this  country  palace  of  Henry  VIII. 
a  pathway  leading  from  the  comer  of  Newington 
Green,  to  the  turnpike  road  at  Ball's  Pond,  became 
known  as  "  King  Harry's  Walk."  Game  was  plentiful 
about  Islington,  and  by  a  proclamation  dated  1546 
the  king  prohibited  all  hunting  and  hawking  of 
hares,  partridges,  pheasants,  and  heron,  from  "West- 
minster to  St.  Giles-in-the-Fields,  and  from  thence 
to  Islington,  to  Our  Lady  of  the  Oak,  to  Highgate, 
to  Homsey  Park,  and  to  Hampstead  Heath." 

In  1557,  during  Queen  Mary's  hunting  down  of 
Protestants,  a  small  congregation  of  Reformers,  who 
had  assembled  at  the  "  Saracen's  Head,"  Islington, 
under  pretext  of  attending  a  play,  were  betrayed 
by  a  treacherous  tailor,  arrested  by  the  Queen's 
vice-chamberlain,  and  thrown  into  prison.  The 
most  eminent  of  these  persecuted  men  was  John 
Rough,  who  had  been  a  preacher  among  the  Black 
Friars  at  StirHng,  chaplain  to  the  Earl  of  Arran,  and 
the  means  of  persuading  John  Knox  to  enter  the 
ministry.  He  was  burnt  at  the  stake  at  Smithfield, 
and  four  of  the  others  perished  praising  God  in 
one  fire  at  Ishngton.  But  there  is  the  old  saying, 
"The'blood  of  martyrs  is  the  seed  of  the  Church." 


Only  the  next  year  forty  "  godly  and  innocent  per- 
sons," who  had  assembled  in  "  a  back  close  in  the 
field  by  the  town  of  Islington  "  to  pray  and  medi- 
tate, were  apprehended  by  the  constables,  bowmen, 
and  billmen.  All  but  twenty-seven  escaped,  and 
of  tRese  twenty-two  lay  in  Newgate  seven  weeks 
before  they  were  examined,  though  offered  pardon 
if  they  would  consent  to  hear  a  mass.  "Eventually," 
says  >Foxe,  in  his  "Acts  and  Monuments,"  "seven 
were  burnt  in  Smithfield  and  sk  at  Brentford." 

Queen  Elizabeth  seems  to  have  been  partial  to 
Islington,  paying  frequent  visits  to  Sir  Thomas 
Fowler  and  to  Sir  John  Spencer  of  Canonbury 
House.  In  1561  she  made  a  grand  tour  of  the 
east  of  London  which  took  several  days.  From 
the  Tower  she  first  visited  Houndsditch  and  Spitat 
fields,,  thence  went  through  the  fields  to  Charter- 
house, and  in  a  few  days  continued  her  route  back 
to  the  Savoy  and  thence  to  Enfield.  On  her  return 
to  St.  James's  as  she  passed  through  Islington, 
hedges  were  cut  down  and  ditches  filled  up  to 
quicken  her  progress  across  the  fields.' 

In  1581,  the  queen,  riding  by  Aldersgate  Bars 
towards  the  Islington  Fields  to  take  the  air,  was 
environed  by  a  crowd  of  sturdy  beggars,  which  gave 
the  queen  much  disturbance.  That  same  evening 
Fleetwood,  the  Recorder,  had  the  fields  scoured,  and 
apprehended  seventy-four  rogues,  some  blind,  "  yet 
great  usurers,  and  very  rich."  The  strongest  of  the 
seventy-four  "  they  bestowed  in  the  milne  and  the 
lighters." 

'  In  the  great  entertainment  given  at  Kenilworth 
by  the  Earl  of  Leicester  to  Queen  Elizabeth  in  1 5  7  5 , 
a  minstrel  discoursed  with  tiresome  minuteness  on 
the  Islington  dairies,  that  supplied  London  bridal 
parties  with  furmenty,  not  over-sodden,  for  porridge, 
unchalked  milk  for  "  flawnery,"  unadulterated  cream 
for  custards,  and  pure  fresh  butter  for  pasties.  The 
arms  of  Islington,  it  was  proposed,  should  be  three 
milk  tankards  proper  on  a  field  of  clouted  cream, 
three  green  cheeses  upon  a  shelf  of  cake  bread, 
a.  furmenty  bowl,  stuck  with  hbrn  spoons,  and,  for 
supporters,  a. grey  mare  (used  to  carry  the  milk 
tankards)  and  her  silly  foal;  the  motto,  "Lac 
caseus  infans,"  or  "  Fresh  cheese  and  cream,"  the 
mUkwives  cry  in  London  streets. 

The  ill-starred  Earl  of  Essex,  on  his  way  to  Ire- 
land, where  he  was  to  sweep  away  rebellion  by  a 
wave  of  his  hand,  passed  through  Islington  with 
his  gay  and  hopeful  train  of  noblemen  and  genrie- 
men,  returning  only  to  become  himself  a  rebel,  and 
to  end  his  days  on  the  Tower  Hill  block. 

In  1603,  when  James  I.,  with  all  his  hungry 
Scotch  courtiers,  rode  into  London,  he  was  met 
at  Stam&rd  Hill  by  the  Lord  Mayor,  aldenpen, 


256 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Islineton. 


and  500  of  the  principal  citizens,  who  escorted 
him  through  the  Islington  Fields  to  the  Charter- 
house. He  passed  along  the  Upper  Street,  which 
was  for  a  short  time  after  known  as  King  Street. 

Charles  I.,  on  his  return  from  Scotland  in  1641, 
passed  through  Islington,  accompanied  by  his 
queen,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  the  Duke  of 
York.  In  the  following  year  the  Committee  of  the 
London  Militia  gave  orders  to  fortify  the  approaches 
to  the  City,  and  in  1643  the  entrenchment  began 
in  earnest,  the  Trained  Band  citizens,  and  even 
their  wives  and  children,  toiling  at  the  work.  The 
trades  volunteered  by  turns.  One  day  there  were 
5,000  felt-makers  and  Cappers,  and  nearly  3,000 
porters ;  another  day,  4,000  or  5,000  shoemakers ; 
and  a  third  day,  6,000  taUors.  Several  of  the  works 
were  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Islington.  Therp  was 
a  breastwork  and  battery  at  Mount  Mill,  in  the 
Goswell  Street  Road,  another  at  the  end  of  St. 
John  Street,  a  large  fort,  with  four  half  bulwarks, 
at  the  New  River  Upper  Pond,  and  a  small  redoubt 
near  Islington  Pound. 

When  the  great  plot  to  assassinate  Cromwell 
was  detected,  in  1653,  Vbwell,  an  Islington  school- 
master, one  of  the  plotters,  was  hung  at  Charing 
Cross.  He  died  bravely,  crying  out  for  Church, 
King,  and  Restoration,  and  warning  the  soldiers 
of  their  dangerous  principles.  ■  Colonel  Okey, 
whom  Cromwell  compelled  to  sit  as  one  of  King 
Charles's  judges,  was  in  early  life  a  drayman  and 
stoker  at  an  Islington  brewery.  He  was  seized 
in  Holland,  after  the  Restoration,  and  executed 
in  1662.  A  curious  story  is  told  of  the  famous 
Parliamentary  general,  Skippon,  in  connection 
with  Islington.  This  tough  old  soldier  was  being 
brought  from  Naseby,  where  he  had  been  des- 
perately wounded.  As  his  horse  litter  was  passing 
through  Islington,  a  mastiff  sprang  at  one  of  the 
horses,  and  worried  him,  nor  would  he  let  go  till  a 
soldier  ran  him  through  with  his  sword.  Skippon, 
however,  on  getting  to  London,  had  a  piece  of  his 
waistcoat  drawn  from  his  bullet-wound,  and  soon 
recovered. 

For  m.any  ages  Islington,  especially  in  summer, 
was  a  favourite  resort  for  London  citizens,  who 
delighted  to  saunter  there  to  drink  creams  and  eat 
cakes,  or  to  hunt  the  ducks  of  the  suburban  ponds 
with  their  water-dogs.  As  early  as  1628,  George 
Wither,  the  poet,  in  his  "Britannia's  Remembrances," 
describing  holiday-making,  says — 

"  Some  by  the  banks  of  Thaines  their  pleasure  taking 
Some  sillibubs  among  the  milkmaids  making. 
With  music  some  upon  the  waters  rowing, 
Some  to  the  next  adjoining  hamlets  going  ; 
And  Hogsdone,  Islington  and  Tothnam  Court 
For  cakes  and  cream  }iad  there  lio  sniall  resort," 


Davenant  describes  very  pleasantly  in  rough 
verse  the  setting  out  of  a  citizen's  party  for 
Islington : — 

"Now  damsel  young,  that  dwells  in  Cheap, 
For  very  joy,  begins  to  leap  ; 
Her  elbow  small  she  oft  doth  rub, 
Tickled  with  hope  of  syllabub. 
For  mother  (who  does  gold  maintaine 
On  thumb,  and  keys  in  silver  chaine), 
In  snow-white  clout,  wrapt  nook  of  pye, 
Fat  capon's  wing,  and  rabbit's  thigh  ; 
And  said  to  Hackney  coachman,  go, 
Take  shillings  six— say,  I  or  no  ; 
Whither?  (says  he) — quoth  she,  thy  teame 
Shall  drive  to  place  where  groweth  creame. 

But  husband  grey,  now  comes  to  stall, 
For  'prentice  notch'd  he  strait  doth  call. 
.  Where's  dame  ?  (quoth  he) — quoth  son  of  shop, 
She's  gone  her  cake  in  milke  to  sop. 
Ho  !  ho  ! — to  Islington — enough — 
Fetch  Job  ray  son,  and  our  dog  Hujfe ; 
For  there,  in  pond,  through  mire  and  muck. 
We'll  cry,  hay,  duck — there  Jiuji — hay,  duck,"  &c. 

In  the  Merry  Milkmaid  of  Islington,  1681,  the 
prices  noted  down  are  highly  curious. 

Scene — Lo/uechange,  Sir  Jeffery  Jolt,  Ariezhim  (the  Lady 
yolt),  and  Tafster. 

Love,  What  is  the  reckoning  ? 

7s/.  Nine  and  elevenpence. 

yeff.  How's  that  ?  Let's  have  the  particulars,  Mr.  Love- 
change  shall  know  how  he  parts  with  his  money. 

Tap.  Why,  sir,  cakes  two  shillings,  ale  as  much  ;  a  quart 
of  mortified  claret  eighteen  pence,  stewed  prunes  a  shilling. 

Art.  That's  too  dear. 

Tap.  Truly,  they  cost  a  penny  a  pound  of  the  one-handed 
costermonger,  out  of  his  wife's  fish-basket.  A  quart  of  cream 
half-a-crown. 

Art.  That's  excessive. 

Tap.  Not  if  you  consider  how  many  carriers'  eggs  mis- 
carried in  the  making  of  it,  and  the  charge  of  isinglass,  and 
other  ingredients,  to  make  cream  of  the  sour  milk.        ' 

Art.  AH  this  does  not  amount  to  what  you  Remand. 

Tap.  I  can  make  more.  Two  threepenny  papers  of  sugar 
a  shilling  ;  then  you  had  bread,  sir —  ^ 

Jeff.  Yes,  and  drink  too,  sir — my  head  takes  notice  of 
that. 

Tap.  'Tis  granted,  sir — a  pound  of  sausages,  and  forty 
other  things,  make  it  right.     Our  bar  never  errs. 

The  Ducking-ponds  were  on  Islington  Green,  near 
White  Conduit  House  in  the  Back  Road,  and  in 
East  Lane,  the  spot  where  the  Reservoir  of  the 
New  River  Head  afterwards  stood,  Thomas  Jor- 
dan, in  a  coarse  comedy  called  The  Walks  of 
Islington  and  Hogsden,  with  the  HumouH  of  Wood 
Street  Compter,  1 641,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid 
at  the  "  Saracen's  Head,"'  Islington,  and  his  Pro- 
logue  speaks  of  the  diet  of  the  place,  and  the 
sort  of  persons  who  went  there  for  amusement 

"  Though  the  scene  be  Islington,  we  swear 
■yVe  will  not  blow  y^  up  with  bottle  beer, 


Islington.] 


"THE  NEW  PARADISE." 


257 


Cram  ye  with  creams  and  fools  which  sweetly  please 
Ladies  of  fortune  and  young  'prentices, 
Who  (when  the  supervisors  come  to  find  'um) 
Quake  like  the  custard,  which  they  leave  behind  'um." 

Browne,' in  his  "  New  Academy,"  1658,  alludes 
to  the  "  Cream  and  Cake  Boys  "  who  took  their 
lasses  to  Islington  or  Hogsden  to  feast  on  white 
pots,  puddings,  pies,  stewed  prunes,  and  tansies. 

The  plague  seems  to  have  raged  at  Ishngton 
in  the  years  1577,  1578,  and  1592.  In  1665 
593  persons  died  of  the  plague.  The  story  of 
the  first  outbreak  is  told  graphically  in  the  "  City 
Remembrancer."  A  citizen  had  broken  out  of 
his  house  in  Aldersgate  Street,  and  had  applied  in 
vain  for  admission  at  the  "Angel"  and  the  "White 
Horse,"  in  Islington.  At  the  "Pied  Horse"  he 
pretended  to  be  entirely  free  from  infection,  and 
on  his  way  to  Lincolnshire,  and  that  '  he  only 
required  lodgings  for  one  night.  They  had  but 
a  garret  bed  empty,  and  that  but  for  one 
night,  expecting  drovers  with  cattle  next  day.  A 
servant  showed  him  the  room,  which  he  gladly 
accepted.  He  was  well  dressed,  and  with  a  sigh 
said  he  had  seldom  lain  in  such  a  lodging,  but 
would  make  a  shift,  as  it  was  but  for  one  night,  and 
in  a  dreadful  time.  He  sat  down  on  the  bed, 
desiring  a  pint  of  warm  ale,  which  was  forgot. 
Next  morning  one  asked  what  had  become  of  the 
gentleman.  The  maid,  starting,  said  she  had  never 
thought  more  of  him.  "  He  bespoke  warm  ale,  but 
I  forgot  it."  A  person  going  lip,  found  him  dead 
across  the  bed,  in  a  most  fiightful  posture.  His 
clothes  were  pulled  off,  his  jaw  fallen,  his  eyes  open, 
and  the  rug  of  the  bed  clasped  hard  in  one  hand. 
The  alarm  was  great,  the  place  having  been  free 
from  the  distemper,  which  spread  immediately  to 
the  houses  round  about.  Fourteen  died  of  the 
plague  that  week  in  Islington. 

Cromwell  is  said  to  have  resided  in  a  house 
(afterwards  the  "  Crown"  public  housfe)  on  the  north 
side  of  the  road  at  Upper  HoUoway,  but  there  is 
no  proof  of  the  fact.  He  probably,  however,  often 
visited  Islington  to  call  on  his  friend  Sir  Arthur 
Haselrigge,  colonel  of  a  regiment  of  cuirassiers, 
called  the  "Lobster"  regiment,  who  had  a  house 
there.  In  May,  1664-5,  Sir  Arthur  complained  to 
Parliament  that  as  he  was  riding  from  the  House  of 
Commons  in  the  road  leading  from  Perpoole  Lane 
to  Clerkenwell,  returning  to  his  house  at  Islington, 
the  Earl  of  Stamford  and  his  two  servants  had 
struck  at  him  with  a  drawn  sword  and  "other 
offensive  instruments,"  upon  which  he  was  enjoined 
to  keep  the  peace,  and  neither  send  nor  receive  any 
challenge. 

In  later  times  Islington  still  remained  renowned 


for  its  tea-gardens  and  places  of  rustic  amusement, 
and  in  the  Spleen,  or  Islington  Spa,  a  comic  piece, 
written  by  George  Colman,  and  acted  at  Drury  Lane 
in  1756,  the  author  sketches  pleasantly  enough  the 
bustle  occasioned  by  a  citizen's  family  preparing 
to  start  for  their  country  house  at  Islington.  The 
neats'  tongues  and  cold  chickens  have  to  be  packed 
up  preparatory  to  the  party  starting  in  the  coach  and 
three  from  the  end  of  Cheapside.  It  was  here  and 
at  Highbury  that  Goldsmith  spent  many  of  his 
"  shoemaker's  holidays,"  and  Bonnell  Thornton  has 
sketched  in  the  Connoisseur  the  Sunday  excursions 
of  the  citizens  of  his  times,  in  which  he  had  no 
doubt  shared. 

Bunbury,  that  clever  but  slovenly  draftsman, 
produced,  in  1772,  a  caricature  of  a  London  citizen 
in  his  country  villa,  and  called  it  "  The  delights  of 
Islington."  Above  it  he  has  written  the  following 
series  of  fierce  threats  : — 

"  Whereas  my  new  p^oda  has  been  clandestinely  carried 
off,  and  a  new  pair  of  dolphins  taken  from  the  top  of  my 
gazebo  by  some  bloodthirsty  villains,  and  whereas  a  great 
deal  of  timber  has  been  cut  down  and  carried  away  from 
Hoe' Old  Grove,  that  was  planted  last'  spring,  andiVafeand 
Proserpine  thrown  into  my  basin,  from  henceforth  steel  traps 
and  spring-guns  will  be  constantly"  set  for  the  better  extirpa- 
tion of  such  a  nest  of  villains. 

"Byrne, 
"Jeremiah  Sago." 

On  a  garden  notice-board,  in  another  print  after 
Bunbury,  of  the  same  date,  is  this  inscription  :  — 

"THE  NEW  PARADISE. 

"No  gentlemen  or  ladies  to  be  admitted  vidth  nails  in 
their  shoes." 

Danger'lent  a  certain  dignity  to  these  excursions. 
In  1739  the  roads  and  footpaths  of  Islington  seem 
to  have  been  infested  by  highwaymen  and  footpads, 
the  hornets  and  mosquitoes  of  those  days.  In  the 
year  above  mentioned,  the  Islington  Vestry  agreed 
to  pay  a  reward  of  ;^  10  to  any  person  who  appre- 
hended a  robber.  It  was  customary  at  this  time 
for  persons  walking  from  the  Cijy  to  Islington  after 
dark  to  wait  at  the  end  of  St.  John  Street  till  a 
sufficient  number  had  collected,  and  then  to  be 
escorted  by  an  armed  patrol.  Even  in  1742  the 
London  Magazine  observed  that  scarcely  a  night 
passed  without  some  one  .being  robbed  between 
the  "Turk's  Head,"  near  Wood's  Close,  Islington, 
and  the  road  leading  to  Goswell  Street.  In  1771 
the  inhabitants  of  Islington  subscribed  a  sum 
of  money  for  rewarding  persons  apprehending 
robbers,  as  many  dwellings  had  been  broken  open, 
and  the  Islington  stage  was  frequently  stopped. 
In  1780,  in  consequence  of  riots  and  depredations, 
the  inhabitants  furnished  themselves  with  arms 
and  equipments,  and  formed  a  military  society  for 


JS8 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[tslingtoil. 


general  protection.  In  spite  of  this,  robberies  and 
murders  in  the  by-roads,  constantly  took  place. 
In  1782  Mr.  Herd,  a  clerk  in  the  Custom  House, 
was  murdered  in  the  fields  near  the  "  Shepherd  and 
Shepherdess."  Mr.  Herd,  a  friend  of  Woodfall, 
the  publisher  of  "  Junius,"  was  returning  from  town 


One  of  the  celebrities  of  old  Islington  was 
Alexander  Aubert,  Esq.,  who  first  organised 
the  corps  of  Loyal  Islington  Volunteers.  In 
1797  the  loyal  inhabitants  of  Islington  formed 
themselves  into  a  corps,  to  defend  the  country 
against  its  revolutionary  enemies.    It  consisted  of 


^^^"u^^^^^^^^^' -^t^'-^^Q 


SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH'S   HOUSE. 


with  a  friend  and  two  servants  well  armed,  when 
he  was  attacked  by  footpads  armed  with  cutlasses 
and  firearms,  one  of  whom  (who  was  afterwards 
hanged)  shot  him  with  a  blunderbuss  as  he  was 
resisting.  In  1797  isir. Fryer,  an  attorney  of  South- 
ampton Buildings,  was  attacked  by  three  footpads 
and  shot  through  the  head.  Two  men  were  hung 
for  this  murder,  but  a  third  man  afterwards  con- 
fessed on  the  gallows  tha"  he  was  the  murderer. 


a  regiment  of  infantry  and  one  of  cavalry.  Mr. 
Aubert  became  lieutenant-colonel  commandant 
of  the  corps.  The  uniform  consisted  of  a  blue 
jacket  with  white  facings,  scarlet  cuffs,  collar, 
and  epaulets,  and  trimmed  with  silver  lace ;  white 
kerseymere  pantaloons,  short  gaiters,  helmets, 
and  cross-belts.  The  corps  was  broken  up  in 
,1801,  when  a  superb  silver  vase,  valued  at  300 
guineas,  was    presented    to    Mr.   Aubert.     This 


Islington.] 


PERILS  OF  THE  ROAD. 


259 


i6o 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


ttstisgto) 


gentleman,  who  was  an  eminent  amateur  astro- 
nomer, assisted  Smeaton  in  the  construction  of 
Ramsgate  Harbour.  He  died  in  1805,  from  a  cold 
caught  wheii  inspecting  a  glass  house  in  Wales.  A 
portrait  of  him,  in  uniform,  holding  his  charger,  by 
Mather  Brown,  used  to  be  hung  in  the  first  floor 
parlour  of  the  "Angel  and  Crown"  at  Islington. 

In  1803,  the  old  feats  of  French  invasion  again 
filling  the  lininds  of  citizens,  a  volunteer  corps  of 
infantry  was  organised  at  Islington.  It  consisted 
of  about  300  members.  They  wore  as  uniform  a 
scarlet  jacket  turned  up  with  black,  light-blue 
pantaloons,  short  gaiters,  and  beaver  caps.  This 
second!  slington  Volunteer  Corps  broke  up  in  1806 
from  want  of  funds.  The  adjutant,  Mr.  Dickson, 
joined  the  Sand  Regiment,  and  was  killed  near 
Roeskilde,  in  the  island  of  Zealand,  in  1807. 

Nelson,  writing  ih  .181  r,  explains  the  great  dis- 
proportion that  there  appeared  in  the  IsHngton 
parish  registers  between  the  burials  and  baptisms, 
from  the  fact  of  the  great  number  of  invalids  who 
resorted  to  a  district  then  often  called  "  The 
London  Hospita:!"  Dr.  Hunter  used  to  relate  a 
story  of  a  lady, '  who,  ih  an  advanced  age,  and 
declining  state  of  health,  went,  by  the  advice  of 
her  physician,  to  ^  take  lodgings  in  Islington.  She 
agreed  for  a  suite  of  rooms,  and,  coming  down 
stairs,  observed  that  the  banisters  were  much  out 
of  repair.  "These,"  she  said,  "must  be  mended 
before  she  could  think  of  coming  to  live  there." 
"  Madam,"  replied  the  landli^dy,  "  that  will  answer 
no  purpose,  as  the  undertaker's  men,  in  bringing 
down  the  coffins,  are  continually  breaking  the 
banisters."  The  old  lady  was  so  shocked  at  this 
funereal  intelligence,  that  she  immediately  declined 
occupying  the  apartments. 

The  most  interesting  hostelry  in  old  Islington 
was  the  old  "Queen's  Head,"  at  the  comer  of 
Queen's  Head  Lane.  It  was  pulled  down,  to  the 
regret  of  all  antiquaries,  in  1829. 

"  It  was,"  says  Lewis,  "  a  strong  wood  and 
plaister  building  bf  three  lofty  storeys,  project- 
ing over  each  bther  in  front,  and  forming  bay 
windows,  supported  by  brackets  and  carved  figures. 
The  centre,  which  projected  several  feet  beyond 
the  other  part  of  the  building,  and  formed  a  com- 
modious porch,  to  which  there  was  a  descent  of 
several  steps,  was  supported  '  in  front  by  caryatides 
of  carved  oak,  standing  on  either  side  of  the 
entrance,  and  crowned  with  Ionic  scrolls.  The 
house  is  said  to  have  been  once  entered  by  an 
asceni  of  several  steps,  but,  at'the  time  it  was  pulled 
down,  the  floor  of  its  front  parlour  was  four  feet 
below  the  level  of  the  highway;  and  thi^  alteration 
is  easily  accounted  for,  when  the  antiquity  of  the 


building,  the  vast  accumulation  of  matter  upon  the 
road,  in  the  course  of  many  centuries,  and  the  fact 
of  an  arch  having  been  thrown  over  the  New  River, 
in  front  of  the  house,  are  considered." 

."The  interior  of  the  house  was  constructed  in  a 
similar  manner  to  that  of  m.ost  of  the  old  build- 
ings in  the  parish,  having  oak-panelled  wainscots 
and  stuccoed  ceilings.  The  principal  room  was  the 
parlour  already  alluded  to,  the  ceiling  of  which  was 
ornamented  with  dolphins,  cherubs,  acorns,  &c., 
surrounded  by  a  wreathed  border  of  fruit  and 
foliage,  and  had,  near  the  centre,  a  medalhon,  of 
a  character  apparently  Romany  crowned  with  bays, 
and  a  small  shield  containing  the  initials  'I.  M.' 
surrounded  by  cherubim  and  glory.  •  The  chimney- 
piece  was  supported  by  two  figures  carved  in  stone, 
hung  with  festoons,  &c.,  and  the  stone  slab,  im- 
mediately over  the  fireplace,  exhibited  the  stories  of 
Danae  and  Actaeon  in  relief,  with  mutilated  figures 
of  Venus,  Bacchus,  and  Plenty." 

Tradition  had  long  connected  this  house  with 
the  name  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  though  with  no 
sufficient  reason.  In  the  thirtieth  year  of  EHzabeth, 
Sir  Walter  obtained  a  patent  "to  make  licences 
for  keeping  of  taverns  and  retailing  of  wines 
throughout  England."  This  house  may  be  one  of 
those  to  which  Raleigh  granted  licences,  and  the 
sign  then  marked  the  reign  m  which  it  was 
granted.  There  is  also  a  tradition  that  Lord 
Treasurer  Burleigh  once  resided  here,  and  a  topo- 
graphical writer  mentions  the  fact  that  two  lions 
carved  in  wood,  the  supporters  of  the  Cecil  arms, 
formerly  stood  in  an  adjoining  yard,  and  appeared  to 
have  once  belonged  to  the  old  "  Queen's  Head." 
Another  story  is  that  Queen  Elizabeth's  saddler 
resided  here;  while  others  assert  that  it  was  the 
summer  residence  of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  and  the 
resort  of  Elizabeth.  Early  in  the  last  century,  this 
occasional  house  belonged  to  a  family  named 
Roome,  one  of  whom  left  the  estate  to  Lady 
Edwards.  The  oak  parlour  of  the  old  building 
was  preserved  in  the  new  one.  In  a  house  adjoin- 
ing the  "Queen's  Head "  resided  John  Rivington, 
the  well-known  bookseller,  who  died  in  1792. 

Behind  Frederick  Place  we  reach  the  site  of  the 
old  "  Pied  Bull"  Inn,  pulled  down  about  forty-five 
years  ago,  which  was  originally  either  the  property 
or  the  residence  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  In  the 
parlour  window,  looking  into  the  garden,  was  some 
curious  stained  glass,  containing  the  arms  of  Sir 
John  Miller,  Knight,  of  Islington  and  Devon.  These 
arms  bear  date  eight  years  after  Sir  Walter  was 
beheaded,  and  were,  it  is  supposed,  substituted 
by  Miller  when  he  came  to  reside  here.  The  sea- 
horses, parrots  in  the  window,  and  the  leaves,  sup- 


lalington.] 


THE  OLD  PARISH  CHURCH. 


?6i 


posed  to  represent  tobacco,  seem  to  have  been 
chosen  as  emblems  of  his  career  by  Raleigh  himself. 

"  The  arms.in  the  parlour  window,"  says  Nelson, 
♦'are  enclosed  within  an  ornamental  border,  con- 
sisting of  two  mermaids,  each  crested  with  a  globe, 
as  many  sea-horses  supporting  a  bunch  of  green 
leaves  over  the  shield,  and  the  lower  part  contains 
a  green  and  a  grey  parrot,  the  former  eating  fruit. 
Adjoining  to  this  is  another  compartment  in  the 
window,  representing  a  green  parrot  perched  on  a 
wreath,  under  a  pediment,  within  a  border  of  figures 
and  flowers,  but  which  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
intended  for  any  armorial  ensign. 

"  The  chimney-piece  of  this  room  contains  the 
figures  of  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity,  with  their 
usual  insignia,  in  niches,  surrounded  by  a  border 
of  cherubim,  fruit,  and  foliage.  The  centre  figure. 
Charity,  is  surmounted  by  two  Cupids  supporting  a 
crown,  and  beneath  is  a  lion  and  unicorn  couchant. 
This  conceit  was  probably  designed  by  the  artist 
in  compliment  to  the  reigning  princess,  Queen 
Elizabeth.  The  ceiling  displays  a  personification 
of  the  Five  Senses  in  stucco,  with  Latin  mottbes 
underneath,  as  follows : — An  oval  in  the  centre 
contains  a  female  figure  holding  a  serpent,  which 
is  twining  round  her  right  arm,  and  biting  the 
hand ;  her  left  hand  holds  a  stick,  the  point  of 
which  rests  on  the  back  of  a  toad  at  her  feet.  The 
motto  to  this  is  '  Tactus.'  Around  the  above,  in 
smaller  ovals>  are,  a  female  bearing  fi-uit  under  her 
left  arm,  of  which  she  is  eating,  as  is  also  an  ape 
seated  at  her  feet,  with  the  word  '  Gustus.'  Another 


figure  holding  a  vizard.  At  its  feet  a  cat  and  a  h^wk,. 
with  the  motto,  '  Visus.'  A  figure  playing  on  the; 
lute,  with  a  stag  listening,  and  the  motto, '  Au^ditus.'' 
The  last  figure  is  standing  in  a  garden,  and  holding 
a  bouquet  of  flowers.  At  her  feet  is  a  dog,  and  the 
motto,  'Olfactus.'" 

That  comer  stone  of  Islington,  the  "Angel,"  has 
been  now  an  established  inn  for  considerably  more 
than  200  years.  In  old  days,  it  was  a  great  halting- 
place  for  travellers  in  the  first  night  out  of  London. 
"The  ancient  house,"  says  Lewis,  "which  was 
pulled  down  in  1819  to  make  way  for  the  present 
one,  presented  the  usual  features  of  a  large  old 
country  inn,  having  a  long  front  with  an  over- 
hanging tiled  roof,  and  two  rows  of  windows, 
twelve  in  each  row,  independently  of  those  on  the 
basement  storey.  The  principal  entrance  was  be- 
neath a  projection,  which  extended  along  a  por- 
tion of  the  front,  and  had  a  wooden  gallery  at  the 
top.  The  inn-yard,  approached  by  a  gateway  in 
the  centre,  was  nearly  a  quadrangle,  having  double 
galleries,  supported  by  plain  columns  and  carved 
pilasters,  with  caryatides  and  other  figures.'' 

There  is  a  tradition  that  the  whole  of  the  ground 
from  the  corner  of  the  Back  Road  to  the  "  Angel " 
was  forfeited  by  the  parish  of  Islington,  and  united 
to  that  of  Clerkenwell,  in  consequence  of  the 
refusal  of  the  Islingtonians  to  bury  a  pauper  who 
was  found  dead  at  the  corner  of  the  Back  Road. 
The  corpse  being  taken  to  Clerkenwell,  the  district 
above  described  was  claimed,  and  retained  by  that 
parish. 


CHAPTER      XXXII. 
ISLINGTON  (continued). 

The  old  Parish  Church  of  Islington— Scaffolding  superseded— A  sadly-interesting  Grave — *isner  House — George  Morland,  the  Artist— A  great 
Islington  Family — Celebrities  of  Cross  Street— John  Quick,  the  Comedian — ^The  Abduction  of  a  Child — Laycock's  Dairy  Farm— Alexander 
Cruden,  the  Author  of  the  Concordance — ^William  Hawes,  the  Founder  of  the  Royal  Humane  Society— Charles  Lamb  at  Islington — William 
Woodfall  and  Colley  Cibber— Baron  D'Aguilar,  the  Miser— St.  Peter's  Church,  Islington— Irvingites  at  Islington— The  New  River  and 
Sir  Hugh  Myddelton— The  Opening  Ceremony— Collins,  the  Poet— The  "Crown"  Inn— Hunsdon  House— Islington  Celebrities- 
Mrs.  Barbauld— The  Duke's  Head— Topham,  the  "Strong  Man." 

"  undertook,  for  the  sum  of  ;^2o,  to  erect  a  scaffold, 
of  wicker-work  round  the  spire,  and  which  he 
formed  entirely  of  willow,  hazel,  and  other  sticks. 
It  had  a  flight  of  stairs  within,  ascending  in  a  spiral 
line  from  the  octagonal  balustrade  to  the  vane,  by 
which  the  ascent  was  as  easy  and  safe  as  the  stairs 
of  a  dwelling-house.  This  ingenious  contrivance 
entirely  superseded  the  use  of  a  scaffold,  which  would 
have  been  more  expensive,  and  is  frequently  at- 
tended with  danger  in  works  of  this  kind.  The 
spire  on  this  occasion  presented  a  very  curious 
appearance,  being  entirely  enveloped,  as  it  were,  in 
a   huge  basket,  within  which  the  workmen   were 


The  old  parish  church  of  Islington,  dedicated  to 
the  Virgin  Mary,  was  a  strange  rambling  struc- 
ture, entered  through  a  gable-ended  school-room 
which  blocked  up  the  west  end.  It  had  an  old 
flint  tower,  with  six  bells,  a  clock,  and  a  sun-dial. 
The  date  of  the  building  was  not  much  earlier  than 
1483.  In  1751,  the  church  becoming  ruinous,  it 
was  pulled  down  and  rebuilt  by  Mr.  Stcemson,  under 
the  direction  of  Mr.  Dowbiggin,  one  of  the  unsuc- 
cessful competitors  for  the  erection  of  Blackfriars 
Bridge.  It  cost  ^^7,340.  In,  1787  the  church  was 
repaired  and  the  tower  strengthened. 

"Thomas  Birch,  a  basket-maker,"  says  Nelson,. 


262 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Islington. 


performing  the  necessary  repairs  in  perfect  safety. 
The  late  Alderman  Staines  is  said  to  have  been  the 
first  person  who  contrived  this  kind  of  scaffolding,  in 
some  repairs  done  to  the  spire  of  St.  Bride's  Church, 
London,  which  was  damaged  by  lightning  in  the 
year  1764,  after  having  his  scaffold-poles,  &c., 
which  had  been  erected  in  the  usual  way,  carried 
away  by  a  violent  storm.'' 

In  Islington  Church  were  buried,  in  1609,  Sir 
George  Wharton,  son  of  Lord  Wharton,  and  James 
.  Steward,  son  of  Lord  Blantyre,  and  godson  of 
James  I.  These  young  gallants  quarrelled  at  the 
gaming-table,  and  fought  at  Islington  with  sword 
and  dagger,  and  in  their  shirts,  for  fear  of  either 
wearing  concealed  armour.  They  both  fell  dead 
on  the  field,  and,  by  the  king's  desire,  were  buried 
in  one  grave.  In  the  church  vault  are  two  iron 
coffins,  and  one  of  cedar,  the  last  containing  the 
body  of  Justice  Palmer,  train-bearer  to  Onslow, 
the  Speaker.  The  object  of  the  cedar  was  to  re- 
sist the  attack  of  the  worms,  and  the  cover  was 
shaped  like  the  gable  roof  of  a  house  to  prevent  any 
other  coffin  being  put  upon  it.  Here,  also,  is 
buried  a  great-grandson  of  the  eminent  navigator, 
Magelhaens,  and  Osborne,  the  Gray's  Inn  book- 
seller, whom  Dr.  Johnson  knocked  down  with  a 
folio.  Osborne  gave  ;^i3,ooo  for  the  Earl  of 
Oxford's  library,  the  binding  of  which  alone  had 
cost  _;^i8,ooo.  In  1808  the  body  of  a  young 
woman  named  Thomis  was  disinterred  here,  there 
being  a  suspicion  that  she  ha^  been  murdered,  as  a 
large  wire  was  formerly  thrust  through  her  heart. 
It  was,  however,  found  that  this  had  been  done  by 
the  doctor,  at'  her  dying  request,  to  prevent  the 
possibility  of  her  being  buried  alive. 

One  of  the  celebrated  buildings  of  Islington  was 
Fisher  House,  in  the  Lower  Street,  and  nearly 
opposite  the  east  end  of  Cross  Street.  It  was 
probably  built  about  the  beginning  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  In  the  interior  the  arms  of  Fowler 
and:^j  Fisher  were  to  be  seen.  Ezekiel  Tongue, 
an  old  writer  against  the  Papists,  is  supposed  to 
have  kept  a  school  here  about  1660  for  teaching 
young  ladies  Greek  and  Latin.  It  was  afterwards 
a  lodging-house,  and  then  a  lunatic  asylum.  Here 
Brothers,  the  prophet,  was  confined,  till  Lord 
Chancellor  Erskine  liberated  him  in  1806. 

At  the  south  end  of  Frog  Lane  was  formerly  a 
public-house  called  "  Frog  Hall;"  the  sign,  a  plough 
drawn  by  frogs.  At  the  "Bariey  Mow"  public- 
house,  in  Frog  Lane,  George  Moriand,  the  painter, 
resided  for  several  months,  about  the  year  1800. 
Moriand  would  frequently  apply  to  a  farm-house 
opposite  for.  harness,  to  sketch,  and  if"-he  saw  a 
suitable  rustic  for  a  model  pass  by,  would  induce  him 


to  sit,  by  the  offer  of  money  and  beer.  Here  he 
drank  and  painted  alternately.  Close  by,  at  No.  8, 
Popham  Terrace,  resided  that  useful  old  writer, 
John  Thomas  Smith  (he  was  a  pupil  of  Nollekens), 
"  Rainy  Day  Smith,"  to  whose  works  on  London 
we  have  been  much  indebted.  He  became  Keeper 
of  the  Print-Room  of  the  British  Museum,  and  died 
in  1833. 

Opposite  RufTord's  Buildings  there  stood,  till 
18 1 2,  an  old  Elizabethan  house  of  wood  and 
plaster,  with  curious  ceilings,  and  a  granite  mantel- 
piece representing  the  Garden  of  Eden  and  the  Tree 
of  Knowledge.  The  new  house  became  Shield's 
school,  where  Dr.  Hawes  and  John  NichoUs,  the 
antiquary,  were  educated.  In  a  house  which  for- 
merly stood  in  the  Upper  Street,  opposite  Cross 
Street,  resided  Dr.  William  Pitcaim,  elected  phy- 
sician, in  1750,  to  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital.  He 
commenced  a  botanical  garden  of  five  acres  behind 
the  house,  but  it  does  not  now  exist. 

One  of  the  celebrated  houses  of  old  Islington 
was  No.  41,  Cross  Street,  and  formerly  the  mansion 
of  the  Fowler  family,  lords  of  the  manor  of  Barnes- 
bury.  The  Fowlers  were  great  people  in  their 
swords  and  ruffs,  in  the  days  of  Elizabeth  and 
James;  and  Sir  Thomas  Fowler  appears  to  have 
been  one  of  the  jurors  upon  the  trial  of  Sir  Walter 
■Raleigh,  at  Winchester,  in  1603.  The  house  is 
wood  and  plaster,  with  a  modern  brick  front.  It 
appears  to  be  of  the  age  of  Elizabeth. 

"  The  ceiling  of  a  back  room  on  the  first  floor," 
says  Lewis,  "  is  decorated  with  the  arms  of  Eng- 
land in  the  reign  of  that  princess,  with  her  initials, 
and  the  date  (1595)  in  stucco;  also  the  initials  of 
Thomas  and  jane  Fowler,  .p^j_  with  fleur  de  lis, 
medallions,  &c.,  in  the  same  style  as  the  ceilings 
at  Canonbury  House.  The  rooms  are  wainscoted 
with  oak  in  panels,  and  till  the  year  1788,  when 
they  were  removed,  the  windows  contained  some 
arms  in  stained  glass,  among  which  were  those  of 
Fowler,  with  the  date  (1588),  and  those  of  Heme,  or 
Heron.  In  pulling  down  some  old  houses  for  the 
formation  of  Halton  Street,  at  the  east  end  of  this 
house,  sotine  remains  of  the  ancient  stabling  and 
offices  were  taken  away.  In  these  stables  a  fire 
broke  out  on  the  17th  February,  1655,  but  it  does 
not  appear  to  have  done  any  injury  to  the  dwelling- 
house. 

"  At  the  extremity  of  the  garden  which  belonged 
to  the  mansion  is  a  small  building,  originally  about 
fifteen  feet  square,  and  presenting  an  exterior  of 
brick,  absurdly  called  Queen  Elizabeth's  Lodge. 
It  appears  to  have  afforded  access  to  the  house 
through  the  grounds,  and  was  probably  built  as  a 
summer-house  or  porter's  lodge,  at  the  entrance  of 


IsKngton.] 


ISLINGTON  CELEBRITIES. 


263 


the  garden,  about  the  time  the  mansion-house  was 
erected.  The  arms  of  Fowler,  bearing  an  esquire's 
helmet,  are  cut  in  stone  on  the  west  side  of  the 
building,  near  the  top,  which  proves  that  the  time 
of  its  erection  was  before  the  honour  of  knighthood 
had  been  conferred  upon  its  owner." 

The  name  attached  to  the  lodge  may  have  arisen 
from  some  visit  paid  by  Elizabeth  to  Sir  Thomas 
Fowler  or  Sir  John  Spencer. 

A  Ijouse  near  the  old  charity  school  at  the  top  of 
Cross  Street  was  partly  denrohshed  by  the  London 
rioters  in  1780,  when  it  was  occupied  by  the 
obnoxious  Justice  Hyde,  who  had  ordered  out  the 
troops,  and  whose  goods  the  true  Protestants  with 
the  blue  cockade  biurnt  in  the  street. 

In  Cross  Street,  in  18 17,  died  Mrs.  Hester 
Milner,  the  youngest  of  ten  daughters  of  the  Dr. 
John  Milnerin  whose  school  Dr.  John  Hawkesworth 
and  Oliver  Goldsmith  were  assistants.  At  the 
"  Old  Parr's  Head,"  at  the  comer  of  Cross  Street, 
John  Henderson,  the  best  Falstaff  ever  known  on 
the  stage,  made  his  first  appearance  in  public,  by 
reciting  Garrick's  ode  to  Shakespeare,  with  close 
imitations  of  the  actor's  manner.  He  appeared 
as  Hamlet  at  the  Bath  Theatre  in  1772. 

John  Quick,  a  celebrated  comedian,  resided  at 
Hornsey  Row.  He  was  the  son  of  a  Whitechapel 
brewer,  and  was  the  original  Tony  Lumpkin,  Bob 
Acres,  and  Isaac  Mendosa ;  he  was  one  of  the 
last  of  the  Garrick  school,  and  was  a  great  favourite 
of  George  III.  He  retired  in  1798,  after  thirty- 
six  years  on  the  boards,  with  ;^io,ooo,  and  died 
in  1831,  aged  eighty-three,  another  proof  of  the 
longevity  of  successful  actors.  Up  to  the  last  of 
his  life  Quick  frequented  a  club  at  the  "King's 
Head,"  opposite  the  old  church,  and  officiated  as 
president.     Mrs.  Davenport  was  Quick's  daughter. 

In  the  year  181 8  great  interest  was  excited  by 
the  abduction  of  the  child  of  a  shipbroker,  named 
Horsley,  who  resided  at  3,  Canonbury  Lane.  It 
had  been  stolen  by  a  man  named  Rennett,  who 
had  conceived  a  hatred  for  the  boy's  grandfather, 
Charles  Dignum,  the  singer,  and  also  for  the  sake 
of  the  reward.,  The  man  was  tracked,  taken,  and 
eventually  transported  for  seven  years. 

Laycock's  dairy  farm  faced  Union  Chapel,  built 
by'Mrl  Leroux,  at  the  beginning  of  the  century. 
Laycock,  an  enterprising  man,  who  died  in  1834, 
erected  sheds  foir  cattle  on  their  way  to  Smithfield. 
Laycock  and  a  Mr.  Rhodes  had  gradually  absorbed 
the  smaller  grass  farms  (once  the  great  feature  of 
Islington),  and  which  were  common  seventy  or 
eighty  years  ago,  ,says  Mr.  Lewis,  writing  in  1842. 
The  stocks  varied  from  twenty  to  a  hundred  cows, 
"  One  of  these  was  on  the  site  of  Elliot's  Place, 


Lower  Street ;  another  where  Bray's  Buildings  now 
stand,  and  others  in  the  Upper  Street,  and  at 
Holloway." 

At  a  house  in  Camden  Passage,  near  the  west 
end  of  Camden  Street,  and  also  in  the  Upper 
Street  and /at  Paradise  Row,  lived  that  extra- 
ordinary man,  Alexander  Cruden,  the  compiler  of 
the  laborious  Concordance  to  the  Bible.  Cruden, 
the  son  of  an  Aberdeen  merchant,  was  born  in 
1 701.  After  being  a  private  tutor  and  a  corrector 
of  the  press,  he  opened  a  bookseller's  shop  under 
the  Royal  Exchange,  London,  and  there  wrote  his 
Concordance.  His  mind  becoming  disordered  at 
the  bad  reception  of  the  Concordance,  he  was  sent  to 
an  asylum  at  Bethnal  Green,  the  practices  at  which 
he  afterwards  attacked,  bringing  an  unsuccessful 
action  against  the  celebrated  Dr.  Munro.  In  1754, 
on  his  release,  he  applied  for  the  honour  of  knight- 
hood, put  himself  in  nomination  for  the  City  of 
London,  and  assumed  the  title  of  "  Alexander  the 
Corrector,"  believing  himself  divinely  inspired  to 
reform  a  corrupt  age.,  One  of  his  harmless  eccen- 
tricities was  going  about  with  a  sponge,  erasing 
the  number  forty-five  from  the  walls,  to  show 
his  aversion  for  John  Wilkes,  against  whom  he 
published  a  pamphlet.  Eventually  he  became 
corrector  for  the  press  on  Mr.  Woodfall's  paper,  the 
Public  Advertiser,  and  devoted  his  spare  time  to 
teaching  the  felons  in  Newgate,  and  other  works  of 
charity.  He  dedicated  the  second  edition  of  his 
Concordance  to  George  III.,  and  presented  him  a 
copy  in  person.  He  died  in  1770,  being  found 
dead  on  his  knees,  in  the  attitude  of  prayer.  He 
was  buried  in  a  Dissenting  burial-ground,  in  Dead- 
man's  Place,  Southwark. 

That  excellent  man,  Dr.  William  Hawes,  the 
founder  of  the  Royal  Humane  Society,  was  bom 
in  1736,  in  "Job's  House,"  or  the  "Old  Thatched 
House "  Tavern,  in  Cross  Street,  and  was  the  son 
of  the  landlord.  In  1773  he  began  to  call  atten- 
tion to  the  means  of  resuscitating  persons  ap- 
parently drowned,  a  subject  which  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  had  been  urging  for  thirty  years.  At 
first  he  encountered  much  ridicule  and  opposition, 
but,  in  1774,  Dr.  Hawes  and  Dr.  Cogan  brought 
each  fifteen  friends  to  a  meeting  at  the  "  Chapter" 
Coffee  House,  and  the  Humane  Society  was  at 
once  formed,  and  the  "  Thatched  House "  Tavern 
became  one  of  the  first  houses  of  reception.  This 
same  year  Dr.  Hawes  wrote  a  pamphlet  on  the 
death  of  Goldsmith,  to  show  the  dangers  of  violent 
medicine.  In  1793  this  good  man  was  the  chief 
means  of'^  saving  1,200  famihes  of  Spitalfields 
weavers  from  starvation,  at  a  time  when  cotton 
had  begun  to  supersede  silk.     Dr,  Hawes  died  in 


264 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Islington, 


Islington.] 


THE  NEW  RIVER. 


265 


71— Vol.  II. 


266 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Islington. 


1808,  and  was  buried  in  the  cemetery  attached  to 
the  churchyard  at  Islington. 

Colebrooke  Row  was  built  in  1768.  Six  acres 
at  the  back  formed-  at  first  a  nursery  and  then  a 
brick-field.  Here  that  delightful  humourist,  Charles 
Lamb,  resided,  with  his  sister,  from  about  1823  to 
1826,  immediately  after  his  retirement  from  the 
India  House. 

Lamb  describes  his  place  of  abode  at  Islington, 
in  a  letter  to  Bernard  Barton,  dated  September  2, 
1823: — "When  you  come  Londonward,  you  will 
find  me  no  longer  in  Covent  Garden ;  I  have  a 
cottage  in  Colebrooke  Row,  Islington — a  cottage, 
for  it  is  detached — a  white  house,  with  six  good 
rooms  in  it.  The  New  River  (rather  elderly  by 
this  time)  runs  (if  a  moderate  walking-pace  can  be 
so  termed)  close  to  the  foot  of  the  house?;  and 
behind  is  a  spacious  garden,  with  vines  (I  assure 
you),  pears,  strawberries,  parsnips,  leeks,  carrots, 
cabbalges,  to  delight  the  heart  of  old  Alcinous.  You 
enter  without  passage  into  a  cheerful  dining-room, 
all  studded  over  and  rough  with  old  books ;  and 
above  is  a  lightsome  drawing-room,  three  windows, 
full  of  choice  prints.  I  feel  like  a  great  lord,  never 
having  had  a  house  before."  And  again,  in  the 
November  following,  in  a  letter  to  Robert  Southey, 
he  informs  the  bard,  who  had  promised  him  a  call, 
that  he  is  "  at  Colebrooke  Cottage,  left  hand 
coming  from  Saddler's  Wells."  It  was  here  that 
that  amiable  bookworm,  George  Dyer,  editor  of 
the  Delphin  classics,  walked  tjuietly  into  the  New 
River  from  Charles  Lamb's  door,  but  was  soon  re- 
covered, thanks  to  the  kind  care  of  Miss  Lamb. 

A  small  house  at  the  back  of  Colebrooke  Row 
was  the  residence  of  that  great  ParUamentary  re- 
porter, William  Woodfall,  the  friend  of  Garrick, 
Goldsmith,  and  Savage.  In  lodgings  at  a  house 
near  the  "  Castle  Tavern  "  and  Tea  Gardens,  old 
Colley  Cibber,  the  best  fop  that  ever  appeared  on 
the  stage,  died  in  1757,  aged  eighty-six.  As  one- 
of  Pope's  most  recalcitrant  butts,  as  the  author  of 
the  Qarekss  Husband,  and  as  poet  laureate,  Cibber 
occupied  a  prominent  place  among  the  lesser  lights 
of  the  long  Georgian  era.  Gibber's  reprobate 
daughter,  Charlotte  Charke,  among  other  eccen- 
tricities in  her  reckless  life,  kept  a  pubUc-house  at 
Islington,  where  she  died  in  1760. 

At  the  close  of  the  last  century  the  Baron 
D'Aguilar,  a  half-crazed  miser,  lived  in  Camden 
Street,  and  kept  a  small  farm  on  the  west  bank  of 
the  New  River,  near  the  north  end  of  Colebrooke 
Row.  He  beat  his  wife  and  starved  his  cattle, 
which  were  occasionally  in  the  habit  of  devouring 
each  other.  He  died  in  1802,  leaving  jewels  worth 
;^3o,ooo.     The  total  bulk  of  his  property  is  sup- 


posed to  have  been  worth  upwards  of  ;^2oo,ooo, 
which  he  left  to  two  daughters,  one  of  whom  he 
cursed  on  his  dying  bed. 

St.  Peter's  Church,  Islington,  consecrated  in  1835, 
was  erected  at  an  expense  of  ;£'3,407.  The  Irvingite 
church,  in  Duncan  Road,  was  erected  in  1834,  the 
year  Irving  died.  After  his  expulsion  from  the 
Presbytery,  Irving  frequently  preached  in  Britannia 
Fields,  Islington,  till  his  admirers  rented  for  him 
West's  Picture  Gallery,  in  Newman  Street. 

And  here  we  may,  as  well  as  anywhere  else,  sketch 
the  history  of  the  New  River,  which  passes  along 
Colebrooke  Row,  but  was  some  years  ago  covered 
over.  In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  the  London 
conduits  being  found  quite  inadequate  to  the 
demands  of  the  growing  City,  the  Queen  granted 
the  citizens  leave  to  convey  a  'stream  to  London, 
from  any  part  of  Middlesex  or  Hertfordshire. 
Nothing,  however,  was  done,  nor  was'  even  a  second 
Act,  passed  by  King  James,  ever  carried  into  effect. 
What  all  London  could  not  do,  a  single  public- 
spirited  man  accomplished.  In  1609,  Mr.  Hugh 
Myddeltpn,  a  Welsh  goldsmith,  who  had  enriched 
himself  by  mines  in  Cardiganshire,  persuaded  the 
Common  Council  to  transfer  to  him  the  power 
granted  them  by  the  above-mentioned  Acts,  and 
offered,  in  four  years,  at  his  own  risk  and  charge, 
to  bring  the  Chadwell  and  Amwell  springs  from 
Hertfordshire  to  London,  by  a  route  more  than 
thirty-eight  miles  long.  Endless  vexations,  how- 
ever, befell  the  enterprising  man.  The  greedy 
landholders  of  Middlesex  and  Herts  did  all  they 
could  to  thwart  him.  Eventually  he  had  to  petition 
the  City  for  an  extension  of  the  time  for  the 
fulfilment  of  his  contract  to  nine  years,  and  at  last, 
when  the  water  had  been  brought  as  far  as  Enfield, 
Myddelton  was  so  completely  drained  that  he  had 
to  apply  to  the  City  for  aid.  On  their  ungenerous 
refusal,  he  resorted  to  the  King,  who,  tempted  by 
a  moiety  of  the  concern,  paid  half  the  expenses. 
The  scheme  then  progressed  fast,  and  on  the  2gth 
of  September,  1613,  the  water  was  at  last  let  into 
the  New  River  Head,  at  Clerkenwell.  Hugh 
Myddelton's  brother  (the  Lord  Mayor  of  London) 
and  many  aldermen  and  gentlemen  were  present  ■ 
at  the  ceremony,  which  repaid  the,  worthy  gold- 
smith for  his  years  of  patient  toil. 

Stow  gives  us  an  account  of  the  way  in  which  the 
ceremony  was  performed.  "A  troop  of  labourers," 
he  says,  "  to  the  number  of  sixty  or  more,  well 
apparelled,  and  wearing  green  Monmouth  caps,  all 
alike,  carryed  spades,  shovels,  pickaxes,  and  such 
like  instruments  of  laborious  employment  marching 
after  drummes,  twice  or  thrice  about  the  cisterne, 
presented  themselves  before  the  mount,  where  the 


TsUogton.] 


HUNSDEN     HOUSE. 


267 


Lord  Maior,  aldermen,  and  a  worthy  company 
beside,  stood  to  behold  them ;  and  one  man  in 
behalf  of  all  the  rest,  delivered  this  speech  : — 

'  Long  have  we  labour'd,  long  desir'd,  and  pray'd 
For  this  great  work's  perfection  ;  and  by  th'  aid 
Of  Heaven  and  good  men's  wishes,  'tis  at  length 
Happily  conquered,  by  cost,  art,  and  strength.  , 

And  after  five  yeeres  deare  expence,  in  dayes, 
Travaile,  and  paines,  beside  the  infinite  wayes 
Of  malice,  envy,  false  suggestions, 
Able  to  daunt  the  spirits  of  mighty  ones 
In  wealth  and  courage.     This,  a  work  so  rare, 
Onely  by  one  man's  industry,  cost,  and  care, 
Is  brought  to  blest  effect ;  so  much  withstood, 
His  onely  ayme,  the  Citie's  generall  good. 
And  where  (before)  many  \mjust  complaints. 
Enviously  seated,  caused  oft  restraints, 
Stops  and  great  crosses,  to  our  mastei-'s  charge, 
And  the  work's  hindrance  ;  Favour,  now  at  large, 
Spreads  herself  open  to  him,  and  commends 
To  admiration,  both  his  paines  and  ends 
(The  King's  most  gracious  love). 

Now  for  the  fruits  then  ;  flow  forth  precious  spring 
So  long  and  dearly  sought  for,  and  now  bring 
Comfort  to  all  that  love  thee  ;  loudly  sing, 
And  vpith  thy  chrystal  murmurs  strook  together. 
Bid  all  thy  true  well-wishers  welcome  hither. ' 

At  which  words  the  flood-gates  flew  open,  the 
streame  ran  gallantly  into  the  cisterne,  drummes 
and  trumpets  sounding  in  triumphall  manner,  and 
a  brave  peale  of  chambers  gave  full  issue  to  the 
intended  entertainement." 

It  was  a  considerable  time  before  the  New  River 
water  came  into  full  use,  and  for  the  first  nineteen 
years  the  annual  profit  scarcely  amounted  to  twelve 
shillings  a  sliare.  The  following  figures  will  give 
the  best  idea  of  the  improvement  of  value  in  this 
property  :— 1634  (the  second),  jQi  4S-  2d. ;  1680, 
;^i4S  IS.  8d. ;  1720,  ^214  153.  7d. ;  and  1794, 
;^43i  8s.  8d.  The  shares  in  181 1  were  con- 
sidered worth  ;^ii,5oo,  and  an  adventurer's  share 
has  been  sold  for  as  much  as  ;^r  7,000.  The 
undertaking  cost  the  first  projectors  half  a  million 
sterling.  There  were  originally  seventy-tw^o  shares, 
and  thirty-six  of  these  were  vested  in  the  projector, 
whose  descendants,  however,  became  impoverished, 
and  were  obliged  to  part  with  the  property.  The 
mother  of  the  last  Sir  Hugh  indeed  received  a 
pension  of  twenty  pounds  per  annum  from  the 
Goldsmiths'  Company. 

Sir  Hugh  died  in  1631  a  prosperous  nian,  tnough 
there  is  an  old  Islington  tradition  that  he  became 
pensioner  in  a  Shropshire  village,  applied  in  vain 
for  reUef  to  the  City,  and  died  in  obscurity. 

The  last  Sir  Hugh  was  a  poor  drunken  fellow 
who  strived  hard  to  die  young,  and  boarded  with 
an  Essex  farmer.     Even  as  late  as  1828  £|,  female 


descendant  of  the    Welsh  goldsmith  obtained  a 
small  annuity  from  the  Corporation. 

The  New  River  is  mentioned  by  Nelson  in  181 1 
as  having  between  200  and  300  bridges  over  it, 
and  upwards  of  forty  sluices.  Lewis,  \/riting  in 
1842,  speaks  of  it  as  having  in  his  day  "one 
hundred  and  fifty-four  bridges  over  it,  and  four 
large  sluices  in  its  course,  and  in  various  parts, 
both  over  and  under  its  stream,  numerous  currents 
of  land-waters,  and  brooks,  and  rivulets."  It  was 
formerly  conducted  over  the  valley  near  High- 
bury, in  a  huge  wooden  trough  462  feet  long, 
supported  by  brick  piers,  and  called  the  Boarded 
River.     This  was,  however,  removed  in  1776. 

Dr.  Johnson  describes  going  to  Islington  to  see 
poor  Collins,  the  poet,  when  his  mind  was  begin- 
ning to  fail.  It  was  after  Collins  had  returned 
from  France,  and  had  come  to  Islington,  directing 
his  sister  to  meet  him  there.  "  There  was  then," 
says  the  Doctor,  "  nothing  of  disorder  discernible 
in  his  mind  by  any  but  himself;  but  he  had  with- 
drawn from  study,  and  travelled  with  no  other 
book  than  an  Enghsh  Testament,  such  as  children 
carry  to  the  school."  When  his  friend  took  it  in 
his  hand,  out  of  curiosity,  to  see  what  companion 
a  man  of  letters  had  chosen,  "  I  have  but  one 
book,"  said  Coflins,  "  but  that  is  the  best." 

On  the  east  side  of  the  Lower  Street  was  for- 
merly a  very  old  pubUc-house  called  "  The  Crown." 
"  It  contained,"  says  Lewis,  "  several  fragments  of 
antiquity,  in  the  form  of  carved  work,  stained  glass, 
&c.,  and  had  been  probably  once  the  residence  of 
some  opulent  merchant  or  person  of  distinction. 
In  the  window  of  a  room  on  the  ground-floor  were 
the  arms  of  England,  the  City  of  London,  the 
Mercers'  Company,  and  another  coat ;  also  the 
red  and  white  roses  united,  with  other  ornaments, 
indicative  of  its  having  been  erected  about  the  time 
of  Henry  VII.  or  Henry  VIII.  Many  years  pre- 
vious to  the  pulling  down  of  the  building,  it  had 
been  converted  into  a  public-house,  the  common 
fate  of  most  of  the  old  respectable  dwellings  in 
this  parish,  and  was  latterly  kept  by  a  person 
named  Pressey,  who  frequently  accommodated 
strolling  players  with  a  large  room  in  the  house  for 
the  exhibition  of  dramatic  performances." 

Between  Lower  Chapel  Street  and  Paradise  Place 
stood  an  old  mansion  generally  known  as  Hunsden 
House,  which  was  pulled  down  in  1800.  It  was 
supposed  to  have  been  the  residence  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  favourite  cousin,  Henry  Carey,  created 
by  her  Lord  Hunsden.  The  front,  abutting  on 
Lower  Street,  was  inscribed  King  John's  Place,  as 
that  king  was  said  to  have  had  a  hunting-lodge 
there.   Sir  Thomas  Lovell  rebuilt  the  house.   It  was 


268 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Islington. 


supposed,  from  the  armorial  bearings  in  one  of  the 
stained  glass  windows,  that  this  chosen  residence 
had  been  at  one  time  the  abode  of  the  great  Earl 
of  Leicester,  the  most  favoured  of  all  Elizabeth's 
suitors.  It  afterwards  became  the  property  of.  Sir 
Robert  Ducy,  Bart.,  the  banker  of  Charles  I.  The 
memorable  mansion  was  celebrated  for  its  rich 
windows,  illustrating  the  subjects  of  the  Faithful 
Steward  and  the  Prodigal  Son,  and  crowded  be- 
sides with  prophets  and  saints.  There  was  also  a 
magnificent  chimney-piece,  containing  the  arms  of 
the  City  of  London,  with  those  of  Lovell  quarter- 
ing Muswell  or  Mosell,  the  arms  of  St.  John's 
Priory,  always  potent  in  this  neighbourhood,  besides 
those  of  Gardeners  of  London,  grocer,  and  the 
Company  of  Merchant  Adventurers. 

Among  the  celebrities  of  Islington  we  may 
notice  the  following,  in  addition  to  those  already 
given : — Sir  Henry  Yelverton,  a  judge  of  Common 
Pleas  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  who  was  baptised  at 
St.  Mary's.  He  got  entangled  in  opposition  to  the 
imperious  Duke  of  Buckingham,  and  paid  for  it 
by  an  imprisonment  in  the  Tower  and  a  heavy  fine. 

Robert  Brown,  the  founder  of  the  sect  of 
Brownists,  was  a  lecturer  at  Islington.  After  flying 
to  Holland,  and  being  excommunicated  on  his 
return  to  England  by  a  bishop,  he  went  back  to  the 
Establishment  about  1590,  and  accepted  a  living 
in  Northamptonshire,  where  he  lived  a  somewhat 
discreditable  life.  For  striking  a  constable  who 
had  demanded  a  rate  from  him  Brown  was  sent  to 
Northampton  gaol,  where  he  boasted  that  he  had 
been  in  thirty-two  prisons.  He  died  in  1630,  aged 
eighty-one. 

Defoe  was  educated  at  a  Nonconformist  semi- 
nary at  Islington,  and  four  years  there  was  all  the 
education  the  clever  son  of  a  butcher  in  St.  Giles's 
seems  ever  to  have  had.  Edmund  Halley,  the 
celebrated  astronomer  royal,  fitted  up  an  observa- 
tory at  Islington;  and  resided  there  from  1682  till 
1696.  It  was  Halley  who  urged  Newton  to  write  the 
"  Principia,''  and  superintended  its  publication. 
He  is  accused  of  gross  unfairness  to  his  two  great 
contemporaries,  Leibnitz  and  Flamsteed,  breaking 
open  a  sealed  catalogue  of  fixed  stars  drawn  up 
by  the  latter,  and  printing  them  with  his  own  name. 

Halley's  greatest  work  was  the  iirst  prediction  of 
the  return  of  a  comet,  and  a  discovery  of  inequali- 
ties in  the  motion  of  Jupiter  and  Saturn,  which 
confirmed  Newton's  great  discovery  of  the  law  of 
gravitation. 

Mrs.  Foster,  the  granddaughter  of  Milton,  kept 
a  chandler's  shop  at  Lower  Hollows^  for  some 
years,  and  died  at  Islington  in  1754.  In  her  the 
family  of  MiUpn  becaine  exfinQt,      She  was  poor 


and  infirm,  and  in  1750  Comus  was  represented  at 
Drury  Lane  Theatre  for  her  benefit,  Dr.  Johnson 
writing  the  prologue,  which  was  spoken  by  Ganick. 
She  used  to  say  that  her  grandfather  was  harsh 
to  his  daughters,  and  refused  to  allow  them  to  be 
taught  to  write;  but  we  mustallow  perhaps  something 
for  the  perpetual  irritation  of  gout,  which  would 
sour  the  temper  of  an  archangel.  At  Newington 
Green  resided  Dr.  Richard  Price,  a  Nonconformist 
minister,  celebrated  for  his  financial  calculations 
in  connection  with  assurance  societies.  He  was  a 
friend  of  Howard,  Priestley,  and  Franklin,  and  was 
consulted  by  Pitt  as  to  the  adoption  of  the  Sinking 
Fund.  He  died  in  1791.  Mary  Woolstonecroft, 
the  wife  of  William  Godwin,  and  the  mother  of 
Mrs.  Shelley,  in  early  life  conducted  a  day-school 
at  Newington  Green.  She  was  one  of  the  first 
advocates  of  the  rights  of  women,  and  -died  in  1797. 

That  excellent  woman,  Mrs.  Barbauld,  was  wife 
of  Mr.  Barbauld,  a  minister  at  a  Unitarian  chapel 
on  Newington  Green.  Amongst  the  vicars  of  St. 
Mary's  we  should  not  forget  Daniel  Wilson,  Heber's 
successor  as  Bishop  of  Calcutta.  He  succeeded 
the  good  Cecil  at  St.  John's,  Bedford  Row.  Nelson, 
the  best  of  the  Islington  historians,  lived  and  died, 
says  Mr.  W.  Howitt,  at  his  house  at  the  corner  of 
Cumberland  Street,  Islington  Green.  Rogers,  the 
banker-poet,  was  born  in  1763  at  Newington 
Green,  "  the  first  house  that  presents  itself  on  the 
west  side,  proceeding  from  Ball's  Pond."  On  his 
mother's  side  Rogers  was  descended  from  Philip 
Henry,  the  father  of  Matthew  Henry,  the  pious 
author  of  the  well-known  exposition  of  the  Bible. 
In  one  of  the  detached  houses  opposite  Lorraine 
Place  Uved  that  pushing  publisher  and  projector. 
Sir  Richard  Phillips.  We  have  described  this 
active  minded  compiler  elsewhere.  Dr.  Jackson, 
Bishop  of  London,  was  for  a  time  head-master  of 
the  IsHngton  Proprietary  School. 

The  "  Duke's  Head,"  at  the  south-east  corner  of 
Cadd's  Row,  near  the  Green,  was,  in  the  middle 
of  the  last  century,  kept  by  Thomas  Topham, 
the  celebrated  "  Strong  Man"  of  Islington.  His 
most  celebrated  feats  were  pulling  against  a  horse 
at  a  wall  in  Moorfields ;  and,  finally,  in  1741,  in 
Coldbath  Fields,  lifting  three  hogsheads  of  water, 
weighing  1,831  pounds,  to  commemorate  the 
taking  of  Porto  Bello  by  Admiral  Vernon.  He 
once  hoisted  a  sleeping  watchman  in  his  box,  and 
dropped  both  box  and  watchman  over  the  wall 
into  Bunhill  Fields  Burying  Ground.  Towards  the 
close  of  his  life  this  unhappy  Samson  took  a 
public-house  in  Hog  Lane,  Shoreditch,  and  there, 
in  1749,,  in  a  paroxysm  of  just  jealousy,  he  stabbed 
his  unfortunate  wife  and  killed  himself. 


Canontu^y.] 


SWEEt  tVRAiSTNV. 


269 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 
CANONBURY. 

The  Manor  of  Canonbury — ^The  Rich  Spencer — Sweet  Tyranny — Canonbury  Hoube— Precautions  against  another  Flood — ^A  Literary  Retreat— 
The  Special  Glory  of  a  Famous  House— The  Decorative  Taste  of  a  Former  Age. 


The  manor  of  Canonbury,  so  called  from  a  mansion 
of  the  Prior  of  the  Canons  of  St.  Bartholomew, 
was  given  to  the  priory  by  Ralph  de  Berners, 
not  long  after  the  Conquest.  At  the  dissolution 
it  fell  into  the  receptive  hands  of  Cromwell,  the 
Lord  Privy  Seal,  and  at  his  execution  an  annuity 
from  the  manor  was  bestowed  on  ill-favoured 
Anne  of  Cleves.  In  1547  Canonbury  was  granted 
by  Edward  VI.  to  John  Dudley,  Earl  of  Warwick, 
from  whom  it  passed  to  the  ill-starred  Duke  of 
Northumberland,  only  a  few  months  before  his 
beheadal.  In  1570  Lord  Wentworth,  to  whom 
Queen  Mary  had  granted  the  manor,  alienated  it  to 
Sir  John  Spencer,  "  the  rich  Spencer"  who  figures 
so  often  in  the  civic  history  of  Elizabeth's  reign. 

Sir  John  was  an  alderman  and  clothworker  of 
London,  sheriff  in    1583-4,  and   Lord   Mayor  in 
1594.     He  appears  to  have  been  a  public-spirited 
honest  man,   and   often  stood  forward  boldly  in 
defence  of  the  Privileges   of  the  City.     On   one 
occasion  we  find  him  protesting  against  the  great 
Bridge  House  granaries  of  London  being  taken  as 
'  storehouses  for  the  navy ;  and  on  another,  resisting 
an  attempt  to  force  a  new  recorder  on  the  City.    He 
also  helped  actively  to  suppress  a  riot  of  London 
apprentices,  five  of  whom  were  hung  on  Tower  Hill. 
The  wealth  of  Sir  John  was  so  notorious,  that  it  is 
said  a  Dunkirk  pirate  once  contrived  a  plot,  with 
twelve  of  his  men,   to  carry  him  off,  in  hopes  of 
obtaining  ^^5  0,000  as  ransom.     The  men  came  in 
a  shallop  to  Barking  Creek,  and  hid  themselves  in 
ditches  near  a  field-path  leading  to  Sir  John's  house, 
but  luckily  for  Sir  John  he  was  detained  in  London 
that  night,  and  so  the  plot  was  frustrated.     The 
residence  of  this  citizen  at  Crosby  House,  where, 
in  1603,  he  entertained  the   French  ambassador, 
the  Marquis  of  Rosny,  afterwards  better  known  as 
the  Duke  of  Sully,  we  have  alluded  to  in  a  former 
chapter.     Sir  John's  only  daughter,  Elizabeth,  tra- 
dition says,  was  carried  off  from  Canonbury  House 
in  a  baker's  basket,  by  the  contrivance  of  her  lover, 
young  Lord   Compton,  and    Mr.   Lewis  says  this 
story  is  confirmed  by  a  picture  representing  the 
fact  preserved  among  the  family  paintings  at  Castle 
Ashby,  a  seat  of  the  Coraptons,  in  Northampton- 


I  shire.  An  old  Islington  vestry-clerk  has  preserved 
an  anecdote  about  this  curious  elopement.  Sir 
John,  incensed  at  the  stratagem,  discarded  his 
daughter,  till  Queen  Elizabeth's  kind  interference 
effected  a  reconciKation.  The  wily  queen,  watching 
her  opportunity,  requested  the  knight  to  stand 
sponsor  to  the  first  offspring  of  a  young  discarded 
couple.  Sir  John  complied,  honoured  and  pleased 
at  the  gracious  request,  and  her  Majesty  dictated 
his  own  surname  for  the  Christian  name  of  the 
child.  The  ceremony  over.  Sir  John  declared,  as  he 
had  discarded  his  undutiful  daughter,  he  would 
adopt  the  boy  as  his  son.  The  queen  then  told 
him  the  truth,  and  the  old  knight,  to  his  surprise, 
discovered  that  he  had  adopted  his  own  grandson, 
who  ultimately  succeeded  "  his  father  in  his  honour, 
his  grandfather  in  his  wealth."  Sir  John  died  in 
1609,  and  in  St.  Helen's  there  is  still  his  monument, 
with  his  daughter  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  his  effigy. 
At  his  funeral  about  a  thousand  persons,  clad  in 
black  gowns,  attended,  and  320  poor  men  had  each 
a  basket  given  them,  containing  a  black  gown,  four 
pounds  of  beef,  two  loaves  of  bread,  a  little  bottle 
of  wine,  a  candlestick,  a  pound  of  candles,  two 
saucers,  two  spoons,  a  black  pudding,  a  pair  of 
gloves,  a  dozen  points,  two  red  herrings,  four  white 
herrings,  six  sprats,  and  two  eggs. 

Lord  Compton's  mind  was  so  shaken  by  the  vast 
wealth  he  inherited  at  his  father-in-law's  death,  that 
he  became  for  a  time  insane.  He  died  in  1630,  of 
a  fit  produced  by  bathing  in  the  Thames,  after 
supping  at  Whitehall.  A  curiously  irnperious  letter 
of  his  wife  to  her  lord  was  published  in  the 
European  Magazine  of  1782.  It  begins  with  loving 
tyranny,  and  demands  the  most  ample  pin-money  : 

"My  Sweet  Life  —  Now  I  have  declared  to  you  my 
mind  for  the  settling  of  your,  state,  I  suppose  that  it  were 
best  for  me  to  bethink  or  consider  with  myself  what  allow- 
ance were  meetest  for  me.  For  considering  what  care  I  have 
had  of  your  estate,  and  how  respectfully  I  dealt  with  those 
which  both  by  the  laws  of  God,  of  nature,  and  of  civil  polity, 
wit,  religion,  government,  and  honesty,  you,  my  dear,  are 
bound  to,  I  pray  and  beseech  you  to  grant  me  £\,(><x>  per 
annum,  quarterly  to  be  paid." 

She  then  calmly  requires  ;^6oo  additional  for 
charitable  works,  three  horses  for  her  own  saddle, 


270 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Canonbury. 


two  mounted  gentlewomen,  six  or  eight  gentlemen, 
two  four-horse  coaches  lined  with  velvet  and  cloth, 
and  laced  with  gold  and  silver,  two  coachmen,  a 
horse  for  her  gentleman  usher,  and  two  footmen, 
twenty  gowns  a  year,  a  purse  of  ;^2,22o  to  pay 
her  debts,  ;^io,ooo  to  buy  jewels,  and  as  she  is  so 
reasonable,  schooUng  and  apparel  for  her  children, 
and  wages  for  her  servants,  furniture  for  all  her 
houses,  and  when  he  is  an  earl,  ;^i,ooo  more 
and   double  attendance.     In  truth  these  citizens' 


Well's  Row.  The  original  house  covered  the 
whole  of  what  is  now  Canonbury  Place,  and  had  a 
small  park,  with  garden  and  offices.  Prior  Bolton 
either  built  or  repaired  the  priory  and  church  of  St. 
Bartholomew,  and,  according  to  tradition,  as  Hall 
says,  in  his  chronicle,  fearing  another  flood,  he  built 
a  tower  on  Harrow  Hill,  and  victualled  it  for  two 
months.  Stow,  however,  redeems  the  prior  from 
ridicule,  by  telling  us  that  the  supposed  tower 
proved  to  be  only  a  dove-house. 


THE  NEW  RIVER  HEAD.     (From  a  View  published  in  1753.) 


daughters  knew  their  rights,  and  exacted  them. 
Lord  Compton  was  created  an  earl  in  161 8.  The 
second  earl,  a  brave  soldier,  was  killed  during  the 
Civil  War,  at  the  battle  of  Hopton  Heath,  in  1642-3. 
Canonbury  House  is  generally  supposed  to  have 
been  built  in  1362,  ten  years  after  Edward  III.  had 
exempted  the  priory  of  St.  Bartholomew  from  the 
payment  of  subsidies,  in  consequence  of  their  great 
outlay  in  charity.  Stow  says  that  William  Bolton 
(prior  from  1509  to  1532)  rebuilt  the  house,  and 
probably  erected  the  well-known  brick  tower,  as 
Nichols,  in  his  "  History  of  Canonbury,"  mentions 
that  his  rebus,  a  bolt  in  a  tun,  was  still  to  be  seen 
cut  in  stone,  in  two  places,  on  the  outside  facing 


The  mansion  was  much  altered  by  Sir  John 
Spencer,  who  came  to  reside  there,  in  splendour, 
about  1599,  and  it  is  now  divided  into  several 
houses,  Canonbury  Place  having  absorbed  the. 
grand  old  residence,  and  portioned  out  its  relics  oi" 
bygone  grandeur.  A  long  range  of  tiled  buildings, 
supposed  to  have  been  the  stables  of  the  old 
mansion,  but  which  had  become  an  appendage 
to  the  "Canonbury"  Tavern,  was  pulled  down  in 
1840.  A  tradition  once  prevailed  at  Islington  that 
the  monks  of  St.  Bartholomew  had  a  subterranean 
communication  from  Canonbury  to  the  priory  at 
Smithfield.  This  notion  had  arisen  from  the  dis- 
covery of  brick  archways   in   Canonbury,  which 


Canonbury.] 


CANONBURY    HOUSE. 


f]! 


seem  to  have  been  only  conduit  heads,  and  had 
really  served  to  lead  water  to  the  priory. 

After  the  Spencers,  the  Lord-Keeper  Coventry 
rented  this  i  house.  In  1635  we  find  the  Earl  of 
Derby  detained  here,  and  prevented  from  reaching 
St.  James's  by  a  deep  snow;  and  in  1685  the  Earl 


work,  in  1737.  This  Humphreys  was  a  second- 
rate  poet,  who  sang  the  glories  of  the  Duke  of 
Chandos's  seat  at  Canons,  and  whose  verse  Handel 
praised  for  its  harmony.  Ephraim  Chambers,  the 
author  of  one  of  the  earliest  cyclopaedias,  also  died 
here,  in  1740.    Among  other  lodgers  at  Canonbury 


CANUivBuKi^    TOWER,  ABOUT    180O. 


of  Denbigh  died  here.  About  17 19  it  seems  to 
have  been  let  as  lodgings.  In  1780  it  was  adver- 
tised as  a  suitable  resort  for  invalids,  on  account  of 
the  purity  of  the  air  of  Canonbury,  and  the  con- 
venience of  a  sixpenny  stage  every  hour  to  the 
City.  It  then  became  a  resort  for  literary  men, 
who  craved  for  quiet  and  country  air.  Amongst 
;hose  who  lodged*  there  was  Samuel  Humphreys, 
who  died  here  from  consumption,  produced  by  over- 


House  were  Onslow,  the  Speaker;  Woodfall,  who 
printed  "Junius;"  Deputy  Harrison,  many  years 
printer  of  the  London  Gazette,  and  Mr.  Robert 
Horsfield,  successor  to  Messrs.  Knapton,  Pope's 
booksellers.  * 

But  the  special  glory  of  the  old  house  is  the  fact 
that  here  Oliver  Goldsmith  for  a  time  lodged  and 
wrote,  and  also  came  here  to  visit  his  worthy  friend 
and    employer,    Mr.    John    Newbury,   the    good- 


^72 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Canonbury 


natured  publisher  of  children's  books,  who  resided 
here,  having  under  his  -protection  the  mad  poet, 
Christopher  Smart.  We  know  for  certain  that  at 
the  close  of  1762,  Goldsmith  lodged  at  Islington, 
at  the  house  of  a  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Fleming,  to  whom 
he  paid  £s°  ^  J^^'^-  This  choleric  and  strictly- 
just  landlady  had  her  portrait  taken  by  Hogarth, 
as  tradition  says,  when  he  paid  a  visit  to  Gold- 
smith. Goldsmith  frequently  mentions  Islington 
in  his  writings,  and  his  jovial  "shoemaker's  holi- 
days" were  frequently  made  in  this  neighbour- 
hood. The  poet  and  three  or  four  of  his  favourite 
friends  used  to  breakfast  at  his  Temple  chambers 
about  ten  a.m.,  apd  at  eleven  they  proceeded  by 
the  City  Road  and  through  the  fields  to  dinner 
at  Highbury  Barn.  About  six  in  the  evening  they 
adjourned  to  White  Conduit  House  to  tea,  and 
concluded  the  evening  by  a  merry  supper  at  the 
Grecian  or  the  Globe. 

"  The  two  principal  rooms,"  says  Lewis,  "  which 
are  in  the  first  and  second  storeys  of  the  plaister 
part  of  the  building  facing  Canonbury  Square,  and 
appear  to  have  been  fitted  up  by  Sir  John  Spencer, 
are  each  about  twenty  feet  square  and  twelve  feet 
high,  and  wainscoted  with  oak  from  the  floor  to  the 
ceiling  in  complete  preservation,  and  uncovered 
with  paint.  The  lower  room  is  divided  into  small 
panels,  with  fluted  pilasters  and  a  handsome  cornice ; 
and  over  the  fireplace  are  two  compartments  con- 
taining lions'  heads,  escalop  shells,  &c.,  in  finely 
carved  oak,  as  ■  represented  in  the  engraving.  The 
other  room,  which  is  over  this,  is  yet  more  highly 
ornamented  in  the  Grecian  taste,  with  carved 
wainscot  in  panels,  intersected  with  beautifully 
wrought  pilasters.  A  handsome  cornice  runs  round 
the  top,  composed  of  wreathed  foliage  and  escalop 
shells,  and  over  the  fireplace  are  two  female  figures 
carved  in  oak,  representing  '  Faith '  and  '  Hope,' 
with  the  mottoes,  '  Fides  •  Via  Deus  •  Mea,'  and 
'  Spes  certa  supra.'  These  are  surmounted  'by  a 
handsome  cornice  of  pomegranates,  with  other  fruit 
and  foliage,  having  in  the  centre  the  arms  of  Sir 
John  Spencer.  The  floors  of  both  rooms  are  of 
very  large  fir  boards,  the  ceilings  are  of  plain 
plaister,  and  the  windows  are  modern  glazed 
sashes,  opening  towards  Canonbury  Square. 

"  The  other  apartments  are  smaller  in  size,  and 
contain  nothing  worthy  of  remark.  On  the  white 
wall  of  the  staircase,  near  the  top  of  the  tower,  are 
some  Latin  hexameter  verstes,  comprising  the 
abbteviated  names  of  the  Kings  of  England,  from 
William  the  Conqueror  to  Charles  I.,  painted  in 
Roman  characters  an  inch  in  length,  but  almost 
obliterated.  The  lines  were  most  probably  the 
effusion  of  some  poetical  inhabitant  of  an  upper 


apartment  in  the  building,  during  the  time  of  the 
monarch  last  named,  such  persons  having  frequently 
been  residents  of  the  place. 

"  The  adjoining  house  contains  many  specimens 
of  the  taste  for  ornamental  carving  and  stucco 
work  that  prevailed  about  the  time  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth. At  the  top  of  the  first  flight  of  stairs  are  two 
male  caryatide  figures  in  armour,  and  a  female 
carved  in  wood,  fixed  as  ornaments  in  the  corners 
of  a  doorway;  and  the  ceilings  of  a  fine  set  of 
rooms  on  the  first  floor  are  elaborately  embellished 
with  a  variety  of  devices  in  stucco^  consisting .  of 
ships,  flowers,  foliage,  &c.,  with  medallions  of 
Alexander  the  Great,  Julius  Caesar,  Titus  Ves- 
pasian, &c.  The  arms  of  Queen  Elizabeth  are 
also  given  in  several  places,  one  of  which  bears 
also  her  initials  '  E.R.,'  and  the  date  1599,  at  which 
time  the  premises  were  fitted  up  by  Sir  John 
Spencer.  The  chimney-pieces  in  this  house  are 
very  handsome,  and  in  their  original  state  must 
have  had  a  rich  and  grand  appearance,  but  they 
are  now  covered  with  white  paint,  although  in 
other  respects  they  have  not  sustained  any  material 
injury.  One  of  them  exhibits  a  very  elaborate 
piece  of  workmanship  in  carved  oak,  containing 
figures  of  the  Christian  and  cardinal  virtues,  and 
the  arms  of  the  City  of  London,  with  those  of  Sir 
John  Spencer  and  the  Clothworkers'  Company,  of 
which  he  was  a  member.  There  is  also  a  mono- 
gram or  device,  apparently  intended  for  his  name, 
with  the  date  1601,  and  the  whole  is  supported  by 
caryatides  of  a  very  elegant  form.  In  another 
room  is  a  chimney-piece  divided  into  three  com- 
partments, and  intersected  by  handsome  columns 
with  Corinthian  capitals,  and  containing  a  mafe 
and  female  figure  in  long  robes,  with  the  arms  of 
Sir  John  Spencer  in  the  centre,  surrounded  by 
curious  carved  work.  The  Spencer  arms  and  the 
crest  (an  eagle  volant)  also  occur  in  other  parts 
of  the  sculpture,  and  the  whole  is  supported  by  two 
caryatides  bearing  on  their  heads  baskets  of  fruit. 
The  rooms  of  this  house  still  retain  the  ancient 
wainscoting  of  oak  in  square  and  lozenge  panels, 
but  covered  with  white  paint;  and  the  old  oak  stair- 
case also  remains,  together  with  several  ponderous 
doors  of  the  same  wood,  having  massive  bolts, 
hinges,  and  fastenings  of  iron. 

"In  another  adjoining,  house  is  a  handsome 
chimney-piece  of  carved  oak,  covered  with  white 
paint.  In  the  passage  of  the  house,  placed  over  a 
door,  is  an 'arch  having  a  blank  escutcheon,  and 
another  charged  with  the  rebus  of  Prior  Bolton. 
There  are  also  over  another  doqrway  the  arms  of 
Sir  Walter  Dennys,  who  was  knighted  (fifth  Henrj- 
VII.)  on  Prince   Arthur  being  created   Prince  of 


Highbury.] 


HIGHBURY  BARN. 


273 


Wales.  These  are  cut  on  a  stone  about  a  jrard 
square,  formerly  fixed  over  a  fireplace  in  another 
part  of  the  old  house,  but  since  placed  in  its 
present  situation,  with  the  following  inscription 
underneath : — 

" '  These  were  the  arms  of  Sir  Walter  Dennys, 
of  Gloucestershire,  who  was  made  a  knight  by 
bathing  at  the  creation  of  Arthur  Prince  of  Wales, 
in  November,  1489,  and  died  September  i,  zi 
Henry  VII.,  1505,  and  was  buried  in  the  church 
of  Olviston,  in  Gloucestershire.  He  married 
Margaret,  daughter  of  Sir  Richard  Weston,  Kijt., 


to  which  family  Canonbury  House  formerly  be- 
longed. The  carving  is  therefore  above  280  years 
old.' " 

The  latter  part  of  this  inscription  is  erroneous, 
says  Mr.  Lewis,  as  neither  the  Dennys  nor  Weston 
faniily  was  there  before  the  dissolution,  and  the 
carving  is  of  a  much  later  date. 

"The  old  mansion,  when  in  its  perfect  state, 
was  ornamented  with  a  turret,  &c.,  and  surrounded 
by  a,  highly  picturesque  neighbourhood,  as  shown 
in  a  scarce  print  pubhshed  by  Boydell  about 
1760." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
HIGHBURY— UPPER  HOLLOWAY— KING'S  CROSS.  • 

Jack  Straw's  Castle — A  Famous  Hunt — A  Celebrity  of  Highbury  Place — Highbury  Bam  and  the  Highbury  Society — Cream  Hall — Highbury 
Independent  College — "  The  Mother  Redcap  " — ^The  Blount  Family — Hornsey  Road  and  "  The  Devil's  House"  therein — Turpin,  the 
Highwayman — ^I'he  Corporation  of  Stroud  Green—Copenhagen  Fields — The  Corresponding  Society-n|Horne  Tooke — Maiden  Lane— Battle 
Bridge— The  "King's  Cross"  Dustheaps  and  Cinder-sifters — Small-pox  Hospital — The  Great  Northern  Railway  Station. 

twenty-five  years  this  faithful  servant  had  never 
slept  out  of  the  Bank  of  England,  and  his  Highbury 
house  was  only  a  pleasant  spot  where  he  could  rest 
for  a  few  hours.  He  resigned  his  situation  in  1807, 
on  which  occasion  he  declined  an  annuity  offered ' 
by  the  Company,  but  accepted  a  service  of  plate, 
valued  at  a  thousand  guineas.  He  left  ;^2oo,ooo, 
besides  _;^i,ooo  a  year,  arising  from  estates. 
He  made  his  money  chiefly  by  shares  of  loans  to 
Government,  in  which  he  could  safely  speculate. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  Southwark  baker. 

Another  distinguished  inhabitant  of  Highbury 
was  John  Nichols,  for  nearly  half  a  century  editor  of 
the  Gentleman's  Jkfagazme,  and  partner  of  William 
Bowyer,  the  celebrated  printer.  His  "Anecdotes 
of  Hogarth,"  and  his  "  History  of  Leicestershire," 
were  his  chief  works.  He  was  a  friend  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  and  seems  to  have  been  an  amiable, 
industrious  man,  much  beloved  by  his  friends.  He 
died  suddenly,  while  going  up-stairs  to  bed,  in  1826. 

Highbury  Barn  (built  on  the  site  of  the  barn  of 
the  prior's  old  mansion)  was  originally  a  small 
ale  and  cake  house.  It  was  the  old  rendezvous  of 
the  Highbury  Society  as  far  back  as  the  year  r74o. 
This  society  was  established  to  commemorate  the 
dropping  of  a  Schism  Act,  cruelly  severe  on 
Protestant  Dissenters,  and  which  was  to  have 
received  the  Royal  sanction  the  day  Queen  Anne 
died. 

"  The  party,"  says  a  chronicler  of  the  society, 
"  who  walked  together  from  London  had  a  rendez- 
vous in  Moorfields  at  oije  o'clock,  and  at  Dettingen 
Bridge   (where  the  house  known    hy  the  nam^ 


In  127  r  the  prior  of  the  convent  of  Knights  Hos- 
pitallers of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  at  Clerkenwell, 
purchased  an  old  manor  house  here,  as  a  summer 
residence,  and  it  was  afterwards  rebuilt  higher  to 
the  eastward,  changing  its  name  from  Tolentone 
to  Highbury  In  the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  when 
Wat  Tyler  and  his  bold  Kentish  men  poured  down 
on  London,  a  detachment  under  Jack  Straw,  Wat's 
lieutenant,  who  had  previously  plundered  and  burnt 
the  Clerkenwe'll  convent,  pulled  down  the  house  at 
Highbury.  The  ruins  afterwards  became  known 
as  "Jack  Straw's  Ca,stle."  It  is  thought  by  anti- 
quaries that  the  prior's  moated  house  had  been 
the  prsetorium  of  the  summer  camp  of  the  Roman 
garrison  of  London. 

Many  of  the  old  conduit  heads  belonging  to  the 
City  were  at  Highbury  and  its  vicinity,  one  of  these 
supphed  the  parish  of  St.  Giles's,  Cripplegate ;  and 
Mr.  Lewis  mentions  another  remaining  in  1842,  in 
a  field  opposite  No.  14,  Highbury  Place.  It  might 
have  been  from  Highbury  that  the  hunt  took  place, 
noted  by  Strype  as  occurring  in  1562,  when  the 
Lord  Mayor,  aldermen,  and  many  worshipful  per- 
sons rode  to  the  Conduit  Heads,  then  hunted  and 
killed  a  hare,  and,  after  dining  at  the  Conduit 
Head,  hunted  a  fox  and  killed  it,  at  the  end  of  St. 
Giles's,  Cripplegate,  with  a  great  hallooing  and 
blowing  of  horns  at  his  death;  and  thence  the 
Lord  Mayor,  with  all  his  company,  rode  through 
London  to  his  place  in  Lombard  Street. 

One  of  the  former  celebrities  of  Highbury  Place 
was  that  well-known  chief  cashier  of  the  Bank  of 
England,   honest  old    Abraham  Newlarid.      For 


274 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[Holloway, 


of  the  '  Shepherd  and  Shepherdess '  now  stands), 
they  chalked  the  initials  of  their  names  on  a  post, 
for  the  information  of  such  as  might  follow.  They 
then  proceeded  to  Highbury ;  and,  to  beguile  their 
way,  it  was  their  custom  in  turn  to  bowl  a  ball 
of  ivory  at  objects  in  their  path.  This  ball  has 
lately  been  presented  to  the  society  by  Mr.  William' 
Field.  After  a  slight  refreshment,  they  proceeded 
to  the  field  for  exercise ;  but  in  those  days  of 
greater  economy  and  simplicity,  neither  wine, 
punch,  nor  tea  was  introduced,  and  eightpence  was 
generally  the  whole  individual  expense  incurred. 
A  particular  game,  denominated  hop-ball,  has  from 
time  immemorial  formed  the  recreation  of  the 
members  of  this  society  at  their  meetings.  On  a 
board,  which  is  dated  1734,  which  they  use  for 
the  purpose  of  marking  the  game,  the  following 

.motto  is  engraven  : — '  Play  justly ;  play  mode- 
rately ;  play  cheerfully ;  so  shall  ye  play  to  a 
rational  purpose.'  It  is  a  game  not  in  use  else- 
where in  the  neighbourhood  of  London,  but  one 
something  resembling  it  is  practised  in  the  West 
of  England.  The  ball  used  in  this  game,  con- 
sisting of  a  ball  of  worsted  stitched  over  with  silk 
or  pack-thread,  has  from  time  immemorial  been 
gratuitously  furnished  by  one  ,  or  another  of  the 
members  of  the  society.  The  following  toast  has 
been  always  given  at  their  annual  dinner  in  August, 
viz. : — 'The  glorious  ist  of  August,  with  the  im- 
mortal memory  of  King  William  and  his  good 
Queen  Mary,  not  forgetting.  Corporal  John ;  and 
a  fig  for  the  Bishop  of  Cork,  that  bottle-stopper.' 
John,  Duke  of  Marlborough,  was  probably  intended 
as  the  person  designated  Corporal  John."  The 
Highbury  Society,  says  an  authority  on  such  sub- 
jects, was  dissolved  about  the  year  1833. 

At    a    little   distance   northward   of    Highbury 

,  Barn  was  another  dairy-farm  called  Cream  Hall, 
where  Londoners  came,  hot  and  dusty,  on  shiny 
summer  afternoons,  to  drink  new  milk  and  to  eat 
custards,  smoking  sillabubs,  or  cakes  dipped  in 
frothing  cream.  Gradually  Highbury  farm  grew 
into  a  tavern  and  tea-gardens,  and  the  barn,  was 
added  to  the  premises,  and  fitted  up  as  the  principal 
room  of  the  tavern,  and  there  the  court  baron  for 
the  manor  was  held.  Mr.  Willoughby,  an  enter- 
prising proprietor  who  died  in  1785,  increased  the 
business,  and  his  successors  added  a  bowling- 
green,  a  trap  ball-ground,  and  more  gardens.  A 
hop-garden  and  a  brewery  were  also  started,  and 
charity  and  club  dinners  became  frequent  here. 
The  barn  could  accommodate  nearly  2,000  persons 
at  once,  and  800  people  have  been  seen  dining 
together,  with  seventy  geese  roasting  for  them  at 
one  fire.  "In   1808,  the  Ancient  Freemasons  sat  I 


down,  500  in  number,  to  dinner;  and  in  1841, 
3,000  licensed  victuallers.  There  is  now  a  theatre 
and  a  dancing-room,  and  all  the  features  of  a  modern 
Ranelagh.  The  Sluice  House,  Eel  Pie  House,  and 
Hornsey-wood  House  were  old  haunts  of  anglers 
and  holiday-makers  in  this  neighbourhood. 

Highbury   Independent   College    was   removed 
from  Hoxton  in  1826.     The  institution  began  iii- 
a  house  at  Mile   End,  rented,  in    1783,   by  Dr. 
Addington,  for  a  few  students  to  be  trained  for 
the  ministry.     The  present  site  was  purchased  for 
;£'2,ioo,  by  the  treasurer,  Mr.  Wilson,  and  given 
to   the   charity.     The   building   cost  upwards  of 
;^i 5,000.      "The    Congregationalist    College  at 
Highbury,  an  offshoot  from  the  one  at  Homerton," 
says  Mr.  Howitt,  "was  built  in  1825,  and  opened 
in  September,  1826,  under  the  superintendence  of 
Drs.  Harris,  Burder,  and  Halley,  for  the  education 
of  ministers  of  that  persuasion.     Amongst  the  dis- 
tinguished men  whom  this  college   produced  are 
the  popular  minister  of  Rowland  Hill's  Chapel, 
Blackfriars  Road,   the    Rev.  Newman   Hall,  and 
Mr.  George   Macdonald,   the   distinguished  poet, 
lecturer,  and  novelist.     Mr.  Macdonald,  however, 
had    previously   graduated    at    the    University  of 
Aberdeen,  and  had  there  taken  his  degree  of  M.A. 
In  1850  the  buildings  and  property  of  the  College 
of  Highbury  were  disposed  of  to  the  Metropolitan 
Church  of  England  Training  Institution,- and  the 
business  of  the  college  transferred  to  New  College, 
St.  John's  Wood,  into  which  the  three  Dissenting 
colleges  of  Homerton,    Coward,    and   Highbury, 
were  consolidated." 

A  well-known  public-house  the  "  Mother  Red- 
cap," at  Upper  Holloway,  is  celebrated  by  Drunken 
Barnaby  in  his  noted  doggerel.  The  "Half 
Moon,"  a  house  especially  celebrated,  was  once 
famous  for  its  cheesecakes,  which  were  sold  in 
London  by  a  man  on  horseback,  who  shouted 
"Holloway  cheesecakes  !" 

In  an  old  comedy,  caRed.  Jacke  Drum's  Entertain- 
ment (4to,  1 601),  on  the  introduction  of  a  Whitsun 
morris-dance,  the  following  song  is  given  : — 

"  Skip  it  and  trip  it  nimbly,  nimbly, 
Tickle  it,  tickle  it  lustily, 
Strike  up  the  tabor  for  the  wenches  favour, 
Tickle  it,  tickle  it,  lustily. 

"  Let  us  be  seene  on  Hygate  Greene 
To  dance  for  the  honour  of  Hollov/ay. 
Since  we  are  come  hither,  let's  spare  for  no  leather, 
To  dance  for  the  honour  of  Holloway." 

Upper  Holloway  was  the  residence  of  the  ancient 
and  honourable  Blount  family,  during  a  considerable 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century.    Sir  Henry  Blount, 


Holloway.] 


COPENHAGEN   FIELDS. 


275 


who  went  to  the  Levant  in  1634,  wrote  a  curious 
book  of  travels,  and  helped  to  introduce  coffee 
into  England.  He  is  said  to  have  guarded  the 
sons  of  Charles  I.  during  the  battle  of  Edgehill. 
His  two  sons  both  became  authors.  Thomas 
wrote  "  Remarks  on  Poetry,"  and  Charles  was  a 
Deist,  who  defended  Dryden,  attacked  every  one 
else,  and  wrote  the  life  of  Apollonius  Tyaneus. 
He  shot  himself  in  1693,  in  despair  at  being  re- 
fused ecclesiastical  permission  to  marry  the  sister 
of  his  deceased  wife.  The  old  manor  house  of  the 
Bloimts  was  standing  a  few  years  ago. 

Hornsey  Road,  which  in  Camden's  time  was  a 
"  sloughy  lane "  to  Whe'tstone,  by  way  of  Crouch 
End,  seventy  years  ago  had  only  three  houses,  and 
no  side  paths,  and  was  impassable  for  carriages. 
It  was  formerly  called  Devil's,  or  Du  Val's,  Lane, 
and  further  back  still  Tollington  Lane.  There 
formerly  stood  on  the  east  side  of  this  road,  near 
the  junction  with  the  Seven  Sisters'  Road,  an 
old  wooden  moated  house,  called  "  The  Devil's 
House,"  but  really  the  site  of  old  Tollington 
House.  Tradition  fixed  this  lonely  place  as  the 
retreat  of  Duval,  the  famous  French  highwayman 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  After  he  was  hung 
in  1669,  he  lay  in  state  at  a  low  tavern  in  St. 
Giles's,  and  was  buried  in  the  middle  aisle  of 
St.  Paul's,  Covent  Garden,  by  torchlight.  The 
tradition  -is  evidently  erroneous,  as  the  Devil's 
House  in  Devil's  Lane  is  mentioned  in  a  survey 
of  Highbury  taken  in  16 11  (James  I.)  .  Duval 
may,  however,  have  affected  the  neighbourhood,  as 
near  a  great  northern  road.  The  moat  used  to  be 
crossed  by  a  bridge,  and  the  house  in  1767  was  a 
public-house,  where  Londoners  went  to  fish,  and 
enjoy  hot  loaves,  and  milk  fresh  from  the  cow. 
In  1737,  after  Turpin  had  shot  one  of  his  pursuers 
near  a  cave  which  he  haunted  in  Epping  Forest, 
he  seems  to  have  taken  to  stopping  coaches  and 
chaises  at  Holloway,  and  in  the  back  lanes  round 
Islington.  A  gentleman  telling  him  audaciously  he 
had  reigned  long,  Dick  replied  gaily,  '"Tis,  no 
matter  for  that,  I'm  not  afraid  of  being  taken  by 
you ;  so  don't  stand  hesitating,  but  stump  up  the 
cole."  Nevertheless,  the  gallows  came  at  last  to 
Dick. 

Stroud  Green  (formerly  a  common  in  Highbury 
Manor)  boasts  an  old  house  which  once  belonged 
to  the  Stapleton  family,  with  the  date  1609.  It 
was  afterwards  converted  into  a  public-house,  and 
a  hundred  and  thirty  years  ago  had  in  front  the 
following  inscription — 

"  Ye  are  welcome  all 
To  Stapleton  Hall. 

About    a  century    ago   a    society    from    the 


"  Queen's  Arms  "  Tavern,  Newgate  Street,  used  to 
meet  annually  in  the  summer  time  at  Stroud  Green, 
to  regale  themselves  in  the  open  air.  They  styled 
themselves  "The  Lord  Mayor,  Aldermen,  and 
Corporation  of  Stroud  Green,"  and  the  crowd  that 
joined  them  made  the  place  resemble  a  fair. 

Copenhagen  Fields  were,  it  is  said,  the  site 
of  a  public-house  opened  by  a  Dane,  about  the 
time  when  the  King  of  Denmark  paid  his  visit  to 
his  brother-in-lav/,  James  I.  In  Camden's  map, 
1695,  it  is  called  "Coopen  Hagen,"  for  the  Danes 
who  were  then  frequenting  it  had  kept  up  the 
Danish  pronunciation.  Eventually,  after  the  Re- 
storation, it  became  a  great  tea-house,  and  a  resort 
for  players  at  skittles  and  Dutch  pins. 

The  house  was  much  frequented  for  its  tea- 
gardens,  its  fine  view  of  the  Hampstead  and  High- 
gate  heights,  and  the  opportunities  it  afforded  for 
recreation.  Hone  was  told  by  a  young  woman  who 
had  been  the  landlady's  assistant  that  in  1780  a 
body  of  the.  Lord  George  Gordon  rioters  passed 
Copenhagen  House  with  blue  banners  flying,  on 
their  way  to  attack  Caen  Wood,  the  seat  of  Lord 
Mansfield,  and  that  the  proprietor  was  so  alarmed 
at  this,  that  at  her  request  Justice  Hyde  sent  a 
party  of  soldiers  to  protect  the  establishment.  Soon 
after  this  a  robbery  at  the  house  was  so  much  talked 
of,  that  the  visitors  began  to  increase,  and  addi- 
tional rooms  had  to  be  built.  The  place  thien  be- 
came famous  for  fives-playing,  and  here  Cavanagh, 
the  famous  Irish  player,  immortalised  in  a  vigorous 
essay  by  Hazlitt,  won  his  laurels.  In  18 19  Hazlitt, 
who  was  an  enthusiast  about  this  lively  game, 
writes,  "  Cavanagh  used  frequently  to  play  matches 
at  Copenhagen  House  for  wagers  and  dinners. 
The  wall  against  which  they  play  is  the  same  that 
supports  the  kitchen  chimney ;  and  when  the  ball 
resounded  louder  than  usual,  the  cooks  exclaimed, 
'  Those  are  the  Irishman's  balls,'  and  the  joints 
trembled  on  the  spit."  The  .next  landlord  en- 
couraged dog-fighting  and  bull-baiting,  especially 
on  Sunday  mornings,  and  his  licence  was  in  con- 
sequence refused  in  18 16. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  French  Revolution,  when 
the  Tories  trembled  with  fear  and  rage,  the  fields 
near  Copenhagen  House  were  the  scene  of  those 
meetings  of  the  London  Corresponding  Society, 
which  so  alarmed  the  Government.  The  most  threat- 
ening of  these  was  held  on  October  26,  1795, 
when  Thelwall,  and  other  sympathisers  with  France 
and  liberty,  addressed  40,000,  and  threw  out  hints 
that  the  mob  should  surround  Westminster  on  the 
29th,  when  the  king  would  go  to  the  House.  The 
hint  was  attended  to,  and  on  that  day  the  king  was 
shot  at;  but  escaped  unhurt.     In  1794  many  mem,' 


276 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[King's  Cross, 


bers  of  the  Corresponding  Society,  including  Hardy, 
Tbelwall,  Holcroft,  and  Home  Tooke,  had  been 
tried  for  treason  in  connection  with  the  doings  of 
the  society,  but  were  all  acquitted. 

After  Home  Tooke's  acquittal,  he  is  reported  to 
have  remarked  to  a  friend,  that  if  a  certain  song, 
exhibited  at  the  trial  of  Hardy,  had  been  produced 
against  him,  he  should  have  sung  it  to  the  jury ; 
that,  as  there  was  no  treason  in  the  words,  they 
might  judge  if  there  was  any  in  the  music. 


hall,  to  present  an  address  to  his  Majesty  (which, 
however,  Lord  Melbourne  rejected),  signed  by 
260,000  unionists,  on  behalf  of  some  of  their  col- 
leagues who  had  been  convicted  at  Dorchester  for 
administering  illegal  oaths.  Among  the  leaders 
appeared  prominently  Robert  Owen,  the  socialist, 
and  a  Radical  clergyman  in  full  canonicals,  black 
silk  gown  and  crimson  Oxford  hood. 

Maiden    Lane   (perhaps   Midden    or    Dunghill 
Lane),  an  ancient  way  leading  from  Battle  Bridge 


COPENHAGEN  HOUSE.     (From  a  View  taken  about  l%0O.) 


As  he  was  returning  from  the  Old  Bailey  to 
Newgate,  one  cold  night,  a  lady  placed  a  silk 
handkerchief  round  his  neck,  upon  which  he  gaily 
said,  "Take  care,  madam,  what' you  are  about, 
for  I  am  rather  tickHsh  in  that  place  just  now." 
During  his  trial  for  high  treason,. Tooke  is  said  to 
have  expressed  a  wish  to  speak  in  his  own  defence, 
and  to  liave  sent  a  message  to  Erskine  to  that 
effect,  saying,  "  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  don't !"  to  which 
Erskine  wrote  back,  "  You'll  be  hanged  if  you  do." 
In  April,  r834,  an  immense  number  of  persons  of 
the  trades'  unions  assembled  in  the  Fields,  to 
form  part  of  a  procession  of  40,000  men  to  White- 


to  Highgate,  and  avoiding  the  hill,  was  once  the 
chief  road  for  northern  travellers.  At  present, 
bone-stores,  chemical  works,  and  potteries  render 
it  peculiarly  unsavoury. 

Battle  Bridge  is  so  called  for  two  reasons.  In 
the  first  place,  there  was  formerly  a  small  brick 
bridge  over  the  Fleet  at  this  spot ;  and,  secondly, 
because,  as  London  tradition  has  steadily  affirmed, 
here  was  fought  the  great  battle  between  Suetonius 
Paulinus,  the  Roman  general,  and  Boadicea,  the 
Queen  of  the  Iceni.  It  is  still  doubtful  whether 
the  scene  of  the  great  battle  was  so  near  London, 
but  there  is  still  much  to  be  said  in  its  favour. 


King's  Cross.] 


DEFEAT  OF  BOADICEA. 


277 


The  arguments  pro  and  con  are  worth  a  brief  dis- 
cussion. Tacitus  describes  the  spot,  with  his  usual 
sharp,  clear  brevity.  "  Suetonius,"  he  says,  "  chose 
a  place  with  narrow  jaws,  backed  by  a  forest." 
Now  the  valley  of  the  Fleet,  between  Perttonville 
and  Gray's  Inn  Lane,  backed  by  the  great  northern 
forest  of  Middlesex,  undoubtedly  corresponds  with 
this  description,  but  then  Tacitus,  always  clear  and 
vivid,  makes  no  mention  of  the  river  Fleet,  which 
■would  have  been  most  important  as  a  defence  for 


bius  expressly  tells  us,  when  Julius  Caesar  forced 
the  passag'e  of  the  Thames,  near  Chertsey,  an 
elephaiit,  with  archers  in  a  houdah  on  its  back,  led 
the  way,  and  drove  the  astonished  Britons  to  flight. 
Another  important  proof  also  exists.  In  1842  a 
fragment  of  a  Roman  monumental  inscription  was 
found  built  into  a  cottage  on  the  east  side  of  Maiden 
Lane.  It  was  part  of  the  tomb  of  an  officer  of  the 
twentieth  legion,  which  had  been  dug  up  in  a  field 
on  the  west  side  of  the  road  leading  to  the  Cale- 


KING'S  CROSS,     {from  a  View  taken  during  its  demolition  in  1845.) 


the  front  and  flank  of  the  Roman  army,  and  this 
raises  up  serious  doubts.  The  Roman  summer 
camp  near  Bamsbury  Park,  opposite  Minerva 
Terrace,  in  the  Thornhill  Road,  we  have  already 
mentioned.  There  was  a  prsetorium  there,  a  raised 
breastwork,  long  visible  from  the  Caledonian  Road, 
a  well,  and  a  trench.  In  1825  arrow-heads  and 
red-tiled  pavements  were  discovered  in  this  spot. 

In  1680  John  Conyers,  an  antiquarian  apothe- 
cary of  Fleet  Street,  discovered  in  a  gravel-pit  near 
the  "  Sir  John  Oldcastle,"  in  Coldbath  Fields,  the 
skeleton  of  an  elephant,  and  the  shaft  and  flint 
head  of  a  British  spear.  Now  it  is  certain  that  the 
Romans  in  Britain  employed  elephants,  as  Poly- 
72— Vol.  II. 


donian  Asylum.  This  legion  formed  part  of  the 
army  of  Claudius  which  Paulinus  led  against  Boa- 
dicea.  Mr.  Tomlins,  however,  is  inclined  to  think 
that  a  fight  took  place  at  Battle  Bridge  during  the 
early  Danish  invasions. 

The  great  battle'  with  the  Romans,  wherever  it 
took  place,  was  an  eventful  one,  and  was  one  of 
the  last  great  efforts  of  the  Britons.  Suetonius,  with 
nearly  10,000  soldiers,  waited  for  the  rush  of  the 
wild  200,000  half-savage  men,  who  had  already 
sacked  and  destroyed  Colchester,  St.  Albans,  and 
London.  His  two  legions  were  in  the  centre,  his 
light-armed  troops  at  hand,  while  his  cavalry  formed 
his  right  and  left  wings.     Boadicea  and  her  two 


278 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[King's  Cross. 


daughters,  in  a  war-chariot,  was  haranguing  her 
troops,  while  the  wives  of  her  soldiers  were  placed 
in  wagons  at  the  rear  end  of  the  army,  to  view  the 
battle.  The  Britons  rushed  to  the  attack  with 
savage  shouts,  and  songs  of  victory ;  the  Romans 
received  their  charge  with  showers  of  javelins,  and 
then  advanced  in  the  form  of  a  wedge,  the  Britons 
eagerly  opening  their  ranks,  to  surround  and  de- 
vour them  up.  The  British  chariots,  armed  with 
scythes,  made  great  havoc  among  the  Romans, 
till  Suetonius  ordered  his  legionaries  to  aim  only  at 
the  charioteers.  The  Britons,  however,  after  a  stub- 
born fight,  gave  way  before  the  close  ranks  of 
disciplined  warriors,  leaving  some  80,000  men  upon 
the  field,  while  the  Romans,  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
are  reported  to  have  lost  only  400  men.  The  line 
of  wagons  with  the  women  proved  a  fatal  obstruc- 
tion to  the  flight  of  the  Britons.  The  last  fact  to 
be  recorded  about  the  Romans  at  Battle  Bridge  is 
the  discovery,  in  1845,  under  the  foundation  of  a 
house  in  Maiden  Lane,  of  an  iron  urn,  full  of  gold 
and  silver  coins  of  the  reign  of  Constantine. 

Gossiping  Aubrey  mentions  that  in  the  spring  after 
the  Great  Fire  of  London  the  ruins  were  all  over- 
gro\vn  with  the  Neapolitan  cress,  "  which  plant," 
says  he,  "  Thomas  Wilhs  (the  famous  physician^ 
told  me  he  knew  before  but  m  one  place  about 
town,  and  that  was  .at  Battle  Bridge,  by  the  '  Finder 
of  Wakefield,'  and  that  in  no  great  quantity."  In 
the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  says  Stow,  a  miller  of 
Battle  Bridge  was  set  in  the  pillory  in  Chepe,  and 
had  his  ears  cut  off,  for  uttenng  seditious  words 
against  the  Duke  of  Somerset.  In  173 1,  John 
Everett,  a  highwayman,  was  hung  at  Tyburn,  for 
stopping  a  coach  and  robbing  some  ladies  at  Battle 
Bridge.  The  man  had  served  in  Flanders  as  a 
sergeant,  and  had  since  kept  an  ale-house  in  the 
Old  Bailey. 

In  1830  Battle  Bridge  assumed  the  name  of 
King's  Cross,  from  a  ridiculous  octagonal  struc- 
ture crowned  by  an  absurd  statue  of  George  IV., 
wliich  was  erected  at  the  centre  of  six  roads 
which  there  united.  The  building,  ornamented  by 
^ight  Doric  columns,  was  sixty  feet  high,  and  was 
crowned  by  a  statue  of  the  king  eleven  feet  high. 
Pugin,  in  that  bantering  book,  "  The  Contrasts," 
ridiculed  this  effort  of  art,  and  contrasted  it  with 
the  beautiful  Gothic  market  cross  at  Chichester. 
The  Gothic  revival  was  only  just  then  beginning,  and 
the  dark  age  was  still  dark  enough.  The  basement 
was  first  a  pohce-station,  then  a  pubhc-house  with  a 
camera-obscura  in  the  upper  storey.  The  hideous 
monstrosity  was  removed  in  1845.  Battle  Bridge, 
which  had  been  a  haunt  of  thieves  and  murderers, 
was  first  built  upon  by  Mr.  Bray  and  others,  on  the 


accession  of  George  IV.,  when  sixty-three  houses 
were  erected  in  Liverpool  Street,  Derby  Street, 
&c.  The  locality  being  notorious,  it  was  proposed 
to  call  it  St.  Georgfe's  Cross,  or  Boadicea's  Cross, 
but  Mr.  Bray  at  last  decreed  that  King's  Cross  was 
to  be  the  name. 

Early  in   the    century   the   great  dust-heaps  of 
London  (where  now  stand  Argyle,  Liverpool,  and 
Manchester  Streets)  were  some  of  the  disgraces  of 
London;  and  when  the  present  Caledonian  Road 
was  fields,  near  Battle  Bridge  were  heaped  hillocks 
of  horse-bones.     The  Battle  Bridge  dustmen  and 
cinder-sifters  were  the  pariahs  of  the  metropolis. 
The  mountains  of  cinders  and  filth  were  the  debris 
of  years,  and  were  the  haunts  of  innumerable  pigs. 
The  Russians,  says  the  late  Mr.  Pinks,  in  his  ex- 
cellent "History  of  Clerkenwell,"  bought  all  these 
ash-heaps,  to   help   to   rebuild  Moscow  after  the 
•French  invasion.    The  cinder-ground  was  eventually 
sold,  in  1826,  to  the  Pandemonium  Company  for 
p^i5,ooo,  who  walled  in  the  whole  and  built  the 
Royal  Clarence  Theatre  at  the  comer  of  Liverpool 
Street.     Somewhere  near'this  Golgotha  was  a  piece 
of  waste  ground,  where  half  the  brewers  of  the 
metropolis   shot   their  grains   and  hop-husks.     It 
became  a  great  resort  for  young  acrobats  and  clowns 
(especially  on  Sunday  mornings),  who  could  here 
tumble    and   throw   "  flip-flaps "   to    their  hearts' 
content,  without  fear  of  fracture  or  sprain. 

In  1864  Mr.  Grove,  an  advertising  tailor  of  Battle 
Bridge,  bought  Garrick's  villa,  at  Hampton,  for 
;^io,8oo.  In  1826,  opposite  the  great  cinder-moun- 
tain of  Battle  Bridge,  was  St.  Chad's  Well,  a  chaly- ' 
beate  spring  supposed  to  be  useful  in  cases  of  liver 
attacks,  dropsy,  and  scrofula.  About  the  middle  of 
the  last  century  800  or  900  persons  a  morning  used 
to  come, and  drink  these  waters,  and  the  gardens 
were  laid  out  for  invalids  to  promenade. 

The  Great  Northern  Railway  Terminus  at 
King's  Cross  occupies  more  than  forty-five  acres 
of  land.  For  the  site  of  the  passenger  station, 
the  Small-pox  and  Fever  Hospital  was  cleared 
away.  The  front  towards  Pancras  Road  has  two 
main  arches,  each  71  feet  span,  separated  by 
a  clock  tower  120  feet  high.  The  clock  has 
dials  9  feet  in  diameter,  and  the  principal  bell 
weighs  29  cwt.  Each  shed  is  800  feet  long,  105 
feet  wide,  and  71  feet  high  to  the  crown  of  the 
semicircular  roof,  without  a  tie.  The  roof  is  fonned 
of  laminated  ribs  20  feet  apart,  and  of  inch-and-a- 
half  planks  screwed  to  each  other.  The  granary 
has  six  storeys,  and  will  hold  60,000  sacks  of  com. 
On  the  last  storey  are  water-tanks,  holding  150,000 
gallons;  and  the  grain  is  hoisted  by.  hydraulic 
apparatus.      The  goods  shed  is  600  feet  in  length, 


Psntonville.] 


"WHITE  CONDUIT  HOUSE." 


279 


and  80  feet  wide  ;  and  the  roof  is  glazed  with  cast 
glass  in  sheets,  8  feet  by  2  feet  6  inches.  Under 
the  goods  platform  is  stabling  for  300  horses.  The 
shed  adjoins  the  Regent's  Canal,  which,  from 
thence,  enters  the  Thames  at  Limehouse.  The 
coal  stores  will  contain  15,200  tons.     The  buildings 


are  by  Lewis  and  Joseph  Cubitt.  Th(,  railway 
passes  under  the  Regent's  Canal  and  Maiden  Lane, 
beneath  Copenhagen  Fields,  over  the  Holloway 
Road,  through  tunnels  at  Homsey  and  elsewhere, 
and  over  a  viaduct  at  Welwyn,  with  forty-two  arches, 
30  feet  wide,  and  97  feet  high  (Timbs). 


CHAPTER      XXXV. 
PENTONVILLE. 

Origin  of  the  Name— The  "  Belvidere  "  Tavern— The  Society  of  Bull  Feathers'  Hall— Penton  Street— Joe  Grimaldi— Christ  Church—"  White  Conduit 
House  :'*  OKver  Goldsmith  a  Visitor  there — Ancient  Conduits  at  Pentonville — Christopher  Bartholomew's  Reverses  of  Fortune — The  Penton- 
ville  Penitentiary — The  Islington  Cattle  Market — A  Daring  Scheme — Celebrated  Inhabitants  of  Hermes  Hill — Dr.  de  Valangin — Sinner- 
Saved  Huntington — ^Joe  Grimaldi  and  the  Dreadful  Accident  at  Sadler's  Wells — King's  Row  and  Happy  Man's  Place — Thomas  Cooke,  the 
Miser — St.  James's  Chapel,  Pentonville — A  Blind  Man's  favourite  Amusement — Clerkenwell  in  1789 — Pentonville  Chapel — Prospect  House^ 
"  Dobney's  " — The  Female  Penitentiary — A  Terrible  Tragedy. 


The  site  of  Pentonville  was  once  an  outlying  pos- 
session of  the  priory  of  St.  John,  Clerkenwell,  and 
called  the  "  Commandry  Mantels,"  from  its  having 
belonged  to  Geoffrey  de  Mandeville — vidgo,  Mantell. 
Eventually  the  fields  were  given  to  the  Hospitallers. 
There  were  springs  and  conduit-heads  in  the 
meadows;  and  Gerard,  the  Elizabethan  herbalist, 
specially  mentions  the  white  saxifrage  as  growing 
abundantly  there. 

The  district  of  Pentonville,  once  a  mere  name- 
less vassal  of  Clerkenwell  and  Islington  (the  latter 
itself  a  comparative  parvenu),  received  its  present 
name  from  Henry  Penton,  Esq.,  member  for  Win- 
chester, and  a  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  who  died  in 
181 2,  and  on  whose  estate  the  first  buildings  in 
Penton  Street  were  erected,  according  to  Mr.  Pinks, 
about  the  year  1773. 

The  "Belvidere"  Tavern,  at  the  comer  of  Penton 
Street,  was  at  an  early  period  the  site  of  a  house 
known  as  "  Busby's  Folly,"  probably  from  Chris- 
topher Busby,  who  was  landlord  of  the  "Whyte 
Lyon,"  at  Islington,  in  1668.  In  1664  (four  years 
after  the  Restoration),  the  members  of  the  quaint 
Society  of  Bull  Feathers'  Hall  met  at  the  Folly 
before  marching  to  Islington,  to  claim  the  toll  of 
all  gravel  carried  up  Highgate  Hill.  Their  thirty 
pioneers,  with  spades  and  pickaxes,  were  preceded 
in  the  hall  procession  by  trumpeters  and  horn- 
blowers.  Their  standard  was  a  large  pair  of  horns 
fixed  to  a  pole,  and  with  pennants  hanging  to  each 
tip.  Next  came  the  flag  of  the  society,  attended 
by  the  master  of  the  ceremonies.  After  the  flag 
came  the  mace-bearers  and  the  herald-at-arms  of 
the  society.  The  supporters  of  the  arms  were  a 
woman  with  a  whip,  and  the  motto,  "  Ut  volo,  sic 
jubeo ; "  on  the  other  side,  a  rueful  man,  and  the 
motto,  "  Patientia  patimur." 

This  singular  club  met  in  Chequer  Yard,  White- 


chapel,  the  president  wearing  a  crimson  satin 
gown,  and  a  furred  cap  surmounted  by  a  pair  of 
antlers,  while  his  sceptre  and  crown  were  both 
horned.  The  brethren  of  this  great  and  solemn  fra- 
ternity drank  out  of  horn  cups,  and  were  sworn 
as  members  on  a  blank  horn-book.  Busby's  house 
retained  its  name  as  late  as  17 10,  but  was  after- 
wards called  "Penny's  Folly."  It  had  fourteen 
windows  in  front ;  and  here  men  with  learned 
horses,  musical  glasses,  and  sham  philosophical 
performances,  gave  evening  entertainments.  The 
"  Belvidere "  Tavern  was  in  existence  as  early  as 
1780,  and  was  famous  for  its  racket-court.  At  No. 
37,  Penton  Street,  that  emperor  of  English  clowns, 
Joe  Grimaldi,  lived  in  1797,  after  his  marriage  with 
Miss  Hughes,  the  pretty  daughter  of  the  manager 
of  Sadler's  Wells.  Penton  Street  was  then  the 
St.  James's  or  Regent's  Park  of  the  City  Road 
quarter. 

On  the  west  side  of  Penton  Street  is  a  new 
church,  opened  in  1863.  It  contains  sittings  for 
1,259  persons,  and  with  the  site  cost  about  ;^8,6oo. 
The  first  incumbent  was  Dr.  Courtenay,  formerly, 
curate  of  St.  James's,  Pentonville.  St.  James's  was 
made  a  district,  assigned  out  of  the  parish  of  St. 
James's,  Clerkenwell,  in  1854.  On  the  east  side 
of  Penton  Street  formerly  stood  that  celebrated 
Cockney  place  of  amusement,  "White  Conduit 
House."  The  original  tavern  was  erected  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  I.,  and  the  curious  tradition  was 
that  the  workmen  were  said  to  have  been  regaling 
themselves  after  the  completion  of  the  building 
the  very  hour  that  King  Charles's  head  fell  at  the 
Whitehall  scaffold.  In  1754  "White  Conduit 
House"  was  advertised  as  having  for  its  fresh  attrac- 
tions a  long  walk,  a  circular  fish-pond,  a  number  of 
pleasant  shady  arbours,  enclosed  with  a  fence  seven 
feet  high,  hot  loaves  and  butter,  milk  direct  from 


28o 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Pentonville. 


the  COW,  coffee,  tea,  and  other  liquors,  a  cricket- 
field,  unadulterated  cream,  and  a  handsome  long 
room,  with  "copious  prospects,  and  airy  situa- 
tion." In  1760  the  following  spirited  verses  de- 
scribing the  place,  by  William  Woty,  author  of  the 
"  Shrubs  of  Parnassus,"  appeared  in  the  Gentlemaris 
Magazine : — 

"  Wish'd  Sunday's  come — mirth  brightens  every  face, 

And  paints  the  rose  upon  the  house-maid's  cheek, 

Harriott,  or  Moll  more  ruddy.     Now  the  heart 

Of  prentice,  resident  in  ample  street. 

Or  alley,  kennel-wash'd,  Cheapside,  Cornhill, 

Or  Cranbome,  thee  for  calcuments  renown'd, 

With  joy  distends — his  meal  meridian  o'er. 

With  switch  in  hand,  he  to  White  Conduit  House 

Hies  merry-hearted.     Human  beings  here. 

In  couples  multitudinous,  assemble, 

Forming  the  drollest  groupe  that  ever  trod 

Fair  Islingtonian  plains.     Male  after  male, 

Dog  after  dog  succeeding— husbands,  wives, 

Fathers  and  mothers,  brothers,  sisters,  friends, 

And  pretty  little  boys  and  girls.    Around, 

Across,  along  the  garden's  shrubby  maze 

They  walk,  they  sit,  they  stand.     What  crowds  press  on 

Eager  to  mount  the  stairs,  eager  to  catch 

First  vacant  bench,  or  chair,  in  long  room  plac'd ! 

Here  prig  with  prig  holds  conference  polite, 

And  indiscriminate  the  gaudy  beau 

And  sloven  mix.     Here,  he  who  all  the  week 

Took  bearded  mortals  by  the  nose,  or  sat 

Weaving  dead  hairs,  and  whistling  wretched  strain. 

And  eke  the  sturdy  youth,  whose  trade  it  is 

Stout  oxen  to  contund,  with  gold-bound  hat 

And  silken  stocking  strut.     The  red-armed  belle 

Here  shews  her  tasty  gown,  proud  to  be  thought 

The  butterfly  of  fashion ;  and,  fo^ooth. 

Her  haughty  mistress  deigns  for  once  to  tread 

The  same  unhallowed  floor.     'Tis  hurry  all. 

And  rattling  cups  and  saucers.     Waiter  here. 

And  Waiter  there,  and  Waiter  here  and  there, 

At  once  is  called,  Joe,  Joe,  Joe,  Joe,  Joe ! 

Joe  on  the  right,  and  Joe  upon  the  left. 

For  every  vocal  pipe  re-echoes  Joe ! 

"Alas !  poor  Joe !  like  Francis  in  the  play. 
He  stands  confounded,  anxious  how  to  please 
The  many-headed  throng.     But  should  I  paint 
The  language,  humours,  custom  of  the  place. 
Together  with  all  curtseys,  lowly  bows, 
And  compliments  extern,  'twould  swell  my  page 
Beyond  its  limits  due.     Suffice  it  then 
For  my  prophetic  muse  to  say,  'So  long 
'  As  Fashion  rides  upon  the  wing  of  Time, 
While  tea  and  cream,  and  butter'd"  rolls,  can  please, 
While  rival  beaux  and  jealous  belles  exist. 
So  long.  White  Conduit  House  shall  be  thy  fame.'  " 
About  this  time  the  house  and  its  customers  were, 
referred  to  by  Oliver  Goldsmith.     He  says,  "  After 
having  surveyed    the  curiosities  of  this  fair  and 
beautiful  town    (Islington),  I  proceeded  forward, 
leaving  a  fair  stone  building  on  my  right.     Here 
the    inhabitants   of    London    often    assemble   to 
celebrate  a  feast  of  hot  rolls  and  butter."   Seeing 


such  numbers,  each  with  their  little  tables  before 
them,  employed  on  this  occasion,  must  no 
doubt  be  a  very  amusing  sight  to  the  looker-on, 
but  still  more  so  to  those  who  perform  in  the 
solemnity.'' 

"  White  Conduit  Loaves,"  says  Mr.  Timbs,  "was 
one  of  the  common  London  street-cries,  before  the 
'French  war  raised  the  price  of  bread." 

Washington  Irving,  in  his  "  Life  of  Goldsmith," 
says  : — "  Oliver  Goldsmith,  towards  the  close  of 
1762,  removed  to  'Merry  Islington,'  then  a  country 
village,  though  now  swallowed  up  in  omnivorous 
London.  In  this  neighbourhood  he  used  to  take 
his  solitary  rambles,  sometimes  extending  his  walks 
to  the  gardens  of  the  '  White  Conduit  House,'  so 
famous  among  the  essayists  of  the  last  century. 
While  strolling  one  day  in  these  gardens  he  met 
three  daughters  of  the  family  of  a  respectable 
tradesman,  to  whom  he  was  under  some  obligation. 
With  his  prompt  disposition  to  oblige,  he  conducted 
them  about  the  garden,  treated  them  to  tea,  and 
ran  up  a  bill  in  the  most  open-handed  manner 
imaginable.  It  was  only  when  he  came  to  pay  that 
he  found  himself  in  one  of  Ijis  old  dilemmas.  H6 
had  not  the  wherewithal  in  his  pocket.  A  scene 
of  perplexity  now  took  place  between  him  and  the 
waiter,  in  the  midst  of  which  came  up  some  of  his 
acquaintances,  in  whose  eyes  he  wiphed  to  stand 
particularly  well.  When,  however,  they  had  en- 
joyed their  banter,  the  waiter  was  paid,  and  poor 
Goldsmith  enabled  to  carry  off  the  ladies  with 
flying  colours." 

This  popular  place  of  amusement  derives  its 
name  from  an  old  stone  conduit,  removed  in  1831, 
and  used  to  repair  part  of  the  New  Road.  It  bore 
the  date  1641,  and  beneath,  the  arms  of  Sutton,  the 
founder  of  the  Charterhouse,  with  initials  and  mono- 
grams probably  of  past  masters.  The  conduit,  re- 
paired by  Sutton,  was  built  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI., 
and  it  supplied  the  Carthusian  friars.  The  water- 
house  was  used  by  the  school  till  about  1654,  when 
the  supply  fell  short,  and  a  New  River  supply  was 
decided  on.  The  site  of  the  conduit  was  at  the 
back  of  No.  10,  Penton  Street,  at  the  corner  of 
Edward  Street.  There  was  a  smaller  conduit  at 
the  back  of  White  Conduit  Gardens,  close  to  where 
Warren  Street  now  stands.  In  18 16,  Huntington 
(Sinner  Saved)  the  preacher,  cleansed  the  spring, 
but  his  enemies  choked  it  with  mud  to  spite  him. 
Latterly,  however,  the  Conduit  House  fell  to  ruins, 
and  the  upper  floors  became  a  mighty  refuge  for 
tramps  and  street  pariahs. 

An  old  drawing  of  173 1  represents  White  Con- 
duit House  as  a  mere  tall  building,  with  four  front 
windows,  a  gable  roof,  a  side  shed,  and  on  the  oth?r 


Penton^lle.] 


THE   PENTONVILLE   PENITENTIARY. 


281 


side  the  conduit  itself.     On  either  hand  stretched 
bare  sloping  fields  and  hedge-rows. 

The  anonymous  writer  of  the  "  Sunday  Ramble," 
1774,  describes  the  place  as  having  boxes  for  tea, 
cut  into  the  hedges  and  adorned  with  pictures; 
pleasant  garden  walks,  a  round  fish-pond,  and  two 
handsome  tea-rooms.  Later  the  fish-pond  was  filled 
up,  and  an  Apollo  dancing-room  erected.  In  1826 
a  "  Minor  Vauxhall"  was  established  here,  and  the 
place  became  somewhat  disreputable.  Mr.  Chabert, 
the  fire-eater,  after  a  collation  of  phosphorus,  arsenic, 
and  oxalic  acid,  with  a  sauce  of  boiling  oil  and 
molten  lead,  walked  into  an  oven,  preceded  by  a  leg 
of  lamb  and  a  rump-steak,  and  eventually  emerged 
with  them  completely  baked,  after  which  the  spec- 
tators dined  with  him.  Graham  also  ascended  from 
these  gardens  in  his  balloon.  In  this  year  Hone 
talks  of  the  gardens  as  "just  above  the  very  lowest," 
though  the  fireworks  were  as  good  as  usual.  , 

About  1827  archery  was  much  practised;  and  in 
1828  the  house  was  rebuilt  with  a  great  ball-room 
and  many  architectural  vagaries.  A  writer  in  the 
Mirror  of  1833  says  : — "Never  mind  Pentonville, 
it  is  not  now  what  it  was,  a  place  of  some  rural 
beauty.  The  fields  behind  it  were,  in  my  time,  as 
wild  and  picturesque,  with  their  deep-green  lanes, 
richly  hedged  and  studded  with  flowers,  which 
have  taken  fright  and  moved  off  miles  away — 
and  their '  stately  elms  and  hillocks  green,'  as  they 
are  now  melancholy  and  cut  up  with  unfurnished, 
and,  of  course,  unoccupied  rows  of  houses,  run  up 
during  the  paroxysm  of  the  brick  and  mortar 
mania  of  times  past,  and  now  tumbling  in  ruins, 
with  the  foolish  fortunes  of  the  speculators.  The 
march  of  town  innovation  upon  the  suburbs  has 
driven  before  it  all  that  was  green,  silent,  and  fitted 
for  meditation.  Here,  too,  is  that  paradise  of 
apprentice  boys,  'White  Cundick  ,Couse,'  as  it  is 
cacophoniously  pronounced  by  its  visitors,  which 
has  done  much  to  expel  the  decencies  of  the  dis- 
trict. Thirty  years  ago  this  place  was  better  fre- 
quented— that  is,  there  was  a  larger  number  of 
respectable  adults ;  fathers  and  mothers,  with  their 
children,  and  a  smaller  moiety  of  shop-lads,  and 
such -like  Sunday  bucks,  who  were  awed  into  decency 
by  their  elders.  The  manners,  perhaps,  are  much 
upon  a  par  with  what  they  were.  The  ball-room 
gentlemen  then  went  through  country  dances  with 
their  hats  on  and  their  coats  off.  Hats  are  now 
taken  off,  but  coats  are  still  unfashionable  on  these 
gala  nights.  The  belles  of  that  day  wore  long 
trains  to  their  gowns.  It  was  a  favourite  mode  of 
introduction  to  a  lady  there  to  tread  on  the  train, 
and  then  apologising  handsomely,  acquaintance  was 
begun,  and  soon  ripened  into  an  invitation  to  tea 


and  the  hot  loaves  for  which  these  gardens  were 
once  celebrated.  Being  now  a  popular  haunt,  those 
who  hang  on  the  rear  of  the  march  of  human 
nature,  the  sutlers,  camp-folloiVers,  and  plunderers, 
know  that  where  large  numbers  of  men  or  boys  are 
in  pursuit  of  pleasure,  there  is  a  sprinkling  of  the. 
number  to  whom  vice  and  debauchery  are  ever 
welcome;  they  have,  therefore,  supplied  what  these 
wanted,  and  Pentonville  may  now  hold  up  its  head, 
and  boast  of  its  depravities  before  any  other  part 
of  London." 

The  place  grew  worse  and  worse,  till,  in  1849, 
the  house  was  pulled  down  and  streets  built  on 
its  site.  The  present  "White  Conduit"  Tavern 
covers  a  portion  of  the  original  gardens.  Mr. 
George  Cruikshank  has  been  heard  to  confess 
that  some  of  his  early  knowledge  of  Cockney 
character,  and,  indeed,  of  City  human  nature,  was 
derived  from  observing  evenings  at  White  "  Conduit 
House." 

An  old  proprietor  of  the  gardens,  who  died  in 
181 1,  Mr.  Christopher  Bartholomew,  was  beheved 
to  have  realised  property  to  the  amount  of  ^50,000. 
The  "  Angel,"  at  Islington,  was  also  his ;  and  he 
used  to  boast  that  he  had  more  haystacks  than 
any  one  round  London.  He,  however,  became  a 
prey  to  the  vice  of  gambling,  and  is  said  at  last 
to  have  sometimes  spent  more  than  2,000  guineas 
in  a  single  day  in  insuring  numbers  at  the  lottery. 
By  degrees  he  sank  into  extreme  poverty,  but  a 
friend  giving  him  half  of  a  sixteenth  of  a  favourite 
number,  that  turned  up  a  ;!^2o,ooo  prize,  he  again 
became  affluent,  only  to  finally  sink  into  what 
proved  this  time  irreparable  ruin. 

The  Pentonville  Penitentiary  was  the  result  of  a 
Government  Commission  sent  over  to  America  in 
1832,  to  inquire  into  the  system  of  isolation  so 
much  belauded  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
"Many  people,"  says  Mr.  Dixon  in  his  "London 
Prisons,"  published  in  1850,  "were  seduced  by  the 
report  issued  in  1834,  into  a  favourable  impression 
of  the  Philadelphian  system ;  and,  amongst  these, 
Lord  John  Russell,  who,  being  secretary  for  the 
Home  Department,  got  an  Act  introduced  into  Par- 
liament in  1839  (2  &  3  Vict.  c.  56),  containing  a 
clause  rendering  separate  confinement  legal  in  this 
country.  A  model  prison  on  this  plan  was  resolved 
upon.  Major  Jebb  was  set  to  prepare  a  scheme  of 
details.  The  first  stone  was  laid  on  the  loth  of  April, 
1840,  and  the  works  were  completed  in  the  autumn 
of  1842,  at  a  cost  of  more  than  ;£'9o,ooo.  The 
building  so  erected  consists  of  five  wings  or  galleries, 
radiating  from  a  point,  the  view  from  which  is  very 
striking,  and  at  the  same  time  very  unprison-like. 
On  the  sides  of  four  of  these  galleries  the  cells  are 


282 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[PentoonOe. 


situate,  and  numbered.  There  are  520  of  them, 
but  not  more  than  500  are  ever  occupied.  If  we 
divide  ^^90,000  by  500,  we  shall  find  that  the 
accommodation  for  each  criminal  costs  the  country 
j^iSo  for  cell-room  as  original  outlay. 
.  "  Last  year  the  expenses  of  mere  management 
at  Pentonville  were  ^^16,392  is.  yd. ;  the  daily 
average  of  prisoners  for  the  year  was  457 ;  con- 
sequently, the  cost  per  head  for  victualling  and 
management  was  nearly  ;^36. 


Embankment,  projected  by  Martin,  the  painter, 
and  others,  and  the  Holborn  Viaduct,  projected  by 
Mr.  Charles  Pearson)  was  planned  out  nearly  half 
a  century  ago,  by  active  London  minds.  In  1833 
John  Perkins,  Esq.,  of  Bletchingley,  in  Surrey, 
struck  with  the  dirt  and  cruelty  of  Smithfield,  and 
the  intolerable  danger  and  mischief  produced  by 
driving  vast  and  half-wild  flocks  and  herds  of  cattle 
through  the  narrow  and  crowded  London  streets, 
projected  a  new  market  in  the  fine  grazing  dis- 


BATTLE  BRIDGE   IN    181O. 


"  This  flourishing  institution,  then,  stands  thus  in 
account  with  the  nation  yearly : — The  land  given  for 
nothing,  i.e.,  not  set  down  in  the  account ;  taxes, 
ditto ;  interest  of  outlay,  ;^i  00,000  at  5  per  cent., 
;^5,ooo ;  cost  of  maintenance,  ;^i 5,000;  repairs, 
&c.  (for  1847  this  item  is  nearly  ;^3,ooo).  If  we 
take  the  three  items  here  left  blank  at  an  average 
of  ;^2,ooo,  a  very  moderate  estimate  for  the  yearly 
drain,  we  shall  have  a  prison  capable  of  accom- 
modating 450  prisoners,  at  a  charge  upon  county 
rates  of  ;^2  2,ooo  per  annum;  or,  in  another  form, 
at  about  ;^so  per  head  for  each  prisoner  yearly. 
Compare  this  with  the  cost  of  the  maintenance  of 
the  poor  in  workhouses,  ye  disciples  of  economy  \" 
'  The  Islington  Cattle  Market  (like  the  Thames 


trict  north  of  the  metropolis.  The  place  was  built 
at  an  expense  of  _;^ioo,ooo,  and  opened  under  an 
Act  of  Parliament,  April  i8th,  1836.  So  strong, 
however,  was  the  popular  and  Conservative  in- 
terest in  old  abuses,  that  the  excellent  new  market 
proved  a  total  failure,  and  was  soon  closed.  Thfe 
area  for  cattle  at  Islington  was  nearly  fifteen  acres, 
abutting  on  the  road  leading  from  the  Lower  Street 
to  Ball's  Pond.  It  was  enclosed  by  a  brick  wall, 
ten  feet  high,  and  had  vast  sheds  on  all  the  four 
sides.  A  road  ran  entirely  round  the  market, 
which  was  quadrated  by  paths  crossing  it  at  right 
angles,  and  there  was  to  have  been  a  central 
circus,  to  be  used  as  an  exchange  for  the  greasy 
graziers  and  bustling  salesmen,  with  offices  for  the 


Pentonv.Ke.l 


THE  METROPOLITAN   CATTLE  MARKET. 


283 


money- takers  and  clerks  of  the  market.  The  mar- 
ket was  capable  of  accommodating  7,000  head  of 
cattle,  500  calves,  40,000  sheep,  and  1,000  pigs.  The 
principal  entrance  from  the  Lower  Road  had  an 
arched  gateway,  and  two  arched  footways.  Poor 
Mr.  Perkins,  he  was  before  his  age.  The  spot  was 
excellently  chosen,  lying  as  it  does  near  the  great 
roads  from  the  northern  and  eastern  comities, 
the  great  centres  of  cattle,  and  communicating 
easily  with  the  town  by  means  of  the  City  Road, 


Copenhagen  Fields."  It  was  calculated  that  the 
undertaking  would  pay  the'  subscribers  i2|  per 
cent,  on  the  capital  embarked,  which  was  to  be 
;^2oo,ooo;  but  the  proposition  met  with  little 
encouragement,  and  was  soon  abandoned. 

The  present  Metropolitan  Cattle  Market  occupies  ■ 
seventy-five  acres  of  ground.     The  market-place  is 
an  irregular  quadrangle,  with  a  lofty  clock-tower  in 
the  centre,  and  four  taverns  at  the  four  corners,  the 
open  area  being  set  off  into  divisions  for  the  dif- 


WHITE  CONDUIT  HOUSE  ABOUT    182O. 


which  was  also  convenient  for  the  western  part  of 
London.  Twenty  years  later,  in  1852,  the  nuisance 
of  Smithfield  (thanks,  perhaps,  to  "  Oliver  Twist ") 
became  unbearable,  even  to  the  long-suffering 
abuse-preservers ;  so  Smithfield  was  condemned  to 
be  removed,  and  a  new  cattle-market  was  opened  in 
Copenhagen  Fields  in  1855,  and  that  enriched  dis- 
trict now  rejoices  in  many  cattle  and  all  the  attend- 
ing delights  of  knackers'  yards,  slaughterhouses, 
tripe -dressers,  cats'-meat-boilers,  catgut-spinners, 
bone-boilers,  glue-makers,  and  tallow-melters. 

It  was  proposed  by  a  company  of  projectors, 
in  the  year  1812,  to  establish  a  sea-water  bathing- 
place  at  Copenhagen  Fields,  by  bringing  water 
through  iron  pipes  "from  the  coast  of  Essex  to 


ferent  kinds  of  live  stock.  No  less  than  ;£'40o,ooo 
have  been  expended  upon  the  land  and  buildings. 
In  the  parts  of  the  market  appropriated  for  the  re- 
ception of  the  different  cattle,  each  central  rail  is 
decorated  with  characteristic  casts  of  heads  of  oxen, 
sheep,  pigs,  &c. ;  these  were  designed  and  modelled 
by  Bell,  the  sculptor.  The  open  space  of  the 
market  will  accommodate  at  one  time  about  7,000 
cattle  and  42,000  sheep,  with  a  proportionate  num- 
ber of  calves  and  pigs.  The  calf  and  pig  markets 
are  covered,  the  roofs  being  supported  by  iron 
columns,  which  act  at  the  same  time  as  water- 
drains.  In  the  centre  of  the  whole  area  is  a  twelve- 
sided  structure,  called  "Bank  Buildings,"  sur- 
mounted by  an  elegant  campanile,  or  bell  tower. 


284 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Fentonville, 


The  twelve  sides  give  entrance  to  twelve  sets  of 
offices,  occupied  by  bankers,  salesmen,  railway 
companies,  and  electric  telegraph  companies.  In 
one  year  (1862)  the  returns  were  304,741  bullocks, 
1,498,500  sheep,  27,951  calves,  and  29,470  pigs. 
The  great  Christmas  sale,  in  the  closing  year  of  old 
Smithfield,  ranged  from  6,000  to  7,000  bullocks,  and 
between  20,000  and  25,000  sheep.  On  December 
15,  1862,  the  bullocks  were  8,340,  being  a  greater 
number  than  ever  before  known  at  any  metro- 
politan market.  The  market-days  for  cattle,  sheep, 
and  pigs  are  Mondays  and  Thursdays.  There  is  a 
miscellaneous  market  for  horses,  asses,  and  goats 
on  Fridays.     (Timbs.) 

At  a  large  house  on  Hermes  Hill,  afterwards  (in 
18 11)  occupied  by  "  Sinner-saved  Huntington," 
the  converted  coal-heaver,  a  useful  man  in  his 
generation,  resided,  in  the  last  century,  from  1772 
till  his  death  in  1805,  Dr.  de  Valangin,  an  eminent 
Swiss  physician,  who  had  been  a  pupil  of  Boerhaave. 
He  called  this  hill  "Hermes,"  from  Hermes  Tris- 
megistus,  the  fabled  Egyptian  king,  and  discoverer 
of  chemistry,  to  whom  fawning  Lord  Bacon  com- 
pared James  L,  because,  forsooth,  that  slobbering, 
drunken  monarch  was  king,  priest,  and  philosopher. 
De  Valangin — the  inventor  of  several  useful  and 
useless  medicines,  including  the  "  balsam  of  life," 
which  he  presented  to  Apothecaries'  Hall — was 
'  the  author  of  a  sensible  book  on  diet,  and  "the 
four  non-naturals."  The  doctor,  who  was  a  man  of 
taste  and  benevolence,  marrj^d  as  his  second  wife 
the  widow  of  an  eminent  surveyor  and  builder,  who, 
says  Mr.  Pinks,  had  recovered  ^r,ooo  for  a  breach 
of  promise,  from  a  lover  who  had  jilted  her.  He 
buried  one  of  his  daughters  in  his  garden,  but  the 
body  was  afterwards  removed  to  the  vaults  of  Crip- 
plegate  Church.  In  his  book  (1768)  De  Valangin 
particularly  mentions  the  increased  use  of  brandy- 
and-water  by  English  people.  His  house  was  re- 
markable for  a  singular  brick  tower  or  observatory, 
which  was  taken  down  by  the  next  tenant. 

That  eccentric  preacher,  WilHam  Huntington,  was 
an  illegitimate  son,  whose  reputed  father  was  a 
day-labourer  in  Kent.  In  youth  he  was  alternately 
an  errand-boy,  gardener,  cobbler,  and  coal-heaver. 
He  seems,  even  when  a  child,  to  have  been 
endowed  with  an  extraordinary  deep  sensibiHty  to 
religious  impressions,  and  early  in  life  he  began  to 
exhort  men  to  save  their  souls,  and  flee  the  wrath 
to  come,  and,  we  fully  believe,  in  all  sincerity, 
though  his  manner  was  vulgar.  His  original  name 
was  Hunt,  but  flying  the  country  to  escape  the 
charge  of  an  illegitimate  child,  he  took  for  safety 
the  name  of  Huntington;  and,  unable tto  pay  for 
a  Dissenting  title  of  D.D.,  he  christened  himself 


S.S.  (sinner  saved).  Huntington  seems  to  have 
had  a  profound  beUef  in  the  efficacy  of  faith  and 
prayer.  Whether  it  was  tea,  a  horse,  a  pulpit,  or 
a  hod  of  lime,  he  prayed  for  it,  he  tells  us,  and  it 
came.  Even  a  pair  of  leather  breeches  was  thus 
supplied,  as  he  mentions  in  his  John  Bunyan  way. 

"I  often,"  he  says,  "made  very  free  in  my 
prayers  with  my  invaluable  Master  for  this  favour ; 
but  he  still  kept  me  so  amazingly  poor,  that  I 
could  not  get  them,  at  any  rate.  At  last  I  was 
determined  to  go  to  a  friend  of  mine  at  Kingston, 
who  is  of  that  branch  of  business,  to  bespeak  a 
pair,  and  to  get  him  to  trust  me  until  my  Master 
sent  me  money  to  pay  him.  I  was  that  day  going 
to  London,  fully  determined  to  bespeak  them  as  I 
rode  through  the  town.  However,  when  I  passed 
the  shop,  I  forgot  it ;  but  when  I  came  to  London 
I  called  on  Mr.  Croucher,  a  shoemaker  in  Shep- 
herds' Market,  who  told  me  a  parcel  was  left  there 
for  me,  but  what  it  was  he  knew  not.  I  opened  it, 
and  behold,  there  was  a  pair  of  leather  breeches  with 
a  note  in  them,  the  substance  of  which  was  to 
the  best  of  my  remembrance  as  follows: — 'Sir, — 
I  have  sent  you  a  pair  of  breeches,  and  I  hope 
they  will  fit.  I  beg  your  acceptance  of  them ;  and 
if  they  want  any  alteration,  leave  in  a  note  what 
the  alteration  is,  and  I  will  call  in  a  few  days 
and  alter  them. — J.  S.'  I  tried  them  on,  and  they 
fitted  as  well  as  if  I  had  been  measured  for 
them ;  at  which  I  was  amfized,  having  never  been 
measured  by  any  leather  breeches  maker  inLondon.'' 

S.  S.  had  strong  belief  in  eternal  perdition,  and 
attacked  the  mad  prophet  Brothers,  for  his  wild  pro- 
phecies of  the  sudden  fall  of  the  Turkish,  German, 
and  Russian  empires.  When  Huntington's  chapel,  in 
Tichfield  Street  was  burnt,  his  congregation  erected 
a  new  one  on  the  east  side  of  Gray's  Inn  Lane,  at 
a  cost  of  _;^9,ooo,  of  which  he  craftily  obtained  the 
personal  freehold.  By  his  first  wife  S.  S.  had  thirteen 
children ;  he  then  married  the  widow  of  Sir  James 
Sanderson,  who  came  one  day  to  his  chapel  to 
ridicule  him,  but  "remained  to  pray,"  and  to  fall 
in  love.  He  died  in  18 13,  and  was  buried  in  a 
garden  in  the  rear  of  Jireh  Chapel,  on  the  cliff  at 
Lewes.  A  few  hours  before  his  death,  at  Tun- 
bridge  Wells,  he  dictated  the  following  epitaph  for 
himself : — 

"  Here  lies  the  coal-heaver,  who  departed  this  life  July  I, 
1813,  in  the  69th  year  of  his  age,  beloved  of  his  God,  but 
abhorred  of  men.  The  omniscient  Judge,  at  the  grand  assize, 
shall  ratify  and  confirm  this,  to  the  confusion  of  many 
thousands ;  for  England  and  its  metropolis  shall  know  that 
there  hath  been  a  prophet  among  them. — W.  H.,  S.  S." 

At  the  sale  of  his  goods  at  Pentonville,  which 
reahsed  ;^i,8oo,  a  humble  admirer  bought  a  barrel 
of  ale,  as  a  souvenir  of  his  pastor. 


Pentonville.] 


JOSEPH  GRIMALDI. 


285 


"When,"  says  Huntington,  "I  first  began  to 
open  my  mouth  for  the  Lord,  the  master  for  whom 
I  carried  coals  was  rather  displeased;  at  which  I 
do  not  wonder,  as  he  was  an  Arminian  of  the 
Arminians,  or  a  Pharisee  of  the  Pharisees.  I  told 
him,  however,  that  I  should  prophesy  to  thou- 
sands before  I  died ;  and  soon  after  the  doors  began 
to  be  opened  to  receive  my  message.  When  this 
appeared,  and  I  had  left  the  slavish  employment  of 
coal-carrying,  others  objected  to  my  master  against 
such  a  fellow  as  me  taking  up  the  office  of  a  minister. 
His  answer  was,  '  Let  him  alone.  I  once  heard  him 
say  that  he  should  prophecy  to  thousands  before 
he  died ;  let  us  see  whether  this  prophecy  comes 
to  pass  or  not.' " 

"Huntington  is  described  as  having  been,  towards 
the  close  of  his  career,  a  fat  burly  man  with  a  red 
face,  which  rose  just  above  the  cushion,  and  a  thick, 
guttural  and  rather  indistinct  voice." 

"  His  pulpit  prayers,"  writes  a  contemporary,  "  are 
remarkable  for  omitting  the  king  or  his  country. 
He  excels  in  extempore  eloquence.  Having  for- 
mally announced  his  text,  he  lays  his  Bible  at 
once  aside,  and  never  refers  to  it  again.  He  has 
every  possible  text  and  quotation  at  his  finger's 
end.  He  proceeds  directly  to  his  object,  and, 
except  such  incidental  digressions  as  'Take  care 
of  your  pockets!'  'Wake  that  snoring  sinner!' 
'  Silence  that  noisy  numskull ! '  '  Turn  out  that 
drunken  dog !'  he  never  deviates  from  his  course. 
Nothing  can  exceed  his  dictatorial  dogmatism. 
Believe  him — none  but  him — thaf  s  enough.  When 
he  wishes  to  bind  the  faith  of  his  congregation,  he 
will  say,  over  and  over,  '  As  sure  as  I  am  bom,  'tis 
so;'  or,  'I  believe  this,'  or  '  I  know  this,'  or  '  I  am 
sure-  of  it,'  or  '  I  beheve  the  plain  Enghsh  of  it  to 
be  this.'  And  then  he  will  add,  by  way  of  clench- 
ing his  point,  '  Now  you  can't  help  it ; '  or,  '  It 
must  be  so,  in  spite  of  you.'  He  does  this  with  a 
most  significant  shake  of  the  head,  and  with  a  sort 
of  Bedlam  hauteur,  with  all  the  dignity  of  defiance. 
He  will  then  sometimes  observe,  softening  his 
deportment,  '  I  don't  know  whether  I  make  you 
understand  these  things,  but  I  understand  them 
well.'  He  rambles  sadly,  and  strays  so  completely 
from  his  text,  that  you  often  lose  sight  of  it.  The 
divisions  of  his  subject  are  so  numerous,  that  one 
of  his  sermons  might  be  divided  into  three.  Preach- 
ing is  with  him  talking;  his  discourses,  story- 
telling. Action  he  has  none,  except  that  of  shift- 
ing his  handkerchief  from  hand  to  hand,  and 
hugging  his  cushion.  Nature  has  bestowed  on  him 
a  vigorous,  original  mind,  and  he  employs  it  in 
everything.  Survey  him  when  you  will,  he  seems 
to  have  rubbed  off  none  of  his  native  rudeness  or 


blackness.  All  his  notions  are  his  own,  as  well  as 
his  mode  of  imparting  them.  Religion  has  not 
been  discovered  by  him  through  the  telescopes  of 
commentators." 

"  Huntington's  portrait,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "  is  in 
the  National  Portrait  Gallery,  in  Great  George  Street, 
Westminster.  He  'might  pass,  as  far  as  appearances 
go,  for  a  convict,  but  that  he  looks  too  conceited. 
The  vitality  and  strength  of  his  constitution  are  fear- 
ful to  behold,  and  it  is  certain  tha;t  he  looks  better 
fitted  for  coal-heaving  than  for  religious  oratory.' " 

Penton  Place,  leading  to  what  was  once  called 
Bagnigge  Wash,  used  to  be  frequently  overflowed, 
when  the  Fleet  Sewer  was  swollen  by  heavy  rains, 
or  rapid  thaws.  The  street  was  made  about  the 
year  1776.  In  1794  Grimaldi  lived  here,  and  took 
in  brother  actors  as  lodgers.  He  removed  to  Pen- 
ton  Street  in  1797.  This  wonderful  clown  was  the 
son  of  a  celebrated  Genoese  clown  and  dancer, 
who  came  to  England  in  1760,  in  the  capacity  of 
dentist  to  Queen  Charlotte.  He  played  at  Drury 
Lane,  under  Garrick's  management,  and  was 
generally  known  on  the  boards,  from  his  great 
strength,  as  "Iron  Legs."  At  one  performance 
the  agile  comic  dancer  is  said  to  have  jumped  so 
high  that  he  actually  broke  a  chandelier  which 
hung  over  the  side  stage-door,  and  kicked  one  of 
the  glass  drops  into  the  face  of  the  Turkish  am- 
bassador, who  was  gravely  sitting  in  a  stage-box. 
Joe  was  born  in  1778,  in  Stanhope  Street,  Clare 
Market,'  and  his  first  appearance  was  at  Sadler's 
Wells,  in  1781,  before  he  was  three  years  old. 
Grimaldi's  amusements,  in  his  leisure  time,  were 
innocent  enough ;  he  was  devoted  to  the  breeding 
of  pigeons  and  collecting  of  insects,  which  latter 
amusement  he  pursued  with  such  success,  as  to 
form  a  cabinet  containing  no  fewer  than  4,000 
specimens  of  butterflies,  "  collected,"  he  says,  "  at 
the  expense  of  a  great  deal  of  time,  a  great  deal  of 
money,  and  a  great  deal  of  vast  and  actual  labour ;" 
for  all  of  which,  no  doubt,  the  entomologist  will 
deem  him  sufficiently  rewarded.  He  appears,  in 
old  age,  to  have  entertained  a  peculiar  relish  for 
these  pursuits,  and  would  call  to  mind  a  part  of 
Surrey  where  there  was  a  very  famous  sort,  and  a 
part  of  Kent  where  there  was  another  famous  species. 
One  of  these  was  called  the  "  Camberwell  Beauty" 
(which,  he  adds,  was  very  ugly) ;  and  another,  the 
"  Dartford  Blue,"  by  which  Dartford  Blue  he  seems 
to  have  set  great  store. 

At  the  dreadful  accident  at  Sadler's  Wells,   in 
1807,  during  the  run  oi  Mother  Goose,  when  twenty- 
three  people  were  trodden  to  death,  during  a  false 
alarm  of  fire,  Grimaldi  met  with  a  singular   ad-  ' 
venture.     On   running  back  to   the  theatre  that 


286 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Pentonville. 


night  he  found  the  crowd  of  people  collected 
round  it  so  dense,  as  to  render  approach  by  the 
usual  path  impossible.  "  Filled  with  anxiety,"  says 
his  "  Memoirs,"  "  and  determined  to  ascertain  the 
real  state  of  the  case,  he  ran  round  to  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  New  River,  plunged  in,  swam  across, 
and,  finding  the  parlour  window  open  and  a  light 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  threw  up  the  sash 
and  jumped  in,  A  la  Harlequin.  What  was  his 
horror,  on  looking  round,  to  discover  that  there  lay 
stretched  in  the  apartment  no  fewer  than  nine  dead 
bodies  !  Yes ;  there  lay  the  remains  of  nine  human 
beings,  lifeless,  and  scarcely  yet  cold,  whom  a  few 
hours  back  he  had  been  himself  exciting  to  shouts 
of  laughter." 

Grimaldi  died  in  1837.  For  many  years  he  had 
been  a  nightly  frequenter  of  the  coffee-room  of  the 
"  Marquis  of  Cornwallis"  Tavern,  in  Southampton 
.Street,  Pentonville.  Mr.  George  Cook,  the  pro- 
prietor, used  to  carry  poor  half-paralysed  Joe  out 
and  home  on  his  back. 

King's  Row,  on  the  north  side  of  Pentonville 
Road,  was  erected,  says  Mr.  Pinks,  prior  to  1774. 
It  formerly  bore  the  odd  name  of  "  Happy  Man's 
Row,"  from  a  public-house  which  bore  the  sign  of 
the  "  Happy  Man." 

In  Pentonville  Road  resided  Mr.  James  Pascall, 
a  much-respected  public-spirited  man,  who  laboured 
forty  years  for  the  interests  of  Clerkenwell  parish, 
and  helped  to  detect  a  fraudulent  guardian  named 
Scott,  who  defrauded  the  parish,  in  1834,  of  more 
than  jQi6,ooo.  He  also  urged  forward  the  cover- 
ing up  the  noisome  Fleet  Ditch,  and  wrote  a  useful 
work  on  the  Clerkenwell  charity  estates. 

At  No.  16,  Winchester  Place,  now  No.  61,  Pen- 
tonville Road,  lived  for  fifteen  wretched  years  the 
celebrated  miser,  Thomas  Cooke.  This  miserable 
wretch  was  the  son  of  an  itinerant  fiddler  near 
Windsor.  Early  in  life  he  was  a  common  porter, 
but  by  a  stratagem  obtained  the  hand  of  the  rich 
widow  of  a  paper-maker  at  Tottenham,  and  then 
bought  a  sugar-baker's  business  at  Puddle  Dock. 
Here  his  miserable  life  as  a  miser  began.  He 
would  often  feign  fits  near  a  respectable  house,  to 
obtain  a  glass  of  wine.  His  ink  he  begged  at 
offices,  and  his  paper  he  stole  from  the  Bank 
counters.  It  is  said  that  he  collected  with  his  own 
hands  manure  for  his  garden.  His  horse  he  kept 
in  his  kitchen,  and  his  chaise  he  stored  up  in  his  bed- 
room. His  one  annual  treat  was  the  Epsom  Races. 
Turned  out  of  this  house  at  last,  Cooke  betook 
himself  to  No.  85,  White  Lion  Street,  Pentonville, 
and  died  in  18 11,  aged  eighty-six.  He  was  buried 
at  St  Mary's,  Islington,  the  mob  attending  throw- 
ing cabbage-stalks'  on  his  dishonoured  coffin.     He 


left  (and  here  was  his  pride)  £12"], "joe,  in  the 
Three  per  Cents,  chiefly  to  the  Shoreditch  and 
Tottenham  Almshouses ;  such  is  the  inconsistency 
of  human  nature.  In  an  old  portrait  Cooke  is 
represented  with  an  enormous  broad-brimmed  hat, 
a  shade  over  his  eyes,  knee  breeches,  buckle  shoes, 
an  immense  coat  with  a  cape,  while  a  stiff  curled 
wig  and  huge  cable  pigtail  completed  the  strange- 
looking  figure. 

St.  James's  Chapel,  Pentonville,  was  first  pro- 
jected by  Mr.-  Penton,  in  1777,  to  benefit  his 
estate ;  but  the  incumbent  of  St.  James's  refusing  to 
sign  a  bond  to  the  Bishop  of  London  for  the  regular 
payment  of  the  minister,  closed  the  matter  for  ten 
years.  In  1787,  however,  a  chapel  was  begun  by 
subscription,  and  was  opened  in  1788.  The  first 
minister  was  Mr.  Joel  Abraham  Knight,  from  the 
Spa  Fields  Chapel.  The  church  trustees  of  St. 
James's  purchased  the  chapel  in  1789  for  ;^S,ooo. 
Mr.  Hurst,  the  architect  of  the  chapel,  who  died  in 
1799,  lies  in  a  vault  beneath  the  building.  The 
chapel  and  cemetery  were  consecrated  for  the  use 
of  the  Chuirch  of  England  in  1791. 

"Mr.  Francis  Linley,  organist  of  Pentonville 
Chapel,"  says  Caulfield,  in  his  "Portraits,"  "was 
blind  from  his  birth.  His  greatest  amusement  was 
to  explore  churchyards,  and  with  his  fingers  trace 
out  memorials  of  the  dead  from  tombstones ;  in- 
deed, the  fineness  of  his  touch  would  lead  him  to 
know  a  book  from  the  lettering  on  the  back  of  a 
volume ;  and  he  could,  without  a  guide,  make  his 
way  throughout  the  bustling  streets  of  London." 

In  1789  Clerkenwell  pickpockets  had  grown  so 
daring,  that  one  day,  as  the  society  of  "Sols" 
were  going  into  this  chapel,  a  gentleman  looking 
on  had  his  pocket  picked,  and  was  knocked  down, 
and  the  person  who  informed  the  gentleman  he 
was  robbed  was  also  knocked  down  and  dragged 
about  the  road  by  his  hair,  no  one  interfering, 
although  hundreds  of  honest  persons  were  present. 

Pentonville  Chapel  is  built  chiefly  of  brick,  with 
a  stone  fagade.  The  building  stands  north  and 
south,  inkead  of  east  and  west.  The  altar-piece, 
"  The  Raising  of  Jairus's  Daughter,"  in  West's  feeble 
manner,  was  painted  by  Mr.  John  Frearson,  an 
amateur  artist.  At  the  death  of  a  Mr.  Faulkner, 
in  1856,  the  Bishop  of  London  ordered  the  church- 
wardens of  Clerkenwell  to  sequestrate  at  once  all 
the  "fruits,  tithes,  profits,  oblations,  and  obven- 
tions,"  for  the  benefit  of  the  next  incumbent,  but 
the  Rev.  Dr.  A.  L.  Courteney,  the  curate,  claimed 
the  profit,  as  having  by  the  incumbent's  death 
become  perpetual  curate  of  the  district  chapelry 
erected  in  1854.  The  case,  however,  never  came 
on  for  trial,   as   the  trustees   dreaded  litigation. 


Pentonville.] 


A  TERRIBLE  TRAGEDY. 


287 


In  1863  Dr./  Courteney  opened  his  new  church 
at  the  comer  of  John  Street.  The  incumbent  of 
St.  James's,  Clerkenwell,  presents  to  the  Uving  of 
St  James's,  Pentonville. 

Prospect  House,  in  Winchester  Place,  now  Pen- 
tonville Road,  was  one  of  those  old  houses  of  half 
rural  entertainment  once  common  in  this  part 
of  London.  It  derived  its  attractive  name  from 
the  fine  view  it  commanded  northward — a  great 
point  with  the  Cockney  holiday-maker.  From 
Islington  Hill,  as  the  vicinity  was  called,  there 
really  was  a^e  coup  d'csil  of  busy,  moody  London ; 
and  Canaletto  sketched  London  from  here,  when 
he  visited  England.  Prospect  House  is  men- 
tioned as  early  as  1669,  and  is  noted  in  Morden 
and  Lee's  Survey  and  Map  of  1700.  The  tavern 
was  famous,  like  many  other  suburban  taverns,  for 
its  bowling-greens.  Subsequently  it  was  re-cliris- 
tened  from  its  proprietor,  and  was  generally  known 
as  "Dobney's,"  or  D'Aubigne/s.  In  1760  Mr. 
Johnson,  a  new  landlord,  turned  the  old  bowling- 
green  into  a  circus,  and  engaged  one  Price,  from  the 
"  Three  Hats,"  a  rival  house  near,  to  exhibit  feats 
of,  horsemanship,  as  he  had  done  before  the  Royal 
Eamily.  Price,  the  desultory  man,  eventually  cleared 
;^i4,ooo  by  his  breakneck  tricks.  The  time  of  per- 
formance was  six  p.m.  In  1 7  6  6,  newspapers  record, 
a  'bricklayer  beat  his  wife  to  death,  in  a  field  nea,r 
Dobney's,  in  presence  of  several  frightened  people. 
In  1770  Prospect  House  was  taken  for  a  school, 
but  soon  re-opened  as  the  "  Jubilee  Tea  Gardens." 
The  interior  of  the  bowers  were  painted  with  scenes 
from  Shakespeare.  It  was  the  year  of  the  Jubilee, 
remember.  In  1772  an  extraordinary  man,  a  bee- 
tamer,  named  Wildman  (perhaps  from  America),  ex- 
hibited here.  His  advertisement  ran — "  Exhibition 
of  Bees  on  Horseback. — ^June  20th,  1772.  At  the 
Jubilee  Gardens,  late  Dobney's,  this  evening,  and 
every  evening  until  further  notice  (Wet  evenings  ex- 
cepted), the  celebrated  Mr.  Daniel  Wildman  will 
exhibit  several  new  and  amazing  experiments,  never 
attempted  by  any  man  in  this  or  any  other  kingdom 
before.  He  rides  standing  upright,  one  foot  on  the 
'  saddle  and  the  other  on  the  horse's  neck,  with  a 
curious  mask  of  bees  on  his  head  and  face.  He 
also  rides  standing  upright  on  the  saddle,  with  the 
bridle  in  his  mouth,  and,  by  firing  a  pistol,  makes 
one  part  of  the  bees  march  over  a  table,  and  the 
other  part  swarm  in  the  air,  and  return  to  their 
proper  hive  again.  With  other  performances.  The 
doors  open  at  six,  begins  at  a  quarter  before  seven. 
Admittance  in  the  boxes  and  gallery,  two  shillings ; 
other  seats,  one  shilling."  '  This  Wildman  seems  to 
have  sold  swarms  of  bees. 
In  1774  the  gardens  were  fast  getting  into  the 


"  sere  and  yellow  leaf"  that  awaits,  sooner  or  later, 
all  such  fools'  paradises.  A  verse-writer  in  the 
London  Evening  Post,  1776,  says — 

"  On  Sabbath  day  who  has  not  seen, 

In  colours  of  the  rainbow  dizened. 
The  'prentice  beaux  and  belles,  I  ween, 

Fatigued  with  heat,  with  dust  half  poisoned, 
To  Dobney's  strolling,  or  Pantheon, 

Their  tea  to  sip,  or  else  regale, 
As  on  the  way  they  shall  agree  on, 

With  syllabubs  or  bottled  ale?" 

In  1780  the  worn-out  house  became  a  lecture 
and  discussion  room;  but  about  1790  the  ground 
was  cleared,  and  Winchester  Place  built. ,  The 
gardens,  however,  struggled  on  till  18 10,  when 
they  disappeared,  leaving  as  a  slight  memorial  a 
mean  court  in  Penton  Street  known  as  Dobney's 
Court.  Until  the  building  of  Pentonville,  says 
Mr.  Pinks,  the  only  carriage-way  leading  to  Dob- 
ney's was  one  leading  from  High  Street,  Islington, 
under  the  gateway  of  the  "  White  Lion,"  and  from 
thence  to  the  bowling-green. 

The  London  Female  Penitentiary,  at  No.  166, 
Pentonville  Road,  was  formerly  a  nunnery  school. 
This  excellent  charity,  intended  to  save  those  whom 
vanity,  idleness,  and  the  treachery  of  man  have  led 
astray — poor  creatures,  against  whom  even  woman 
hardens  her  heart — started  here  in  1807.  The  house 
was  fitted  for  about  thirty-five  inmates,  but  was  in  a 
fewyears  enlarged,  so  as  to  hold  one  hundred  women. 
The  path  of  penitence  is  up-hill  everywhere,  but 
especially  in  London.  The  inmates  are  trained  for 
service,  and  their  earnings  at  needlework  and  wash- 
ing go  far  to  maintain  the  institution.  If  the  peace- 
makers were  expressly  blessed  by  our  Saviour,  how 
much  more  blessed  must  be  those  who  step  forward 
to  rescue  poor  women  like  these  who  are  willing 
to  repent,  but  who  are  by  poverty  drifted  irre- 
sistibly down  the  black  river  to  the  inevitable  grave. 
The  report,  a  few  years  ago,  showed  good  results. 
There  were  171  then  in  the  house,  thirty-one 
had  been  placed  out  in  service,  and  eight  recon- 
ciled to  their  friends.  From  1807  to  1863  there 
were  1,401  poor  women  sent  to  service,  941  recon- 
ciled and  restored  to  their  friends,  thuteen  married,, 
and  forty-eight  who  have  emigrated.  Altogether 
in  that  time  charity  and  kindness  had  been  held' 
out  to  4,172  of  the  most  miserable  outcasts  of  the 
metropolis. 

In  1834  a  terrible  and  wholesale  tragedy  was 
enacted  at  No.  17,  Southampton  Street,  by  a 
German  whip-maker  named  Steinberg.  On  a  Sep- 
tember night  this  wretch,  from  no  known  reason, 
but  perhaps  jealousy,  murdered  his  mistress  and 
her  four  children,  the  youngest  a  baby,  and  then 
cut  his  own  throat.     It  was  with  difficulty  the  mob- 


288 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


rpentonvill.-, 


Sadler's  Wells.5 


ISLINGTON   SPA. 


289 


was  prevented  from  dragging  the  murderer's  body 
through  the  streets.  His  victims  were  buried  in  St. 
James's  Churchyard,  and  he  himself  in  the  paupers' 
burial-ground  in  Ray  Street,  the  corpse  being 
shaken  out  of  the  shell  into  a  pit.  No  stake  was 
driven  through  the  body,  as  usual  formerly  with 
suicides,  but  one  of  the  grave-diggers  broke  in  the 
skull  with  an  iron  mallet    There  was  afterwards  a 


shameful  exhibition  opened  at  Steinberg's  house,  a 
sham  bloody  knife  being  shown,  and  wax  figures  of 
the  woman  and  her  children  placed  in  the  various 
rooms,  in  the  postures  in  which  they  had  been 
found.  The  victims'  clothes  were  bought  for  ^£25, 
and  nearly  ;^5o  was  taken  for  admission  in  one 
day.  And  yet  this  was  not  in  the  Ashantee  country, 
but  in  civilised  England,  only  a  few  years  ago. 


•i^'Vii' 


Sadler's  wells.    {From  a  View  taken  in  1756.) 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
SADLER'S    WELLS. 

Biscovery  of  a  Holy  Well — Fashion  patronises  it — ^The  Early  Days  of  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre — A  Fatal  Panic — Sadler's  Wells  Visitors — A  Grub 
Street  Eulogy — Eighteenth  Century  Acrobats — ^Joe  Grimaldi's  Father — Dogs  that  Deserved  a  Good  Name— Theatrical  Celebrities  at  Sadler's 
Wells— Belzoni,  the  Patagonian  Samson — "Hot  Codlins" — Advent  of  T.  P.  Cooke — Samuel  Phelps  becomes  Lessee  of  Sadler's  Wells — The 
Original  House  of  Correcdon— The  "  Sir  Hugh  Myddelton"  Tavern— A  Sadler's  Wells  Theatrical  Company— Spencer's  Breakfasting  House 
—George  Alexander  Stevens'  Lectures  on  Heads. 


While  on  the  subject  of  places  of  amusement  in 
the  north  of  London,  near  Islington,  we  must  not 
forget  Sadler's  Wells  (Islington  Spa),  or  New  Tun- 
bridge  Wells,  as  it  used  to  be  called.  The  chalybeate 
spring  was  discovered  in  1683  by  a  Mr.  Sadler,  a 
surveyor  of  the  highways,  in  a  pleasant,  retired, 
and  well-wooded  garden  of  a  music-house  he  had 
just  opened.  The  discovery  was  tirumpeted  in 
a  pamphlet,  detailing  the  virtues  of  the  water.  It 
was,  the  writer  asserted,  a  holy  well,  famed,  before 


the  Reformation,  for  its  healing  power,  which  the 
priests  attributed  to  their  prayers.  It  had  been,  in 
consequence,  looked  on  as  a  place  venerated  by 
superstition,  but  arched  over  at  the  Reformation, 
it  had  been  since  forgotten. 

The  Wells  soon  became  famous  with  hypochon- 
driacs. Burlesque  poems  (one  probably  by  Ned 
Ward*)  were  written  on  the  humours  of  the  place, 

*  "  Islington  Wells ;  or,  The  Threepenny  Academy,  1654." 


ago 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Sadler's  Wells. 


as  well  as  treatises  on  the  cure  of  invalids  by  drink- 
ing the  water  ;  and  finally,  in  1776,  George  Colman 
produced  a  farce,  called  TAe  Spleen;  or,  Islington 
Spa. 

In  the  summer  of  1700  Sadler's  Wells  became 
in  high  favour  with  the  public.  Gout  hobbled  there ; 
Rheumatism  groaned  over  his  ferruginous  water; 
severe  coughs  went  arm-in-arm,  chuckling  as  they 
hobbled ;  as  for  Hypochondria,  he  cracked  jokes, 
he  was  in  such  high  spirits  at  the  thought  of  the 
new  remedy.  At  this  time  dancers  were  admitted 
during  the  whole  of  the  day  on  Mondays  and 
Tuesdays,  says  Malcolm,  provided  they  did  not 
come  in  masks. 

In  1733  the  Wells  were  so  fashionable  that  the 
Princesses  Amelia  and  Caroline  frequented  the 
gardens  in  the  June  of  that  year  daily,  and  drank 
the  -waters,  the  nobility  coming  in  such  numbers 
^at  the  proprietor  took  above  £,2p  a  morning. 
Feathers  flaunted,  silks  rustled,  fans  fluttered,  and 
lovers  sighed,  partly  with  nausea  and  partly  with 
love,  as  they  sipped  the  bitter  waters  of  .^scu- 
lapius.  On  the  birthday  of  one  of  the  princesses, 
the  ladies  were  saluted  as  they  passed  through  Spa 
Fields  (then  full  of  carriages)  by  a  discharge  of 
twenty-one  guns — a  compliment  always  paid  to 
them  on  their  arrival— and  in  the  evening  there 
was  a  great  bonfire,  and  more  powder  was  burnt 
in  their  honour.  On  ceasing  to  visit  the  gardens, 
the  Princess  Ameha  presented  the,  master  with 
twenty-five  guineas,  each  of  the  water-servers  with 
three  guineas,  and  the  other  attendants  with  one 
guinea  each. 

From  1683  till  after  1811  these  gardens  were 
famous.  Nervous,  hypochondriac,  hysteric  affec- 
tions, asthmas,  indigestions,  swellings,  and  eruptions, 
all  took  their  doleful  pleasure  in  them,  and  drank 
the  waters  with  infinite  belief.  In  181 1  the  Wells 
were  still  frequented.  The  subscription  for  the  water 
was  a  guinea  the  season;  to  non-subscribers,  and 
with  capillaire,  it  cost  sixpence  a  glass.  The  spring 
was  then  enclosed  by  an  artificial  grotto  of  flints  and 
shells,  which  was  entered  by  a  rustic  gate ;  there  was 
a  lodging-house,  to  board  invalids,  and  in  the  garden 
a  breakfast-room,  about  forty  feet  long,  with  a  small 
orchestra.  In  the  room  was  hung  up  a  compara- 
tive analysis  of  the  water,  and  there  were  testi- 
monials of  its  efficacy  from  gentlemen  who  had 
been  ill  for  quarters  of  centuries,  and  had  drunk 
all  other  mineral  waters  in  vain. 

On  the  bark  of  one  of  the  trees  (before  181 1) 
were  cut  the  two  following  lines  :  * — 

"  Obstructum  recreat ;  durum  terit ;  humidum  siccat ; 
Debile  fortificat — si  tamen  arte  bibas."  ' 

*  Nelson's  "Islington,"  ist  edit,,  p.  ZI2. 


The  following  lines  were  written  in  a  room  of  the 
lodging-house,  just  as  a  votive  tablet  might  have 
been  hung  up  on  the  walls  of  a  Greek  temple : — 

"  For  three  times  ten  years  I  travell'd  the  globe, 
Consulted  whole  tribes  of  the  physical  robe  ; 
Drank  the  waters  of  Tunbridge,  Bath,  Harrogate,  Dulwich, 
Spa,  Epsom  (and  all  by  advice  of  the  College)  ; 
But  in  vain,  till  to  Islington  waters  I  came, 
To  try  if  my  cure  would  add  to  their  fame. 
In  less  than  six  weeks  they  produc'd  a  belief 
This  would  be  the  place  of  my  long-sought  relief; 
Before  six  weeks  more  had  finished  their  course, 
Full  of  spirits  and  strength,  I  mounted  my  horse, 
Gave  praise  to  my  God,  and  rade  cheerfully  home, 
Overjoy'd  with  the  thoughts  of  sweet  hours  ito  come. 
May  Thou,  great  Jehovah  give  equal  success 
To  all  who  resort  to  this  place  for  redress  !" 

Amusements  resembling  those  of  Vauxhall — music, 
fireworks,  &c.q-were  resorted  to  at  New  Tunbridge 
Wells,  in  1809-1810,  but  without  much  success. 

On  the  death  of  Sadler,  his  music-house  passed 
to  Francis  Forcer,  whose  son  exhibited  rope-dancing 
and  tumbling  till  1730,  when  he  died,  ' 

The  place  was  then  taken  by  Mr.  Rosoman,  a 
builder,  and  the  wooden  house  was,  about  the  year 
1765,  replaced  by  a  brick  building.  A  painting, 
introducing  Rosoman  and  some  of  his  actors,  was 
in  181 1,  to  be  seen  in  the  bar  of  the  "Sir  Hugh 
Myddelton,"  the  inn  introduced  by  Hogarth  in  his 
print  of  "Evening,"  pubKshed  in  1738.  There 
was  a  club,  at  this  time,  at  the  "Sir  Hugh  Myd- 
delton," of  actors,  who,  in  1753,  formed  a  regular 
company,  at  what  had  now  become  a  theatre.  The 
amusements  here  were  originally  in  the  open  air, 
the  tickets  to  spectators  including  refreshments. 
The  Connoisseur,  of  1756,  notes  the  feats  of  activity 
exhibited  here.  After  that  time  this  suburban 
theatre  became  famous  for  burlettas,  musical  inter- 
ludes, and  pantomimes.  Here  Grimaldi  cracked 
his  drollest  jokes,  and  here  the  celebrated  Richer 
exhibited  on  the  tight  rope.  The  New  River  was 
also  taken  advantage  of,  and  introduced  into  a  tank 
the  size  of  the  stage,  to  represent  more  effectively 
naval  victories  and  French  defeats.  After  Roso- 
man, Mr.  Thomas  King,  the  comedian,  and  Mr. 
Wroughton,  of  Drury  Lane,  became  proprietors; 
and  at  one  time  Mr.  Charles  Dibdin,  jun.,  was 
stage-manager. 

A  most  fatal  panic  took  place  at  this  theatre  on 
the  1 5th  of  October,  1807.  The  cry,  "A  fight!"  was 
mistaken  for  "  A  fire  !"  and  a  rush  took  place  from 
the  gallery.  The  manager,  shouting  to  the  people ' 
through  speaking-trumpets,  entreated  them  to  keep 
their  seats;  but  in  vain,  for  many  threw  them- 
selves down  into  the  pit,  and  eighteen  were  crushed 
to  death  on  the  gallery  stairs.    The  proceed-  of  wo 


SacHei's  Wells.] 


SADLER'S  WELLS  THEATRE. 


291 


benefits  were  divided  among  the  children  and 
widows  of  the  sufferers. 

Sadler's  Musical  House,  which,  tradition  affirms, 
was  a  place  of  public  entertainment  even  as  early 
as  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  seems  early  to  have 
affected  a  theatrical  air.  In  May,  1698,  we  find  a 
vocal  and  instrumental  concert  advertised  here, 
the  instrumental  part  being  "  composed  of  violins, 
hautboys,  trumpets,  and  kettle-drums."  It  was  to 
continue  from  ten  to  one,  every  Monday  and  Thurs- 
day, during  the  drinking  of  the  waters.  -In  1699 
the  Wells  were  called  "  Miles's  Music  'House ;" 
and  in  that  year  Ned  Ward,  always  coarse  and 
always  lively,  describes  going  with  a  crowd  of  Inns 
of  Court  beaux  to  see  a  wretch,  disguised  in  a  fool's 
cap,  and  with  a  smutty  face  like  a  hangman,  eat 
a  live  fowl,  feathers  and  all. 

"  The  state  of  things  described  by  Ned  Wai-d," 
says  Mr.  Pinks,  "  is  abundantly  confirmed  by  the 
reminiscences  of  Edward  Macklin,  the  actor,  who 
remembered  the  time  when  the  admission  here  was 
but  threepence,  except  to  a  few  places  scuttled  off 
at  the  sides  of  the  stage  at  sixpence,  which  were  re- 
served for  people  of  fashion,  who  occasionally  came 
to  see  the  fun.  '  Here  we  smoked  and  drank  porter 
and  rum-and-water,  as  much  as  we  could  pay  for.' 
Of  the  audience  Macklin  says,  '  Though  we  had  a 
mixture  of  very  odd  company,  there  was  little  or 
no  rioting ;  there  was  a  public  then  that  kept  one 
another  in  awe.'" 

Ned  Ward,  who  was  a  quick  observer,  describes 
the  dress-circle  gallery  here  as  painted  with  stories 
of  Apollo  and  Daphne,  Jupiter  and  Europa,  &c. 
In  his  poem,  "  A  Walk  to  Islington,"  Ned  Ward  is 
not  complimentary  to  the  Sadler's  Wells  visitors. 
In  the  pit,  he  says,  were  butchers,  bailiffs,  house- 
breakers, footpads,  prizefighters,  thief-takers,  deer- 
stealers,  and  buUies,  who  drank,  and  smoked,  and 
lied,  and  swore.  They  ate  cheesecakes  and  drank 
ale,  and  one  of  the  buffoons  was  also  a  waiter.  The 
female  vocalist  was  followed  by  a  fiddler  in  scarlet. 
Then  came  a  child,  who  danced  a  sword-dance,  and 
after  her 

"  A  young  babe  of  grace. 
With  mercury  in  his  heels,  and  a  gallows  in  his  face ; 
In  dancing  a  jig  lies  the  chief  of  whose  graces, 
And  making  strange  music-house,  monkey-like  faces." 

About  1711  the  Wells  seems  to  have  become 
still  more  disreputable,  and  in  171 2  a  lieutenant  of 
the  navy  was  run  through  the  body  there  by  a 
Mr.  French,  of  the  Temple,  in  a  drunken  quarrel. 

Macklin  says  there  were  four  or  five  exhibitions 
in  a  day,  and  that  the  duration  of  each  perform- 
ance depended  upon  circumstances.  The  pro- 
prietors had  always  a  fellow  outside  to  calculate 


how  many  persons  were  collected  for  a  second 
exhibition,  and  when  he  thought  there  were  enough, 
he  came  to  the  back  of  the  upper  seats  and  cried 
out,  "  Is  Hiram  Fisteman  here  ?"  This  was  a  cant 
word  between  the  parties,  to  know  the  state  of  the 
people  without,  upon  which  they  concluded  the 
entertainment,  and  dismissed  the  audience  with  a 
song,  and  prepared  for  a  second  representation. 

In  a  poem  called  "The  New  River,"  written 
about  1725,  by  William  Garbott,  the  author  thus 
describes  the  Wells,  with  advertising  enthusiasm : — •■ 

"  There  you  may  sit  under  the  shady  trees. 
And  drink  and  smoak  fann'd  by  a  gentle  breeze  j 
Behold  the  fish,  how  wantonly  they  play, 
And  catch  them  also,  if  you  please,  you  may. " 

Forcer,  a  barrister,  the  proprietor  in  the  early 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  improved  the  panto- 
mimes, rope-dancing,  and  ladder-dancing,  tumbling, 
and  musical  interludes.  Acrobats  threw  summer- 
saults from  the  upper  gallery,  and  Black  Scara- 
mouch struggled  with  Harlequin  on  the  stage.  The 
old  well  was  accidentally  discovered  in  Macklin's 
time,  between  the  New  River  and  the  stage-door. 
It  was  encircled  with  stone,  and  you  descended  to 
it  by  several  steps.  Cromwell,  writing  in  1828, 
says  that  it  was  known  that  springs  existed  under 
the  orchestra,  and  under  the  stage,  and  that  the 
old  fountain  of  health  might  hopefully  be  sought 
for  there.  In  1738,  in  his  "Evening,"  not  one  of 
his  most  successful  works,  Hogarth  introduced  a 
bourgeois  holiday-maker  and  his  wife,  with  Sadler's 
Wells  in  the  background.  In  "  The  Gentlemen's 
and  Ladies'  Social  Companion,"  a  book  of  songs 
published  in  1745-6,  we  find  a  song  oji  Sadler's 
Wells,  which  contained  several  characteristic  verses. 
Rope-dancing  and  harlequinade,  with  scenery,  feats 
of  strength,  and  singing,  seem  to  have  been  the 
usual  entertainment  about  this  period.  In  1744 
the  place  was  presented  by  the  grand  jury  of  the 
county  as  a  scene  of  great  extravagance,  luxurious 
idleness,  and  ill-fame,  but  it  led  to  no  good 
results.  In  1746  any  person  was  admitted  to 
the  Wells,  "  and  the  diversions  of  the  place,"  on 
taking  a  ticket  for  a  pint  of  wine.  This  same  year 
a  ballet  on  the  Battle  of  CuUoden,  a  most  undance- 
able  subject,  one  would  think,  was  very  popular; 
and  Hogarth's  terrible  "Harlot's  Progress"  was 
turned  into  a  drama,  with  songs,  by  Lampe. 

The  Grub  Street  poets,  in  the  meantime,  be- 
lauded the  Wells,  not  without  reward,  and  not 
always  inelegantly,  as  the  following  verses  show : — 

"  Ye  cheerful  souls,  who  would  regale 
On  honest  home-brewed  British  ale, 
To  Sadler's  Wells  in  troops  repair, 
An4'fin4  fte  wiglied-fg^  cordial  there; 


292 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Sadler's  WelK 


Strength,  colour,  elegance  of  taste. 

Combine  to  bless  the  rich  repast ; 

And  I  assure  ye,  to  my  knowledge, 

'T  has  been  approved  by  all  the  CoUedge, 

More  efficacious  and  prevailjiig 

Than  all  the  recipes  of  Galetl: 

Words  scarce  are  able  to  disclose 

The  various  blessings  it  bestows. 

It  helps  the  younger  sort  to  think, 

And  wit  flows  faster  as  they  drink ; 

It  puts  the  ancient  a  new  fleece  on. 

Just  as  Medea  did  to  Eson  j 

The  fair  with  bloom  it  does  adorn. 

Fragrant  and  fi-esh  as  April  morn. 

Haste  hither,  then,  and  take  your  fill, 

Let  parsons  say  whatever  they  will ; 

The  ale  that  every  ale  excels 

Is  only  fomid  at  Sadler's  Wells. " 

A  writer  in  the  Connoisseur  of  1756  praises  a 
dexterous  performer  at  the  Wells,  who,  with  bells 
on  his  feet,  head,  and  hands,  jangled  out  a  variety 
of  tunes,  by  dint  of  various  nods  and  jerks.  The 
same  year  a  wonderful  balancer  named  Maddox 
performed  on  the  slack  wire,  tossing  balls,  and 
kicking  straws  into  a  wine-glass  which  he  held  in 
his  mouth.  Maddox,  the  equilibrist,  entertained 
the  public  for  several  seasons  by  his  "  balances  on 
the  wire,"  and  his  fame  was  celebrated  by  a  song 
set  to  music,  entitled  "  Balance  a  Straw,"  which  for 
a  time  was  very  popular.  A  simUar  feat  was  after- 
wards performed  at  the  Wells  by  a  Dutchman,  with 
a  peacoc^k's  feather,  which  he  blew  into  the  air  and 
caught  as  it  fell,  on  different^  parts  of  a  wire,  at  the 
same  time  preserving  his  due  equilibrium.  The 
same  performer  used  to  balance  a  wheel  upon  his 
shoulder,  his  forehead,  and  his  chin,  and  afterwards, 
to  show  his  skill  as  an  equilibrist,  he  poised  two 
wheels,  with  a  boy  standing  on  one  of  them. 

The  road  home  from  the  Wells  seems  to  have 
been  peculiarly  dangerous  about  1757,  as  the 
manager  announces  in  the  Public  Advertiser  that 
on  the  night  of  a  certain  charitable  performance 
a  horse-patrol  would  be  sent  by  Mr.  Fielding  (the 
blind  magistrate,  and  kinsman  of  the  novelist)  for 
the  protection  of  nobility  and  gentry  who  came 
from  the  squares.  The  road  to  the  City  was,  as 
he  promised,  also  to  be  properly  guarded.  A  year 
later  an  armed  patrol  was  advertised  as  stationed 
on  the  New  Road,  between  Sadler's  Wells  and 
Grosvenor  Square.  Foote  wrote,  about  the  same 
time : — 

"  If  at  Sadler's  Wells  the  wine  should  be  thick. 
The  cheesecakes  be  sour,  or  Miss  Wilkinson  sick ; 
If  the  fumes  of  the  pipes  should  prove  powerful  in  June, 
Or  the  tumblers  be  lame,  or  the  bells  out  of  tune. 
We  hope  that  you'll  call  at  our  warehouse  at  Drury, 
We've  a  good  assortment  of  goods,  I  assure  you." 

In  1^65  the  old  wooden  theatre  at  the  Wells  was 


pulled  down  and  a  new  one  built,  at  an  expense 
of  ;^4,22S.  A  three-shilling  ticket  for  the  boxes, 
in  1773,  entitled  the  bearer  to  a  pint  of  port, 
mountain,  Lisbon,  or  punch.  A  second  pint  cost 
one  shilling. 

In  1763  Signer  Grinialdj,  Joe  Grimaldi's  father, 
first  appeared  as  chief  dancer  and  ballet-master. 
He  continued  there  till  the  close  of  1767.  In 
1775  James  Byrne,  the  famous  harlequin  of  Druiy 
Lane,  and  the  father  of  Oscar  Byrne,  was  em- 
ployed at  Sadler's  Wells  as  a  dancer,  and  a  Signer 
Rossignol  gave  imitations  of  birds,  like  Herr  Joel, 
and  accompanied  the  orchestra  on  a  fiddle  without 
strings.  About  this  time,  too,  Charles  Dibdin  the 
elder  wrote  some  clever  and  fanciful  pieces  for  this 
theatre,  entitled  "  Intelligence  from  Sadler's  Wells." 

In  1772  Rosomon  surrendered  the  management 
to  King,  the  famous  comedian,  who  held  it  till 
1782,  when  Sheridan  gave  him  up  the  sovereignty 
of  Drury  Lane,  King  had  been  an  attorney,  but 
had  thrown  up  his  parchments  to  join  theatres  and 
play  under  Garrick.  He  excelled  in  Sir  Peter 
Teazle,  Lord  Ogkby,  Puff,  and  Dr.  Cantwell.  His 
Touchstone  and  Ranger,  says  Dr.  Doran,  were  only 
equalled  by  Garrick  and  EUiston.  He  was  arch, 
easy,  and  versatile,  and  the  last  time  he  played  Sir 
Peter,  in  1802,  the  fascinating  Mrs.  Jordan  was  the 
young  wife.  King  remained  an  inveterate  gambler 
to  the  last,  in  spite  of  Garrick's  urgent  entreaties. 
King  sold  the  Wells,  says  Mr.  Pinks,  for  ;^i  2,000. 
Joe  Grimaldi  appeared  at  Sadler's  Wells  first  in 
1 781,  in  the  character  of  a  monkey.  In  1783  egg- 
dancers  and  perforining  dogs  were  the  rage,  the 
dogs  alone  clearing  for  the  managers,  in  one  season, 
;^io,ooo.  The  saying  at  the  theatre  at  that  time 
was,  that  if  the  dogs  had  not  come  to  the  theatre 
the  theatre  must  have  gone  to  the  dogs.  Horse- 
patrols  still  paraded  the  roads  to  the  City  at  night. 

In  1786  Miss  Romanzini  (afterwards  the  cele- 
brated ballad  vocalist,  Mrs.  Bland)  appeared  at  the 
Wells,  and  also  Pietro  Bologna,  father  of  the  cele- 
brated clown,  Jack  Bologna,  In  1788  Braham, 
then  a  boy,  who  had  first  appeared  in  1787,  at  the 
Royalty  Theatre,  Wells  Street,  near  Goodman's 
Fields,  made  his  first  appearance  at  the  Wells. 
"  Two  Frenchmen,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "  named  Du-  ] 
ranie  and  Bois-Maison,  as  pantomimists,  eclipsed 
all  their  predecessors  on  that  stage.  Boyce,  a  dis- 
tinguished engraver,  was  the  harlequin,  and,  from 
all  accounts,  was  the  most  finished  actor  of  the 
motley  hero,  either  in  his  own  day  or  since.  On 
the  benefit-night  of  Joseph  Dortor,  clown  to  the 
rope,  and  Richer,  the  rope-dancer.  Miss  Richer 
made  her  first  appearance  on  two  slack  wires,  pass- 
ing through  a  hoop,  with  a  pyramid  of  glasses  0?) 


Saaler's  Wells.] 


GRiMALbi  AT  SADLER'S  WELLS. 


^i 


her  head,  and  Master  Richer  performed  on  the 
tight  rope,  with  a  skipping-rope.  Joseph  Dortor, 
among  other  almost  incredible  feats,  drank  a  glass 
of  wine  backwards  from  the  stage  floor,  beating  a 
drum  at  the  same  time.  Lawrence  threw  a  somer- 
sault over  twelve  men's  heads,  and  Paul  Redig^ 
the  '  Little  Devil,'  on  October  ist,  threw  a  somer- 
sault over  two  men  on  horseback,  the  riders  having 
each  a. lighted  candle  on  his  head.  Dubois,  as 
clown,  had  no  superior  in  his  time,  and  the  troop 
of  voltigeurs  were  pre-eminent  for  their  agility, 
skill,  and  daring." 

After  Wroughton's- time,  Mr.  Siddons  (husband 
of  the  great  actress)  became  one  of  the  proprietors 
of  the  Wells,  where,  in  1801,  a  young  tragedian. 
Master  Carey,  the  "Pupil  of  Nature,"  otherwise 
known  as  Edmund  Kean,  recited  RoUo's  speech 
from  Pizarro.  His  great-grandfather,  Henry  Carey, 
the  illegitimate  son  of  the  Marquis  of  Halifax,  and 
the  author  of  the  delightful  ballad,  "Sally  in  our 
Alley,"  had  written  and  composed  many  of  the 
ballad  operas  and  ballad  farces  which  were  very 
successful  at  Sadler's  Wells. 

In  1802,  Charles  Dibdin,  jun.,  and  Thomas 
Dibdin,  his  brother,  were  busy  at  the  Wells. 

In  1803  appeared  Signor  Belzbni,  afterwards 
the  great  Egyptian  traveller,  as  the  "  Patagoniaji 
Samson,"  in  which  character,  says  Mr.  PJinks,  "  he 
performed  prodigious  feats  of  strength,  one  of 
which  was  to  adjust  an  iron  frame  to  his  body, 
weighing  127  lbs.,  on  which  he  carried  eleven  per- 
sons. The  frame  had  steps  or  branches  projecting 
from  its  sides,  on  which  he  placed  eleven  men  in 
a  pyramidical  form,  the  uppermost  of  whom  reached 
to  the  border  of  the  proscenium.  With  this  immense 
weight  he  walked  round  the  stage,  to  the  astonish- 
ment and  delight  of  his  audience.  On  one  occa- 
sion a  serio-comic  accident  occurred,  which  might 
have  proved  fatal  not  only  to  the  mighty  Hercules, 
but  also  to  his  pyramidical  group.  As  he  was 
walking  round  the  stage  with  the  vast  load  attached 
to  his  body,  the  floor  gave  way,  and  plunged  him 
and  his  companions  into  tJie  water  beneath.  A 
group  of  assistants  soon  came  to  the  rescue,  and 
the  whole  party  marched  to  the  front  of  the  stage, 
made  their  bows,  and  retired.  On  Belzoni's  benefit- 
night  he  attempted  to  carry  thirteen  men,  but  as 
that  number  could  not  hold  on,  it  was  abandoned. 
His  stature,  as  registered  in  the  books  of  the  Alien 
Office,  was  six  feet  six  inches.  He  was  of  good 
figure,  gentlemanly  manners,  and  great  mind.  He 
was  an  Italian  by  birth,  but  early  in  life  he  quitted 
his  native  land  to  seek  his  fortune." 

In  1804  Sadler's  Wells  first  began  to  assume  the 
character  of  an  aquatic  theatre.    An  immense  tank 


was  constructed  under  the  stage,  and  a  communi- 
cation opened  with  the  New  River.  The  first 
aquatic  piece  was  a  Siege  of  Gibraltar,  in  which 
real  vessels  bombarded  the  fortress.  A  variety  of 
pieces  were  subsequently  produced,  concluding 
with  a  grand  scene  for  ths.  finale,  on  "real  water." 
Thomas  Greenwood,  a  scene-painter  at  the  Wells, 
thus  records  the  water  successes  in  his  "  Rhyming 
Reminiscences :" — 

"  Attraction  was  needed  the  town  to  engage, 
I  So  Dick  emptied  the  river  that  year  on  the  stage ; 
The  house  overflowed,  and  became  quite  the  ton. 
And  the  Wells  for  some  seasons  went  swimmingly  on." 

"Among  the  apparently  perilous  and  appalling 
incidents  exhibited,"  says  a  writer  to  whom  we 
have  already  been  much  indebted,  "  were  those  of 
a  female  falling  from  the  rocks  into  the  water,  and 
being  rescued  by  her  herb-lover;  a  naval  battle, 
with  sailors  escaping  by  plunging  into  the  sea  from 
a  vessel  on  fire ;  and  a  child  thrown  into  the  water 
by  a  nurse,  who  was  bribed  to  drown  it,  being 
rescued  by  a  Newfoundland  dog." 

In  1819  Grimaldi  sang  for  the  first  time  his  im- 
mortal song  of  "Hot  Codlins,"  the  very  night  a 
boy  was  crushed  to  death  in  the  rush  at  entering. 
"Sadler's  Wells  was  let  at  Easter,  1821,  for  the 
ensuing  three  seasons,  to  Mr.  Egerton,  of  Covent 
Garden  Theatre ;  in  which  year  it  was  honoured  by 
the  presence  of  Queen  Caroline,  the  wife  of  George 
IV.,  and  her  Majesty's  box  and  its  appointments 
were  exhibited  daily  to  the  public  for  a  week  after- 
wards. In  1822,  in  a  piece  callad  Tom  and  yerry, 
pony  races  were  introduced,  a  course  having  been 
formed  by  laying  a  platform  on  the  stage  and  pit. 
Upon  the  expiration  of  Egerton's  term  the  Wells 
were  let  to  Mr.  Williams,  of  the  Surrey  Theatre,  the 
son  of  the  proprietor  of  the  once-famous  boiled 
beef  house  in  the  Old  Bailey.  He  employed  one 
half  of  his  company,  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
evening,  at  Sadler's  Wells,  and  thence  transferred 
them  to  the  Surrey,  to  finish  there;  and  at  that 
theatre  he  adopted  the  same  course,  the  performers 
being  conveyed  between  the  two  houses  by  special 
carriages.  Williams's  speculation,  however,  turned 
out  a  complete  failure." 

In  1823  the  use  of  water  for  scenic  purposes 
was  discontinued  for  a  time  at  Sadler's  Wells,  and 
in  1825  the  old  manager's  house,  next  the  New 
River  Head,  was  turned  into  wine-rooms  and  a 
saloon ;  the  season,  in  consequence  of  the  immense 
growth  of  the  neighbourhood,  was  extended  from 
six  to  twelve  months,  and  Tom  Dibdin  was  en- 
gaged as  acting  manager.  The  year  1826  being 
very  hot,  the  manager  got  up  some  pony-races  in 
the  grounds,  which  drew  large  audiences.     On 


294 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Sadler's  Wells, 


March  17,  1828,  Grimaldi  took  his  farewell  benefit 
at  Sadler's  Wells. 

Subsequently  Mr.  T.  Dibdin  became  manager  at 
the  Wells,  and  produced  a  variety  of  ballets,  pan- 
tomimes, burlettas,  and  melodramas.  In  1832  that 
best  of  all  stage  sailors,  Mr.  T.  P.  Cooke,  made 
his  first  appearance  at  this  theatre  as  William, 
in  Black-Eyed  Susan,    a  ^piece    which    ran  one 


At  the  west  end  of  a  paved  avenue  on  the  south 
side  of  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  now  buried  New  River,  just  where  a  row  of 
lofty  poplars  once  fringed  the  left  bank,  stands  the 
"Sir  Hugh  Myddelton"  Tavern,  erected  in  1831, 
on  the  site  of  the  "  Myddelton's  Head,"  which  was 
built  as  early  as  16 14.  This  was  the  favourite 
house  for  the  actors  and  authors  of  the  Wells,  and 


THE  EXTERIOR  OF  BAGNIGGE  WELLS  IN    I780. 


hundred  nights.  In  1833,  during  a  serio-romantic 
lyric  drama  called  The  Island,  and  founded  on  the 
mutiny  of  the  Bounty,  the  stage  and  its  scenery 
was  drawn  up  bodily  to  the  roof  of  the  house,  to 
avoid  the  tediousness  of  a  "wait."  Ta^  Russian 
Mountains  were  also  a  great  success. 

But  a  great  epoch  was  now  about  to  commence. 
In  1844  Mr.  Samuel  Phelps  appeared,  aided  by 
Mrs.  Warner.  In  1846  Mr.  Phelps  resolved  to 
produce  all  Shakespeare's  plays,  and  actually  did 
represent  thirty  of  them.  These  thirty,  under  Mr. 
Phelps's  management,  occupied  about  4,000  nights, 
Hamlet  alone  running  for  400.  After  honourable 
toil  of  eighteen  years,  Mr.  Phelps,  a  true  enthusiast 
for  the  "'legitimate,"  retired  from  Sadler'^  Wells  in 
1862.     He  paid  a  rent  of  ;^i,ooo  a  year. 


here  sturdy  Macklin,  the  best  of  Shylocks,  Roso- 
man,  the  manager,  Dibdin,  and  Grimaldi  used  to 
fill  their  churchwarden's  pipes,  and  merrily  stir 
their  glasses.  In  Hogarth's  "  Evening,"  published 
in  1738,  we  have  a  glimpse  of  the  old  signboard, 
and  of  a  gable  end  and  primitive  weather-boarding, 
against  which  a  vine  spreads  itself,  and  displays  its 
clustering  fruit.  At  an  open  window  honest  citizens 
are  carousing,  while  the  fat  and  sour  City  dame, 
of  by  no  means  unimpeachable  virtue,  as  the  painter 
implies,  is  pettishly  fanning  herself,  attended  by 
her  obsequious  Jerry  Sneak  of  a  husband,  who 
toils  along,  carrying  the  ugly  baby.  Malcolm, 
in  1803,  describes  the  tavern  as  facing  the  river, 
which  was  "adorned  with  tall  poplars,  graceful 
willows,  and  sloping  banks  and  flowers."    In  the 


Sadler's  WeUs.] 


MANAGER  ROSOMAN  AND  HIS  COMPANY. 


295 


bar  of  the  "  Sir  Hugh  Myddelton"  is  a  curious  old 
picture  of  Manager  Rosoman,  surrounded  by  his 
select  friends  and  members  of  his  company ;  and 
of  this  picture  Mr.  Mark  Lonsdale,  a  once  manager 
of  the  theatre,  drew  up  the  following  account : — 

"The  portrait  of  Mr.  Rosoman,  the  then  manager 
of  Sadler's  Wells,  forms  the  centre.  Then  pro- 
ceeding to  the  gentleman  on  his  left  hand,  and  so 
round  the  table  as  they  sit.  The  seven  gentlemen 
who  are  standing  up  are  taken  the  last,  beginning 


in  Cow  Cross.  The  name  of  the  next  gentleman, 
who  is  pointing  his  finger  to  his  nose,  is  forgotten ; 
he  was  a  dancer  at  Sadler's  Wells,  and  went  by 
an  unpleasant  nickname,  from  the  circumstance  of 
his  nose  being  much  troubled  with  warts.  The 
gentleman  at  his  right  hand,  having  his  hand  upon 
the  neck  of  a  bottle,  is  Mr.  Smith,  a  well-known 
carcase  butcher  in  Cow  Cross.  The  next,  who 
has  his  fingers  upon  a  glass  of  wine,  is  Mr.'  Ripley, 
of  Red  Lion  Street.     Mr.  Cracraft,  a  barber  in  the 


COLDBATH  HOUSE.      (From  a  View  published  in  \^ll^ 


with  Mr.  Maddox,  the  wire-dancer,  and  so  on, 
with  the  remaining  six  in  the  order  they  stand. 
The  gentleman  with  one  hand  upon  the  pug-dog 
is  Mr.  Rosoman,  manager  of  Sadler's  Wells.  On 
his  left  hand  is  Mr.  Justice  Keeling,  a  brewer.  Mr. 
Romaine,  a  pipe-maker,  is  distinguished  by  his 
having .  a  handful  of  pipes,  and  is  in  the  act  of 
delivering  one  to  Mr.  Justice  Keeling.  Mr.  Cope- 
land,  the  tobacconist,  is  also  distinguished  by  his 
having  a  paper  of  tobacco  in  his  hand,  on  which 
is  written  '  Copeland's  best  Virginia.'  The  gentle- 
man with  his  hand  upon  the  greyhound  is  Mr. 
Angier,  a  carver  in  Long  Acre;  on  his  left  is 
Mr.  Cowland,  a  butcher  in  Fleet  Street.  At  Mr. 
Cowland's  right  hand  is  Mr.  Seabrook,  a  glazier 


same  street,  sits  at  his  right  hand,  and  is  filUng  his 
pipe  out  of  a  paper  of  tobacco.  At  his  right  hand 
is  Mr.  Holtham,  scene-painter  at  Sadler's  Wells. 
The  gentleman  who  sits  higher  than  the  rest  of 
the  company,  and  who  is  in  the  attitude  of  sing- 
ing, having  a  bottle  under  his  arm,  is  Mr.  Ranson, 
a  tailor  at  Sad.ler's  Wells,  known  by  the  name  of 
Tailor  Dick.  Mr.  Bass,  a  plasterer  in  Cow  Cross, 
sits  at  his  right  hand,  and  is  in  the  attitude  of 
putting  a  punch  ladle  into  the  bowl.  At  his  right 
hand  Mr.  Chalkill,  a  poulterer  in  Whitecross  Street. 
At  Mr.  Chalkill's  right  hand  is  Mr.  Norris,  a  sales- 
man in  the  sheep-skin  market.  When  he  died  he 
left  ;^2,ooo  in  hard  cash  in  his  chest.  At  his  right 
hand  is  Mr.  Davis,  a  walksman  at  the  New  River 


296 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[fiagnigge  Wells. 


Head.  The  name  of  the  gentleman  at  Mr.  Davis's 
right  hand  is  forgotten.  Mr.  George,  a  tallow- 
chandler  in  Islington,  sits  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
unknown  gentleman.  He  married' the  late  Alder- 
man Hart's  mother.  The  gentieman  next  to  him 
is  Mr.  Davenport,  ballet  master  at  Sadler's  Wells, 
and  was  master  to  Charles  Matthews.  Next  to  him  is 
Mr.  Greenwood,  painter,  father  of  the  scene-painter. 
The  gentleman  at  Mr.  Rosoman's  right  hand  is 
Mr.  Hough,  his  partner.  The  gentleman  in  a  blue 
and  gold  theatrical  dress,  with  one  hand  upon  Mr. 
Davis's  shoulder,  is  Mr.  Maddox,  the  wire-dancer, 
who  was  drowned.  The  one  standing  by  in  a 
cocked  hat  is  Mr.  Thomas  Banks,  a  carver  and 
arts'  master  in  Bridewall ;  also  harlequin  and  clown 
at  Sadler's  Wells.  Billy  Williams,  a  tumbler,  is 
standing  between  Tailor  Dick  and  Mr.  Bass.  Peter 
Garman,  a  rope-dancer  and  tumbler  at  Sadler's 
Wells,  is  between  Mr.  Holtman  and  Tailor  Dick, 
and  is  in  the  attitude  of  blowing  the  smoke  from 
his  pipe  into  Tailor  Dick's  face.  The  next  standing 
figure  is  Mr.  John  CoUier,  a  watch  finisher  in  Red 
Lion  Street. ,  A  cheesemonger  (name  forgot)  is  at 
the  left  hand.  Mr,  Talmash,  vestry  clerk  of  St 
James's,  Clerkenwell  (a  mighty  great  man  in  Red 
Lion  Street),  is  at  the  back  of  the  chair  of  the 
gentleman  before-mentioned  with  the  vulgar  nick- 
name." 

In  the  days  when  clover  grew  round  Islington, 
and  the  cows  of  that  region  waded  knee-deep  in 
golden  buttercups — when  the  skylark  could  be 
heard  in  Pentonville,  the  Cockney  pedestrian,  after 
his  early  summer  walk,  expected  to  fall  upon  a  good 
honest  breakfast  at  some  such  suburban  tavern 
as  the  "Sir   Hugh   Myddelton."      About    1745, 


Spencer's  Breakfasting  House,  a  mere  hut  with 
benches  outside,  at  the  end  of  Myddelton  Place, 
supplied  this  want — tea  at  threepence  per  head,  and 
coffee  at  three  halfpence  per.  dish,  fine  Hyson  tea  at 
sixpence  per  head,  "  a  cat  with  two  legs,  to  be  seen 
gratis."  On  Sunday  mornings  Spencer's  hut  was 
filled  with  'prentices  and  their  sweethearts.  The 
house  had  a  cow-lair  and  a  wooden  fence  tliat  almost 
surrounded  it.  Here,  in  July,  1765,  the  celebrated 
mimic  and  adventurer,  George  Alexander  Stevens, 
delivered  his  "Lectures  on  Heads,"  which  the 
celebrated  comedians  of  the  day  attempted  in  vain 
to  rival.  In  the  Public  Advertiser,  July  24th,  1765, 
is  the  following  advertisement : — 

"This  evening,  and  every  evening  during  the  summer 
season,  at  the  Long  Room  opposite  to  Sadler's  Wells,  will 
be  delivered  the  celebrated  'Lectures  on  Heads,'  by  Mr. 
Geo.  Alex.  Stevens. 

"  Part  I.  Introduction  : — Alexander  the  Great — Cherokee 
Chief — Quack  Doctor — Cuckold  —  Lawyer,  hunjourous 
Oration  in  Praise  of  the  Law,  Daniel  against  Dishclout — 
Horse  Jockeys — Nobody's,  Somebody's,  Anybody's,  and 
Everybody's  Coats  of  Arms — Family  of  Nobody — Architec- 
ture —  Painting  —  Poetry — Astronomy —  Music — Statues  of 
Honesty  and  Flattery. 

"  Part  IL  Ladies'  Heads — Riding  Hood — Ranelagh  Hood 
— Billingsgate — Laughing  and  Crying  Philosophers — Vfenus's 
Girdle — Cleopatra — French  Nightcap — Face  Painting — Old 
Maid — Young  Married  Lady — Old  Batchelor — Lass  of  the 
Spirit — Quaker — -Two  Hats  Contrasted — Spitalfields  Weaver. 

"  Part  III.  Physical  Wig — Dissertation  on  Sneezing  and 
Snuff-taking — ^Life  of  a  Blood — ^Woman  of  the  Town — Tea- 
table  Critic — Learned  Critic — City  Politician,  humourously 
described — Gambler's  Three  Faces — Gambler's  Funeral  and 
Monument — Life  and  Death  of  a  Wit — Head  of  a  well- 
known  Methodist  Parson,  with  Tabernacle  Harangue. 

"The  doors  to  be  opened  at  five,  begin  exactly  at  six. 
Front  seats,  is.  6d,;  Backseats  is." 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

BAGNIGGE    WELLS. 


iJell  Gwynne  at  Bagnigge  Wells— Bagnigge  Holisa— "  Black  Mary's 
"  A  Bagnigge  Well's  Scene."— Mr.  Deputy 

Bagnigge  Wells  House  was  originally  the  summer 
residence  of  Nell  Gwynne.  Here,  near  the  Fleet 
and  amid  fields,  she  entertained  Charles  and  his 
saturnine  brother  with  concerts  and  merry  break- 
fasts, in  the  careless  Bohemian  way  in  which  the 
noble  specimen  of  divine  right  jdelighted.  The 
ground  where  the  house  stood  was  then  called 
Bagnigge  Vale. 

Bagnigge  House,  "near  the  'Pindar  of  Wake- 
field,'" became  a  place  of  entertainment  for  rus- 


Hole"— The  Royal  Bagnigge  Wells— "The  'Prentice  to  his  Mistress "- 
Dumpling— Curious  Print  of  Bagnigge  Wells. 

ticating  Londoners  as  early  as  1680.  It  stood  on 
the  site  of  the  present  Phoenix  Brewery.  The 
garden  entrance  was  a  little  south-west  of  the 
Clerkenwell  Police  Court.  The  gate  and  an 
inscription  remained  in  Coppice  Row,  on  the  left, 
going  from  Clerkenwell  towards  the  New  Road, 
as  late  as  1847.  In  the  memory  of  man  the 
garden  still  possessed  fruit-trees ;  and  at  the  north 
side  stood  a  picturesque  gable-ended  house,  the 
front  luxuriously  covered  with  vines.    At  the  back 


Eagnigge  Wells.] 


"THE  'PRENTICE  TO  HIS  MISTRESS." 


297 


stood  a  small  brewery.  The  "Pinder  of  Wake- 
field" was  an  old  public-house  in  the  Gray's  Inn 
Road,  near  Chad's  Well,  formerly  much  frequented 
by  the  wagoners  of  the  great  north  road.  The 
Pinder  of  Wakefield  was  a  jolly  Yorkshireman,  it 
will  be  remembered,  who  once  thrashed  Robin 
Hood  himself. 

About  1760  Bagnigge  House  became  famous, 
from  the  discovery  in  the  garden  of  two  mineral 
springs.  Dr.  Bevis,  who  wrote  a  pamphlet  on  Bag- 
nigge Wells,  describes  them  as  near  Coppice  Row 
and  Spa  Fields,  and  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  Battle  Bridge  Turnpike,  and  the  great  new 
road  from  Paddington  to  Islington,  and  near  a 
footpath  which  led  firom  Southampton  Row  and 
Russell  Square  to  Pentonville.  The  doctor  also 
mentions  that  over  one  of  the  chimney-pieces  was 
the  garter  of  St.  George,  the  Royal  arms,  and  a  bust 
of  "  Eleanor  Gwynne,  a  favourite  of  Charles  II.'s." 
Cromwell  says  that  a  black  woman  named  Woolas- 
ton  lived  near  one  of  the  fountains,  and  sold  the 
water,  and  that,  therefore,  it  was  called  "Black 
Mary's  Hole."  The  spring  was  situated,  says  Mr. 
Pinks,  in  the  garden  of  No.  3,  Spring  Place.  Close 
by  there  used  to  be  a  low  public-house  called  "  The 
Fox  at  Bay,"  a  resort,  about  1730,  of  footpads  and 
highwaymen. 

In  the  "  Shrubs  of  Parnassus,"  poems  on  several 
occasions,  by  W.  Woty,  otherwise  "  John  Copywell," 
published  in  1760,  there  are  some  lines  entitled 
"  Bagnigge  Wells,"  wherein  the  following  allusion 
is  made  to  these  springs  : — 

"  And  stil'd  the  place 

Black  Mary's  Hole — there  stands  a  dome  superb, 
Hight  Bagnigge  ;  where  from  our  forefathers  hid. 
Long  have  two  springs  in  dull  stagnation  slept  ; 
But  taught  at  length  by  subtle  art  to  flow. 
They  rise,  forth  from  oblivion's  bed  they  rise. 
And  manifest  their  virtues  to  mankind." 

In  the  Daily  Advertisement  for  July,  1775,  we 
find  the  following : — 

"The  Royal  Bagnigge  Wells,  between  the  Foundling 
Hospital  and  Islington. — Mr.  Davis,  the  proprietor,  takes 
this  method  to  inform  the  publick,  that  both  the  chalybeate 
and  purging  waters  are  in  the  greatest  perfection  ever 
known,  and  may  be  drank  at  3d.  each  person,  or  delivered 
at  the  pump-room  at  8d.  per  gallon.  They  are  recommended 
by  the  most  eminent  physicians  for  various  disorders,  as 
specified  in  the  handbills.  Likewise  in  a  treatise  written  on 
those  waters  by  the  late  Dr.  Bevis,  dedicated  to  the  Royal 
Society,  and  may  be  had  at  the  bar,  price  is.,  where  ladies 
and  gentlemen  may  depend  upon  haiving  the  best  tea,  coffee, 
hot  loaves,  &c."  ' 

The  prologue  to  Colman's  Bon  Ton,  published 
in  1775,  notices  Bagnigge  Wells  as  a  place  of  low 
fashion : — 

.    "  Ah,  I  loves  life  and  all  the  joy"  it  yields, 

§ajfs  M^daiji  Fupock,  warm  from  Spittlefjelds, 


Bon  Ton's  the  space  "twixt  Saturday  and  Monday, 
And  riding  in  a  one-horse  chair  on  Sunday, 
'Tis  drinking  tea  on  summer's  afternoons 
At  Bagnigge  Wells,  with  china  and  gilt  spoons." 

In  the  opening  lines  of  a  satirical  poem,  attributed 
to  Churchill,  entitled  "  Bagnigge  Wells,"  published 
in  1779,  the  kind  of  persons  then  resorting  to  the 
gardens  are  described  : — 

"  Thy  arbours,  Bagnigge,  and  the  gay  alcove 
Where  the  frail  nymphs  in  amourous  dalliance  rove ; 
Where  'prenticed  youths  enjoy  the  Sunday  feast. 
And  City  matrons  boast  their  Sabbath  rest ; 
Where  unfledged  Templars  first  as  fops  parade, 
And  new-made  ensigns  sport  their  first  cockade." 

"In  later  days,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "Miss  Edge- 
worth,  in  one  of  her  tales,  alludes  to  this  place  as 
one  of  vulgar  resort : — 

"  The  City  to  Bagnigge  Wells  repair, 
To  swallow  dust,  and  call  it  air." 

We  have  seen  an  old  engraving  of  Bagnigge 
Wells  Gardens,  bearing  the  following  inscription : — 

"  Frontispiece — A  view  taken  from  the  centre  bridge  in 
the  gardens  of  Bagnigge  Wells.  Published  as  the  Act  directs." 

We  do  not  know  whether  the  engraving  appeared 
in  a  magazine  or  in  a  book  giving  an  account  of 
the  gardens.  The  "  centre  bridge  "  was,  we  think, 
the  one  crossing  the  Fleet.  The  engraving  repre- 
sents on  the  left  a  round,  railed  pond,  in  the 
middle  of  which  is  the  figure  of  a  boy  clasping 
a  swan,  from  the  mouth  of  which  issue  six  jets 
of  water.  Round  the  garden  are  plain-looking 
wooden  drinking  bowers  or  boxes;  and  on  the 
right  are  trees  with  tall  stems  and  closely-cut  for- 
mal fohage  at  the  top;  and  also  two  large  figures 
representing  a  pastoral-looking  man  with  a  scythe, 
and  a  pastoral-looking  woman  wiiSi  a  hay-rake  in 
one  hand  and  a  bird's  nest  in  the  other. 

In  the  old  song  of  "  The  'Prentice  to  his  Mis- 
tress" are  the  following  lines : — 

"  Come,  prithee  make  it  up,  miss,  and  be  as  lovers  be. 
We'll  go  to  Bagnigge  Wells,  miss,  and  there  we'll  have  some 

tea; 
It's  there  you'll  see  the  ladybirds  pereh'd  on  the  stinging 

nettles, 
The  chrystal  water  fountain,  and  the  copper  shining  kettles, 
It's  there  you'll  see  the  fishes,  more  eurious  they  than  whales. 
And  they're  made  of  gold  and  silver,  miss,  and  wags  their 

little  tails, 
O  !  they  wags  their  little  tails,  they  wags  their  little  tails, 
O  !  they're  made  of  gold  and  silver,  miss,  and  they  wags 

their  little  tails. 
O  dear  !  O  la !  O  dear !  O  la  !  O  dear !  O  la  !  how  funny  ! " 

'  Another  engraving,  published  by  the  famous 
print-seller,  Carrington  Bowles,  of  St.  Paul's  Church- 
yard, represents  "A  Bagnigge  Wells  Scene ;  or.  No 
Resisting  Temptation."  The  scene  is  laid  in  the 
gardens,  close  hy  the  boy  and  swan  founts )  and 


298 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Coldbaih  Fields:\ 


a  young  lady,  in  an  elaborate  old-fashioned  head- 
dress, and  a  gaily-trimmed  petticoat  and  long  skirt, 
is  plucking  a  rose  from  one  of  the  flower-beds, 
while  another  damsel  of  corresponding  elegance 
looks  on. 

A  mezzotint,  also  published  by  Bowles,  in  1772, 
shows  "  The  Bread  and  Butter  Manufactory  ;  or, 
the  Humours  of  Bagnigge  Wells."  This  plate, 
which  is  in  size  fourteen  inches  by  ten,  and  repre- 
seitts  several  parties  of  anciently-dressed  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  and  a  boy-waiter  with  a  tray  of  cups 
and  saucers,  was  hung  up,  framed  and  glazed,  in 
the  bar  of  Old  Bagnigge  Wells  House. 

Another  engraving,  issued  by  the  same  publisher, 
shows  "  Mr.  Deputy  Dumpling  and  Family,  enjoy- 
ing a  Summer  Afternoon."  One  of  the  lower  pro- 
jecting windows  of  "  Bagnigge  Wells"  Tavern,  with 
the  western  side-entrance  to  the  gardens,  is  repre- 
sented. Over  the  gate,  on  a  board,  are  the  words 
"Bagnigge  Wells."  Mr.  Deputy  Dumpling  is  a 
very  short,  fat  man,  wearing  a  wig,  perspiring  freely, ' 
and  carrying  a  child.  His  wife,  who  is  also  short 
and  fat,  is  walking  behind  him,  with  an  open  fan 


and  his  walking-stick.  Beside  them  is  a  boy, 
dragging  a  perambulator  of  the  period,  in  which  is 
a  girl  with  a  doll. 

In  1772,  a  curious  aquatinta  print  of  Bagnigge 
Wells,  from  a  painting  by  Saunders,  was  pub- 
lished by  J.  R.  Smith.  It  represents  the  interior 
of  the  long  room,  filled  with  a  gay  and  numerous 
company,  attired  in  the  fashion  of  the  period. 
Some  are  promenading,  others  are  seated  at  tables 
partaking  of  tea.  The  room  is  lighted  by  brazen 
sconces  of  wax  lights,  hanging  from  the  ceiling, 
and  the  organ  is  visible  at  the  distant  end.  The 
artist  has,  after  the  manner  of  Hogarth,  well  de- 
picted the  humours  of  the  motley  company  who  are 
quizzing  one  another,  and  being  ogled  in  turn. 
The  prominent  feature  of  the  sketch  is  a  richly- 
bedizened  madam  on  the  arm  of  a  gallant,  who  is 
receiving  a  polite  salute  from  an  officer,  by  whom 
she  is  recognised,  at  which  her  companion  seems 
to  be  somewhat  chagrined. 

In  18 13,  Bagnigge  Wells  boasted  a  central 
temple,  a  grotto  stuck  with  sea-shells  and  broken 
glass,  alcoves,  &c. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 
COLDBATH   FIELDS    AND   SPA   FIELDS. 

Coldbath  Field's  Prison — Thistlewood  and  his  Co-conspirators  there — John  Hunt  there— Mr.  Hepworth  Dixon's  Account  of  Coldbath  Fields 

Prison — The  Cold  Bath — Budgell,  the  Author — An  Eccentric  Centenarian's  Street  Dress — Spa  Fields — Rude  Sports— Gooseberry  Fair— An 

I      Ox  Roasted  whole— Ducking-pond  Fields— Clerkenwell  Fields— Spa  Fields — Pipe  Fields— Spa  Fields  Chapel — The  Countess  of  Huntingdon 

— Great  Bath  Street,   Coldbath  Fields— Topham,  the   Strong  Man — Swedenborg — Spa   Fields  Burial-ground — Crawford's  Passage,  or 

Pickled  Egg  Walk. 


The  original  House  of  Correction  here  was  built 
in  the  reign  of  James  I.,  the  City  Bridewell  being 
then  no  longer  large  enough  to  hold  the  teeming 
vagabonds  of  London. 

The  oldest  portion  of  the  Coldbath  Fields  Prison 
now  standing  was  built  on  a  swamp,  in  1794,  at 
an  expense  of  ;^65,6so,  and  large  additions  have 
from  time  to  time  been  made.  For  a  long  time 
after  it  was  rebuilt,  Coldbath  Fields  had  a  reputa- 
tion for  severity.  In  1799  Gilbert  Wakefifeld,  the 
classic,  expressed  a  morbid  horror  of  itj  and 
Coleridge  and  Southey,  many  years  later,  in  "  The 
Devil's  Walk,"  pubhshed  their  opinion  that  it  ex- 
ceeded hell  itself,  as  a  place  of  punishment : — 

"  As  he  went  through  Coldbath  Fields  he  saw 
A  sohtary  cell ; 

And  the  Devil  was  pleased,  for  it  gave  him  a  hint 
For  improving  his  prisons  in  heU. " 

In  1820  Thistlewood  and  the  other  Cato  Street 
conspirators  were  lodged  here,  before  being  sent  to 


the  Tower.  At  present  the  prison  has  proper  ac- 
commodation for  about  1,250  prisoners,  though 
many  more  are  sometimes  thrust  into  it,  causing 
great  confusion. 

The  prison,  built  on  a  plan  of  the  benevolent 
Howard's,  soon  became  a  scene  of  great  abuses. 
Men,  women,  and  boys  were  herded  together  in 
this  chief  county  prison,  and  smoking  and  drink- 
ing were  permitted.,  The  governor  of  the  day 
strove  vigorously  to  reform  the  hydra  abuses,  and 
especially  the  tyranny  and  greediness  of  the  turn- 
keys. Five  years  later  he  introduced  stem  silence 
into  his  domain.  "On  the  29th  of  December, 
1834,  a  population  of  914  prisoners  were  suddenly 
apprised  that  all  intercommunication,  by  word, 
gesture,  or  sign,  was  prohibited."  "  This  is  what 
is  called  the  Silent  Associated  System.  The  tread- 
mill had  been  introduced  at  Coldbath  Fields 
several  years  before.  This  apparatus,  the  inven- 
tion of  Mr.  Cubitt,  an  engineer  ?it  L.QW^stgft,  was 


Coldbath  Fields.] 


COLDBATH  FIELDS  PRISON. 


299 


first  set  up,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "  at  Brixton  Prison, 
in  181 7.  At  first,  the  allowance  was  12,000  feet 
of  ascent,  but  was  soon  reduced  to  1,200." 

This  desolate  prison  has  made  a  solitude  of  the 
immediate  neighbourhood,  but  not  far  off  brass- 
founders,  grocers'  canister  makers,  and  such  like 
abound. 

The  dismal  Bastille  has  frequently  been  enlarged. 
In  1830  a  vagrants'  ward  for  150  prisoners  was 
added,  and  shortly  afterwards  a  female  ward  for  300 
inmates.  Coldbath  Fields  is  now  devoted  to  male 
prisoners  alone,  the  females  having  been  removed 
from  it  to  Westminster  Prison  in  1850.  The  tread- 
mill finds  labour  for  160  prisoners  at  a  time,  and 
grinds  flour.  The  ordinary  annual  charge  for  each 
prisoner  is  estimated  at  ^£21  19s.  46..  The  Report 
of  the  Inspector  of  Prisons  for  1861  speaks  of  the 
Coldbath  Fields  cells  as  too  crowded  and  badly 
ventilated,  the  prisoners  being  sometimes  700  or 
800  in  excess  of  the  number  of  cells,  and  sleeping 
either  in  hammocks  slung  too  close  together  in 
dormitories,  or,  still  worse,  on  the  floors  of  work- 
shops, only  a  short  time  before  emptied  of  the 
working  inmates. 

John  Hunt,  Leigh  Hunt's  brother,  was  im- 
prisoned here  for  a  libel,  in  the  Examiner,  on 
the  Prmce  Regent,  the  "fat  Adonis,"  afterwards 
George  iV.  Mr.  Cyrus  Redding,  Campbell's  friend, 
used  to  come  and  chat  and  play  chess  with  him. 
He  had  a  lofty  and  comfortable,  though  small 
apartment  at  the  top  of  the  prison.  Townsend, 
the  old  Bow  Street  runner,  the  terror  of  highway- 
men, was  the  governor  at  the  time.  Hunt  had  the 
privilege  from  the  kind,  shrewd  old  officer,  of  walk- 
ing for  a  couple  of  hours  daily  in  the  governor's 
gardens. 

"Leaving  the  oakum  room,"  says  Mr.  Dixon, 
writing  about  this  prison  in  1850^  "we  enter  the  body 
of  the  original  building.  It  consists  of  four  long 
galleries,  forming  a  parallelogram  by  their  junction 
on  the  sides  of  which  are  ranged  the  cells.  If  the 
system  on  which  the  prison  is  ostensibly  conducted 
were  rigorously  carried  out,  all  the  prisoners  would 
be  separated  at  night ;  but  the  number  of  separate 
cells  is  only  550,  while  the  inmates  often  amount 
to  upwards  of  1,300.  The  surplus  is,  therefore,  to 
be  provided  for  in  general  dormitories,  in  which 
officers  are  obliged  to  remain  all  night  to  prevent 
intercourse  or  disorder. 

"  It  is  in  the  midst  of  passions  like  these,  seething 
in  the  hearts  of  1,200  criminals,  not  separately  con- 
fined as  at  Pentonville,  that  the  administration  of 
this  vast  prison  has  to  be  conducted.  The  official 
staff  consists  of  the  governor,  2  chaplains,  i  surgeon, 
3  trade  Instructors,  and  134  assistant  officers ;  in 


all  141  persons  :  a  corps  rather  too  small  than  too 
large,  considering  the  nature  of  the  duties  devolving 
upon  it.  Without  system,  or  without  a  system 
rigorously  administered,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
maintain  order  in  sush  a  place,  unless  each  indi- 
vidual was  kept  under  lock  and  key,  as  in  the 
neighbouring  House  of  Detention 

"  Passing  through  an  inner  gate  to  the  left,  we 
come  upon  a  yard  in  which  we  find  a  number  of 
prisoners  taking  walking  exercise,  marching  in 
regular  order  and  perfect  silence.  All  of  these  are 
habited  in  the  prison  uniform,  a  good  warm  dress 
of  coarse  woollen  cloth;  the.  misdemeanants  in 
blue,  the  felons  in  dark  grey.  Each  prisoner  wears 
a  large  number  on  his  back,  which  number  con- 
stitutes his  prison  name  and  designation,  proper 
names  not  being  used  in  this  gaol.  Every  kind 
of  personality  that  can  possibly  be  sunk  is  sunk. 
The  subordinate  officers  of  the  prison  seldom 
know  anything  of  the  real  name,  station,  crime, 
connections,  or  antecedents  of  the  person  who  is 
placed  under  their  charge ;  and  this  kind  of  know- 
ledge, except  in  rare  cases  indeed,' never  comes  to 
the  ears  of  fellow-culprits  while  within  the  walls 
of  the  prison.  Some  of  the  men,  it  will  also  be 
noticed,  bear  stars  upon  their  arms;  these  are 
marks  of  good  conduct,  of  great  value  to  the  wearer 
when  in  the  gaol,  and  entitling  him  to  a  certain 
allowance  on  discharge,  varying  according  to  cir- 
cumstances from  five  shillings  to  a  pound.  These 
allowances  are  often  the  salvation  of  offenders." 

Cojdbath  Square  derives  its  chief  name,  says 
Mr.  Pinks,  from  a  celebrated  cold  bath,  the  best 
known  in  London,  fed  by  a  spring  which  was  dis- 
covered by  a  Mr.  Baynes,  in  1697.  The  active 
discoverer  declared  the  water  had  great  power  in 
nervous  diseases,  and  equalled  those  of  St.  Magnus 
and  St.  Winnifred.  In  Mr.  Baynes's  advertisement 
in  the  Post  Bag  he  asserts  that  his  cold  bath 
"  prevents  and  cures  cold,  creates  appetite,  helps 
digestion,  and  makes  hardy  the  tenderest  con- 
stitution. The  coach-way  is  by  Hockley-in-the- 
Hole."  The  bath  is  described  as  "in  Sir  John 
Oldcastle's  field,  near  the  north  end  of  Gray's  Inn 
Lane."  The  bathing-hours  were  from  five  a.m.  to 
one,  the  charge  two  shillings,  unless  the  visitor  was 
so  infirm  as  to  need  to  be  let  down  into  this 
Cockney  Pool  of  Bethesda  in  a  chair.  Mr.  Baynes 
died  in  174S,  and  was  buried  in  the  old  church  of 
St.  James's.  He  was  originally  a  student  of  the 
Middle  Temple,  and  was  for  fifteen  years  treasurer 
of  St.  James's  Charit>'  School.  The  old  bath-house 
was  a  building  with  three  gables,  and  had  a  large 
garden  with  four  turret  summer-houses.  In  181 1 
the  trustees  of  the  London  Feyer  Hospital  bpwglil; 


300 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tColdbath  Fielda. 


the  property  for  ^^3,830,  but,  being  driven  away  by 
the  frightened  inhabitants,  the  ground  was  sold  for 
building,  the  bath  remaining  as  late  as  1865. 

In  Coldbath  Square,  near  the  Cold  Bath,  Eustace 
Budgell,  a  relation  of  Addison,  resided  in  1733. 
Budgell,  who  wrote  many  articles  in  the  Spectator, 
was  pushed  into  good  Government  work  by  his 
kinsman,  Addison,  but  eventually  ruined  himself 
by  the  South  Sea  Bubble  and  litigation.  Budgell 
having  helped  Dr.  Tindal  in  the  pubUcation  of 


"  But  ill  the  motion  with  the  music  suits ; 
So  Orpheus  fiddled,  and  so  danced  the  brutes." 

In  this  same  square,  for  ninety  monotonous 
years,  also  lived  Mrs.  Lewson,  or  Lady  Lewson,  as 
she  was  generally  called,  who  died  in  181 6,  aged, 
as  was  asserted,  one  hundred  and  sixteen  years. 
She  seldom  went  out,  and  still  mort  seldom  saw 
visitors.  In  one  changeless  stagnant  stream  her 
wretched  life  flowed  on.  "  She  always,"  says  Mr. 
Pinks,  "  wore  powder,  with  a  large  tache,  made  of 


SPA   FIELDS  CHAPEL  IN    1781. 


one  of  his  infidel  works,  was  in  consequence  left 
by  the  doctor  ;^2,ooo.  There  arose,  however,  a 
suspicion  of  fraud,  and  the  will  was  set  aside. 
Pope  did  not  forget  the  scandal,  in  attacking  his 
enemies — 

"  Let  Budgell  charge  even  Grub  Street  on  my  bill. 
And  write  whate'er  he  please,  except  my  will." 

This  disgrace  seems  to  have  turned  Budgell's  brain. 
He  took  a  boat,  one  May-day,  at  Somerset  Stairs, 
having  first  filled  his  pockets  with  stones,  and 
vainly  tried  to  decoy  his  little  daughter  with  him. 
While  the  boat  was  shooting  London  Bridge 
Budgell  leaped  out,  and  was  drowned.  Budgell's 
best  epigram  was  on  some  persons  who  danced 
detestably  to  good  music — ■ 


horsehair,  upon  her  head,  over  which  the  hair  was 
turned  up,  and  a  cap  was  placed,  which  was  tied 
under  her  chin,  and  three  or  four  curls  hung  down 
her  neck.  She  generally  wore  silk  gowns,  with  the 
train  long,  a  deep  flounce  all  round,  and  a  very  long 
waist.  Her  gown  was  very  tightly  laced  up  to  her 
neck,  round  which  was  a  kind  of  ruff",  or  frill.  The 
sleeves  came  down  below  the  elbows,  and  to  each  of 
them  four  or  five  large  cuffs  were  attached.  A 
large  bonnet,  quite  flat,  high-heeled  shoes,  a  large 
black  silk  cloak  trimmed  round  with  lace,  and  a 
gold-headed  cane,  completed  her  everyday  costume 
for  the  last  eighty  years,  in  which  dress  she  walked 
round  the  square.  She  never  washed  herself;  be- 
cause she  thought  those  people  who  did  so  were 


Spa  Fields.] 


AN  ECCENTRIC  CENTENARIAN. 


301 


always  taking  cold,  or  laying  the  foundation  of  some 
dreadful  disorder.  Her  method  was  to  besmear  her 
face  and  neck  all  over  with  hog's-lard,  because  that 
was  soft  and  lubricating;  and  then,  because  she 
wanted  a  little  colour  on  her  cheeks,  she  bedaubed 
them  with  rose-pink.     Her  manner  of  living  was  so 


reigns,  and  was  supposed  to  have  been  the  most 
faithful  living  historian  of  her  time,  events  of  the 
year  1715  being  fresh  in  her  recollection.  The 
sudden  death  of  an  old  lady  who  was  a  near  neigh- 
bour made  a  deep  impression  on  Mrs.  Lewson. 
Believing  her  own  time  had  come  she  became 


RAY   STREET,    CLERKENWELL,   ABOUT    l820. 


methodical,  that  she  would  not  drink  tea  out  of  any 
other  than  a  favourite  cup.  At  breakfast  she 
arranged  in  a  particular  way  the  paraphernalia  of 
the  tea-table,  and  dinner  the  same.  She  observed 
a  general  rule,  and  always  sat  in  her  favpurite  chair. 
She  enjoyed  good  health,  and  entertained  the 
greatest  aversion  to  medicine.  At  the  ageof  eighty- 
seven  she  cut  two  new  teeth,  and  she  was  never 
troubled  with  the  toothache.      She  lived  in  five 


weak,  took  to  her  bed,  refused  medical  aid,  and  on 
Tuesday,  the  28th  May,  1816,  died  at  her  house 
in  Coldbath  Square,  at  the  advanced  age  of  one 
hundred  and  sixteen.  She  was  buried  in  Bunhill 
Fields  Burying  Ground." 

"  In  former  times,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "  the  district 
around  the  chapel  known  as  Spa  Fields,  or  the 
Ducking-pond  Fields,  now  intersected  by  streets  of 
well-built  houses,  was  thg  summer's  evening  resort 


302 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Spa  Fields. 


of  the  townspeople,  who  came  hither  to  witness  the 
rude  sports  thfat  were  in  vogue  a  century  ago,  such 
as  duck-hunting,  prize-fighting,  bull-baiting,  and 
others  of  an  equally  demoralising  character.  We 
are  informed  by  an  old  newspaper  that  in  1768 
'  Two  women  fought  for  a  new  shift,  valued  at  half- 
a-crown,  in  the  Spaw  Fields,  near  Islington.  The 
battle  was  won  by  a  woman  called  "  Bruising  Peg," 
who  beat  her  antagonist  in  a  terrible  manner.'  In 
the  summer  of  the  same  year  'an  extraordinary 
battle  was  fought  in  the  Spa  Fields  by  two  women 
against  two  taylors,  for  a  guinea  a  head,  which  was 
won  by  the  ladies,  who  beat  the  taylors  in  a  severe 
manner.'  On  Saturday,  the  28th  August,  1779,  'a 
scene  of  fun  and  business  intermixed  took  place  in 
Spa  Fields,  to  which  no  language  can  do  justice. 
Bills  had  been  stuck  up  and  otherwise  circulated, 
that  an  ox  would  be  roasted  whole,  and  beer  given 
to  the  friends  of  their  king  and  country,  who  were 
invited  to  enlist ;  that  two  gold-laced  hats  should 
be  the  reward  of  the  two  best  cudgel-players  ;  that 
a  gown,  a  shift,  and  a  pair  of  shoes  and  stockings 
should  be  run  for  by  four  old  women ;  and  that 
three  pounds  of  tobacco,  three  bottles  of  gin,  and 
a  silver-laced  hat,  should  be  grinned  for  by  three 
old  men,  the  frightfullest  grinner  to  be  the 
winner.' 

"  About  the  middle  of  the  last  century  it  was  dan- 
gerous to  cross  these  fields  in  the  dusk  of  evening, 
robberies  being  frequent,  and  the  persons  filched 
were  often  grievously  maltrSated  by  the  villains 
who  waylaid  them." 

About  1733 — 1748  Spa  Fields  seems  to  have 
been  much  infected  by  sneaking  footpads,  who 
knocked  down  pedestrians  passing  to  and  from 
London,  and  despoiled  them  of  hats,  wigs,  silver 
buckles,  and  money.  It  was  about  this  dangerous 
time  that  link-boys  were  in  constant  attendance  at 
the  door  of  Sadler's  Wells,  to  light  persons  home 
returning  by  the  lonely  fields  to  the  streets,  of 
Islington,  Clerkenwell,  or  Holborn.  The  lessees 
of  the  theatre  constantly  put  at  the  foot  of  their 
bills,  "  There  will  be  moonlight,"  as  a  special  in- 
ducement to  timid  people.  "  I  have  seen  two  or 
three  link-men,"  Mr.  Britton  says,  in  his  auto- 
biography, "  thus  traverse  the  fields  from  the  Wells 
towards  Queen's  Square." 

At  Whitsuntide  there  was  annually  held  in  these 
fields  a  fair  generally  known  in  London  as  "  the 
Welsh"  or  "  Gooseberry  Fair."  A  field  on  which 
the  south  side  of  Myddelton  Street  is  built  was 
from  this  reason  distinguished  in  old  maps  as 
"the  Welsh  Field."  The  grand  course  for  horse 
and  donkey  racing  was  where  Exmouth  Street  and 
Cobham  Row  are  now  built.     The  fair  is  mentioned 


as  early  as  1744,  about  which  time  it  was  removed 
to  Barnet. 

In  1779  appeared  in  the  Clerkenwell  Chronicle 
the  following  notice  of  sports  which  took  place  in 
Spa   Fieds : — "  On  Friday,   some   bricklayers  en- 
closed a  piece  of  ground  ten  feet  by  six,  for  roasting 
the  ox ;  and  so  substantial  was  the  brickwork  that 
several  persons  sat  up  all  night  to  watch  that  it  did 
not  fall  to  pieces  before  the  morning.     An  hour 
before  sunrising  the  fire  was  lighted  for  roasting  the 
ox,  which  was  brought  in  a  cart  from  St.  James's 
Market.     At  seven  o'clock  the  ox  was  laid  over  the 
fire  in  remembrance  of  the  cruelty  of  the  Spaniards 
in  their  conquest  of  Mexico.     By  nine  o'clock  one 
of  the  legs  was  ready  to  drop  off,  but  no  satire  on 
the  American  colonies  was  intended  ;   for  if  it  had 
fallen  there  were   numbers   ready  to  have  swal- 
lowed it.     At  seven  o'clock  came  a  sergeant  and 
a  number  of  deputy  Sons  of  the  Sword.     The  ser- 
geant made  an  elegant  speech,  at  which  every  one 
gaped    in    astonishment,   because   no   one   could 
understand  it.     At  half-past  two  the  beef  was  taken 
up,  slices  cut  up  and  thrown  among  the  crowd, 
and  many  and  many  a  one  catched  his  hat  full  to 
fill  his  belly. 

"  Instead  of  four  old  women  to  run  for  the  gown, 
&c.,  there  were  only  three  girls,  and  the  race  was 
won  without  running ;  for  two  .of  the  adventurers 
gave  out  before  half  the  contest  was  over,  and  even 
the  winner  was  a  loser,  for  she  tore  off  the  sleeve 
of  her  gown  in  attempting  to  get  it  on.      Only  one 
man  grinned  for  the  tobacco,  gin,  &c.      But  it  was 
enough.    Ugliness    is   no    word  to  express   the 
diabolicality  of  his  phiz.      If  the  king  had  ten  such 
subjects  he  might  fear  they  would   grin  for  the 
crown.      Addison  tells  us  of  a  famous  grinner  who 
threw  his  face  into  the  shape  of  the  head  of  a  base 
viol,  of  a  bat,  of  the  mouth  of  a  coffee-pot,  and  the 
nozzle  of  a  pair  of  bellows ;  ,  but  Addison's  grinner 
was  nothing  to  the  present,  wlio  must  have  been 
born  grinning.       His  mother  must  have  studied 
geometry,  have  longed  for  curves  and  angles,  and 
stamped  them  all  on  the  face  of  the  boy.     The 
mob  was  so  immense  that,  tliough  the  tide  was 
constantly  ebbing  and  flowing,  it  was  supposed  the 
average  number  was  4,000  from  nine  in  the  morn- 
ing till  eight  at  night ;  and  as  this  account  is  not 
exaggerated,  44,000  people  must  have  been  present. 
All  the  ale-houses  for  half  a  mile  round  were 
crowded,  the  windows  were  lined,  and  the  tops 
and  gutters  of  the  houses  filled.     The  place  was 
at  once  a  market  and  a  fair ;  curds  •  and  whey  were 
turned  sour,  ripe  filberts  were  hardened,  and  ex- 
tempore oysters  baked  in  the  sun.      The  bread 
intended  for  the  loyal  was  thrown  about  the  fields 


Spa  fields.] 


THE   COUNTESS   OF    HUNTINGDON. 


303 


by  the  malcontents.  The  beer  was  drunk  out  of 
pots  without  measure  and  without  number;  but 
one  man  who  could  not  get  liquor  swore  he  would 
eat  if  he  could  not  drink  His  Majesty's  health ; 
and  observing  an  officer  with  a  piece  of  beef  on 
the  point  of  his  sword,  he  made  prize  of  it,  and  ate 
it  in  the  true  cannibal  taste. 

"The  feast,  on  the  whole,  was  conducted  with 
great  regularity ;  for  if  one  got  meat  another  got 
bread  only,  and  the  whole  was  consumed ;  but  to 
add  to  the  farce  a  person  threw  a  basket  of  onions 
among  the  bread-eaters.  Some  men  were  enUsted 
as  soldiers,  but  more  were  impressed,  for  the  blood- 
hounds were  on  the  scent,  and  ran  breast-high.  If 
not  'spring-guns,  it  might  fairly  be  said  that  men- 
traps  had  been  fixed  in  the  Spa  Fields.  The  beef 
was  good  of  its  kiAd,  but  hke  the  constitution  of 
Old  England,  more  than  half  spoiled  by  bad 
cooks."     .  . 

The  Ducking-pond  Fields,  Clerkenwell  Fields, 
Spa  Fields,  and  Pipe  Fields,  were  one  and  the 
same  place,  under  different  names.  The  oldest  of 
these  names  was  the  first,  which  applied  especially 
to  the  district  surrounding  Spa  Fields  Chapel,  and 
extending  to  the  northward.  The  Pipe  Fields 
were  so  called  from  the  wooden  pipes  (merely 
elm-trees  perforated)  of  the  New  River  Com- 
pany mentioned  by  Britton  about  the  close  of  last 
century. 

The  building,  afterwards  Spa  Fields  Chapel,  on 
the  south  side  of  Exmouth  Street,  was  originally 
opened  in  1770,  as  a  place  of  public  amusement. 
The  "Pantheon,"  as  it  was  called,  soon  became 
disreputable.  It  is  described  by  a  contemporary 
as  a  large  round  building  crowned  by  a  statue  of 
Fame.  In  the  inside  were  two  galleries.  There 
was  a  garden  with  fancy  walks,  classical  statues, 
and  boxes  for  tea-parties,  wine-drinkers,  and  negus- 
sippers.  The  company,  as  might  be  supposed, 
consisted  chiefly  of  small  tradesmen,  apprentices, 
dressmakers,  servant-girls,  and  disreputable  women. 
This  building  had  been  preceded  by  a  small  country 
inn,  with  swinging  sign,  and  a  long  railed-in  pond, 
where  citizens  used  to  come  and  send  in  their 
water-dogs  to  chase  ducks.  In  this  ducking-pond 
six  children  were  drowned  in  1683,  while  playing 
on  the  ice.  The  Spa  Fields  Pantheon  proprietor 
became  bankrupt  in  1774,  and  the  house  and 
gardens,  which  had  cost  the  speculator  ;^6,ooo, 
were  sold. 

In  1776  Selina,  the  zealous  Countess  of  Hunt- 
ingdon, consulted  Toplady  as  to  purchasing  the 
Pantheon  for  a  chapel,  but  was  dissuaded  from  the 
attempt.  It  was  then  taken  by  a  company,  and 
opened  as  a  Church  of  England  chapel,  in  i '?'?'', 


but  the  Rev.  William  Sellon,  incumbent  of  St. 

James's,  Clerkenwell,  being  refused  the  pew-rents, 

compelled  the  proprietors  to  close  it.     Eventually 

the  Countess  of  Huntingdon  purchased  it,  but  Mr. 

Sellon  again  obtained  a  verdict  in  a  law-court,  and 

stopped  all   further  services.     The  countess  then 

turned  it  into  a  Dissenting  chapel,  and  two'  of  her 

-curates  seceded  from  the  Established  Church,  and 

took  the  oath  of  allegiance  as  Dissenting  ministers. 

The  Gordon  rioters  of  1780  threatened  to  destroy 

it,  but  did  not,  when  they  heard  it  belonged  to  the 

good  countess.     Shrubsole,  the  organist  in  the  Spa 

Fields  Chapel,  was  the  composer  of  that  beautiful 

hymn,  "  All  hail  the  power  of  Jesu's  name."    The 

Rev.  T.  E.  Thoresby  accepted  the  pastorate  in 

1846.     The  fine   building  will  hold  more  than 

2,000  persons,  and  was  for  many  years  one  of  the 

wealthiest  and  most  influential  Dissenting  chapels 

in  London. 

The  Spa  Fields  Charity  School  was  established 
in  1782  by  the  good  countess  before  mentioned, 
and  new  school-rooms  were  built  in  1855  on  the 
site  of  the  countess's  garden. 

The  Countess  of  Huntingdon  herself  lived  in  a 
large  house  covered  with  jasmine,  once  a  part 
of  the  old  Pantheon  tea-gardens,  and  standing  on 
the  east  side  of  the  chapel.  This  lady,  who  did 
so  much  to  benefit  a  godless  age,  was  born  in 
1707  (Queen  Anne),  and  died  in  1791  (George 
III.)  She  married  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon  in  1728. 
Both  by  birth  and  marriage  she  was  connected, 
says  her  chaplain.  Dr.  Haweis,  with  English  kings. 
Her  profound  impressions  of  religion  seem  to  have 
commenced  in  early  infancy,  at  the  funeral  of  a 
child  of  her  own  age.  A  severe  illness  in  later  hfe, 
and  conversation  with  her  sister-in-law,  Lady  Mar- 
garet Hastings,  a  convert  to  Methodism,  still  more 
affected  her.  She  went  to  court,  but  soon  married 
a  serious  nobleman,  and  devoted  herself  to  her 
true  profession — not  the  mere  encouragement  of 
milliners,  but  the  study  of  doing  good. 

"  Bishop  Benson,"  says  Mr.  Pinks, "  was  sent  for 
by  her  husband  to  reason  with  her  ladyship  on  her 
changed  religious  views,  but  she  pressed  upon  him 
so  hard  with  articles  and  homilies,  and  so  urged 
upon  him  the  awful  responsibility  of  his  station,  that 
his  temper  was  ruffled,  and  he  rose  up  in  haste  to 
depart,  bitterly  lamenting  that  he  had  ever  laid  his 
hands  on  George  Whitefield,  to  whom  he  imputed 
the  change.  She  called  him  back,  saying,  'My 
lord,  when  you  come  to  your  dying  bed  that  will 
be  one  of  the  few  ordinations  you  will  reflect 
upon  with  complacence.'  The  Prince  of  Wales 
one  day  at  court  asked  a  lady  of  fashion  where 
my   Lady    Huntingdon    was,    that    she    seldom 


304 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Spa  Fields. 


visited  the  city.     Lady  Charlotte  E replied, 

with  a  sneer,  '  I  suppose  praying  with  her  beggars.' 
The  Prince  shook  his  head,  and  said,  '  When  I  am 
dying  I  shall  be  happy  to  ■  seize  the  skirt  of  Lady 
Huntingdon's  mantle  to  lift  me  up  with  her  to 
heaven.'  We  cannot  help  remarking  the  prejudice 
of  Lady  Mary  Montagu,  who  says,  in  one  of  her 
letters,  in  1755,  'I  have  seen  very  little  of  Lady 
Huntingdon,  so  I  am  not  able  to  judge  of  her 
merit;  if  I  wanted  to  paint  a  fanatic,  I  should  desire 
her  to  sit  for  the  picture.  I  hope  she  means  well, 
but  she  makes  herself  ridiculous  to  the  profane,  and 
dangerous  to  the  good.' " 

The  countess  having  opened  her  house  in  Park 
Street  for  religious  services,  Whitefield  and  Ro- 
maine  preached  in  her  drawing-room  to  the  great 
and  fashionable.  She  began  to  build  chapels  at 
Brighton,  Bath,  Tunbridge  Wells,  and  elsewhere, 
and  also  established  a  training-college  in  South 
Wales.  Altogether,  she  either  built  or  helped  to 
build  sixty-four  chapels,  and  is  supposed  to  have 
expended  ^100,000  in  charity,  though  for  many 
years  she  lived  on  a  small  jointure  of  ^^1,200  a 
year.  The  countess  seems  to  have  been  a  truly 
excellent  and  sensible  woman,  but  with  a  warm- 
tempered  prejudice,  and  with  a  true  aristocratic 
dislike  to  opposition.  "  I  believe,"  says  her 
chaplain,  "  that  during  the  many  years  I  was 
honoured  with  her  friendship,  she  often  possessed 
no  more  than  the  gown  sha  wore.  I  have  often 
said  she  was  one  of  the  poor  who  lived  on  her  own 
bounty." 

Great  Bath  Street,  Coldbath  Fields,  where  Top- 
ham,  the  Strong  Man  of  Islington,  exhibited  his 
feats  of  strength  in  1741,  was  built  about  1725. 
On  the  sale  of  the  Jervoise  estate,  in  1811,  this 
property  was  sold  for  ;^8,56o.  At  No.  26  in 
this  street  that  extraordinary  man  of  science  and 
dreamer,  Emanuel  Swedenborg,  resided  towards 
the  end  of  his  life,  and  died  there  in  1772.  A 
short  sketch  of  this  philosopher  will  not  be  unin- 
teresting, as  his  works  are  still  read  but  by  few. 

This  great  "  seer"  was  the  son  of  a  Swedish 
bishop,  and  was  born  in  1688.  As  a  child  his 
thoughts  turned  chiefly  on  religion.  At  the  Uni- 
versity of  Upsala  the  lad  steadily  studied  the 
classical  languages,  mathematics  and  natural  philo- 
sophy, and  at  the  age  of  twenty-two  took  his 
degree  as  a  doctor  of  philosophy,  and  published 
his  first  essay.  In  17 10  the  young  student  came 
to  Loni^on,  when  the  plague  prevailed  in  Sweden, 
and  narrowly  escaped  being  hung  for  breaking  the 
quarantine  laws.  He  spent  some  time  at  Oxford, 
and  then  went  abroad  for  three  years,  living  chiefly 
in  Utrecht,  Paris,  and  Griefswal^e.    He  returned 


to  Sweden  in  17 14  through  Stralsund,  which  that 
valiant  madman,  Charles  XII.,  was  just  then  be- 
sieging.   Introduced  to  the  chivalrous  king  in  17 16, 
he  was  made  Assessor  to  the  Board  of  Mines. 
During  the   siege  of  Frederickshall  Swedenborg 
"  rendered  important  service  by  transporting  over 
mountains  and  valleys,  on  rolling  machines  of  his 
own  invention,  two  galleys,  five  large  boats,  and  a 
sloop,  from  Stromstadt  to  Iderfjol,  a  distance  of 
fourteen  miles.     Under  cover  of  these  vessels  the 
king  brought  his  artillery  (which  it  would  have  been 
impossible  to  have  conveyed,  by  land)  under  the 
very  walls  of  Frederickshall."    He  now  devoted 
years  to  the  production  of  works  on  mathematics, 
astronomy,  chemistry,  and  mineralogy.    He  retired 
from  his  office  of  assessor  in  1747,  and  probably 
then  returned  to  his  theological  contemplations,  and 
became  again  a  spiritualistic  dreamer.     He  came 
from  Amsterdam  to  London  in  1 771,  and  resided 
at  Shearsmith's,  a  peruke-maker's,  No.  26,  Great 
Bath  Street,  Coldbath  Fields,  where  he  finished 
his  "True  Christian  Religion."    Towards  the  end 
of  the  year   Dr.    Hartley  and   Mr.    Cookworthy 
visited  him  in  Clerkenwell.     "  The  details  of  the 
the  interview,"  says   Mr.    Pinks,    "are  not  given, 
but  we  gather   enough    to    show    his    innocence 
and  simplicity,  for  on  their  inviting  him  to  dine 
with  them  he  politely  excused  himself,  adding  that 
his   dinner  was   already  prepared,   which  dinner 
proved  to  be   a  meal  of  bread    and  milk.    On 
Christmas  Eve,  1771,  a  stroke  of  apoplexy  deprived 
him  for  a  time  of  speech.     Towards  the  end  of 
February,  1772,  the  Rev.  John  Wesley  was  in  con- 
clave with  some  of  his  preachers,  when  a  Latin 
note  was  put  into  his  hand.     It  caused  him  evident 
astonishment,  for  the  substance  of  it  was  as  follows: 

'  Great  Bath  Street,  Coldbath  Fields,  1772. 
'  Sir, — ^I  have  been  informed  in  the  world  of  spirits  that 
you  have  a  desire  to  converse  with  me.     I  shall  be  happy  to 
see  you  if  you  will  favour  me  with  a  visit. 

'  I  am.  Sir,  your  humble  servant, 

'  E.  Swedenborg.' 

"  Wesley  frankly  acknowledged  that  he  had  been 
strongly  impressed  with  a  desire  to  see  him,  but 
that  he  had  not  mentioned  that  desire  to  any  one. 
He  wrote  an  answer  that  he  was  then  preparing 
for  a  six-months'  journey,  but  he  would  wait  upon 
Swedenborg  on  his  return  to  London.  Sweden- 
borg wrote  in  reply  that  he  should  go  into  the 
world  of  spirits  on  the  29th  of  the  then  next  month, 
never  more  to  return.  The  consequence  was  that 
these  two  remarkable  persons  never  met."    ' 

Swedenborg  professed  to  the  last  the  entire  truth 
of  all  his  strange  revelations  of  heaven  and  hell, 
and  died  on  the  day  he  had  predicted  to  Wesky. 


Spa  Fields.] 


SPA  FIELDS  BURIAL-GROUND. 


30S 


After  lying  in  state  for  several  days  at  the  under- 
taker's, ■  he  was  buried  in  the  Lutheran  Chapel, 
Princes'  Square,  Ratcliflf  Highway,  and  his  coffin 
lies  by  the  side  of  that  of  Captain  Cook's  friend, 
Dr.  Solander,  the  naturalist. 

"  In  person,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "  Swedenborg  was 
about  five  feet  nine  inches  in  height,  rather  thin,  and 
of  brown  complexion ;  his  eyes  were  of  a  brownish- 
grey,  nearly  hazel,  and  rather  small ;  he  had  always 
a  cheerful  smile  upon  his  countenance.  His  suit, 
according  to  Shearsmith,  was  made  after  an  old 
fashion ;  he  wore  a  full-bottomed  wig,  a  pair  of  long 
ruffles,  and  a  curious-hilted  sword  and  he  carried  a 
gold-headed  cane.  In  diet  he  was  a  vegetarian,  arid 
he  abstained  from  alcoholic  liquors.  He  paid  litde 
attention  to  times  and  seasons  for  sleep,  and  he  often 
laboured  through  the  night,  and  sometimes  con- 
tinued in  bed  several  days  together,  while  enj'oying 
his  spiritual  trances.  He  desired  Shearsmith 
never  to  disturb  him  at  such  times,  an  injunction 
which  was  necessary,  for  the  look  of  his  face  was 
so  peculiar  on  those  occasions,  that  Shearsmith 
thought  he  was  dead." 

Soon  after  Spa  Fields  Chapel  was  opened,  in 
1777,  some  speculators  leased  of  the  Marquis  of 
Northampton  the  two  acres  of  ground  in  the  rear 
of  the  building,  and  converted  it  into  a  general 
burying-ground.  The  new  cemetery,  embedded 
among  houses,  was  intended  to  bring  in  a  pretty 
penny,  as  it  was  calculated  to  have  room  for  2,722 
adults,  but  it  soon  began  to  fill  at  the  rate  of  1,500 
bodies  annually,  there  being  sometimes  thirty-six 
burials  a  day.  In  fifty  years  it  was  carefully  com- 
puted that  80,000  interments  had  taken  place  in 
this  pestilential  graveyard !  in  1842  some  terrible 
disclosures  began  to  ooze  out,  proving  the  shame- 
less greediness  of  the  human  ghouls'  who  farmed 
the  Spa  Fields  burial-ground.  It  was  found  that 
it  was  now  the  nightly  custom  to  exhume  bodies 
and  burn  the  coffins,  to  make  room  for  fresh 
arrivals.  To  make  the  new  grave-  seven  or  eight 
bodies  were  actually  chopped  up,  and  corpses  re- 
cently interred  were  frequently  dragged  up  by  ropes, 
so  that  the  coffin  might  be  removed  and  split  up 
for  struts  to  prop  up  the  new-made  graves.'  Bodies 
were  sometimes  destroyed  after  only  two  days' 
burial.  A  grave-digger  who,  being  discharged,  in- 
sisted on  removing  the  body  of  his  child,  which 
had  been  recently  interred,  declared  that  he  and 
his  mates  had  buried  as  many  as  forty-five  bodies 
in  one  day,  besides  still-boms.  In  one  year  they 
had  had  2,017  funerals,  and  the  stones  of  families 
who  had  purchased  graves  in  perpetuity  were  fre- 
quently displaced  and  destroyed.  The  inhabitants 
of  the  neighbourhood  then  petitioned  Parliament, 


complaining  of  the  infectious  smells  from  the  burial- 
ground,  and  of  the  shameful  scandal  generally. 

"The  lessees  of  the  ground,"  says  the  hiatorian 
of  Clerkenwell,  "  sought  to  allay  the  general  excite- 
ment by  repudiating  the  charges  brought  against 
their  underlings,  but  there  was  no  mitigation  of  the 
evil  complained  of ;  nightly  burnings  still  took  place. 
On  the  night  of  the  14th  December,  1843,  an  alarm 
was  raised  that  the  bone-house  of  Spa  Fields  ground 
was  on  fire,  and  the  engine-keeper  stated  he  saw  in 
the  grate  a  rib-bone  and  other  bones,  partly  burnt, 
and  a  quantity  of  coffin-wood  in  different  stages 
of  decay.  By  the  exertions  of  Mr.  G.  A.  'Walker, 
M.D.,  of  the  Society  for  the  AboHtion  of  Burials 
in  Towns,  seconded  by  several  of  the  principal  in- 
habitants, this  disgraceful  state  of  things  was  brought 
again  under  the  attention  of  the  magistrates,  and 
the  lessees,  managers,  and  others  were  summoned 
to  appear  at  the  Clerkenwell  Police  Court,  when 
other  revolting  statements  were  made  and  confirmed. 
At  length  these  disgusting  and  loathsome  practices 
were  suppressed  by  law."  * 

Dorrington  Street  was  erected,  says  Mr.  Pinks, 
in  1720,  and  was  famous  for  its  old  public-house, 
the  "Apple  Tree,"  at  the  south-east  corner.  It 
was  a  favourite  resort  of  prisoners  discharged  from 
the  neighbouring  House  of  Correction,  Topham, 
the  Strong  Man,  already  mentioned  by  us  in  our 
chapter  on  Islington,  once  kept  the  "  Apple  Tree." 
The  favourite  tap-room  joke  was,  that  the  bell- 
pulls  were  handcuffs ;  and  when  a  guest  wished  a 
friend  to  ring  the  bell  for  the  barman,  he  shouted, 
"  Agitate  the  conductors  !" 

Crawford's  Passage,  or  Pickled  Egg  'Walk,  is  a 
small  lane,  leading  from  Baker's  Row  into  Ray 
Street,  rejoicing  in  certainly  a  very  eccentric  name. 
Half-way  up  stands  a  small  public-house  known  as 
the  "  Pickled  Egg,"  from  a  Dorsetshire  or  Hamp- 
shire man,  who  here  introduced  to  his  customers 
a  local  delicacy.  It  is  said  that  Charles  I.,  during 
one  of  his  suburban  journeys,  once  stopped  here 
to  taste  a  pickled  egg,  which  is  said  to  be  a 
good  companion  to  cold  meat.  There  was  a  well- 
known  cockpit  here  in  1775.  There  were  two 
kinds  of  this  ancient  but  cruel  amusement,  which 
is  now  only  carried  on  by  thieves  and  low  sporting 
men  in  sly  nooks  of  London ;  one  was  called 
the  "battle  royal,"  and  the  other  the  "Welsh 
main."  In  the  former  a  certain  number  of  cocks 
were  let  loose  to  fight,  the  survivor  of  the  conljst 
being  accounted  the  victor,  and  obtaining  the  prize ; 
in  the  latter,  which  was  more  cruel,  the  con- 
querors fought  again  and  again,  till  there  was  only 
one  survivor,  and  he  became  "  the  shakebag"  or 
pet  of  the  pit. 


3o6 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Hockley-in-fli4-Hole. 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  OF  DETENTION,  CLERKENWELL. 


CHAPTER     XXXIX. 

HOCKLEY-IN-THE-HOLE. 

Ray  Street— Bear  Garden   of  Hockley-in-the-HoIe -Amusements  at  Hockley— Bear-baiting— Christopher  Preston  Killed— Indian   Kings   at 

Hockley— Bill  of  the  Bear  Garden— Dick  Turpin. 


This  place  was  formerly  one  of  those  infamous 
localities  only  equalled  by  Tothill  Fields,  at  West- 
minster, and  Saffron  Hill,  in  the  valley  of  the  Fleet. 
It  was  the  resort  of  thieves,  highwaymen,  and  bull- 
baiters.  Its  site  was  marked  by  Ray  Street,  itself 
almost  demolished  by  the  Clerkenwell  improve- 
ments of  1856-7.  The  ill-omened  name  of  Hockley- 
in-the-Hole  seems  to  have  been  derived  from  the 
frequent  overflows  of  the  Fleet.  Hockley,  in  Saxon, 
says  Camden,  means  a  "muddy  field  :"  there  is  a 


Hockley-in-the-Hole  in  Bedfordshire;  and  Field- 
ing makes  that  terrible  thief-taker,  Jonathan  Wild, 
son  of  a  lady  who  lived  in  Scragg  Hollow,  Hockley- 
in-the-Hole.  In  1756  this  wretched  locality  was 
narrow,  and  surrounded  by  ruinous  houses,  but  the 
road  was  soon  after  widened,  raised,  and  drained. 
In  185  s  the  navvies  came  upon  an  old  pavement 
near  Ray  Street,  and  oak  piles,  black  and  slimy,  the 
site  of  a  City  mill. 
The  upper  portion  of  the  thoroughfare  in  coU' 


Sockley-iA-the-Hoie.] 


CHANGES  IN  CLERKlENWfiLl.. 


%t>1 


3o8 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Hockley-in-the-tlolf. 


tinuation  of  Coppice  Row  was,  says  Mr.  Pinks, 
formerly  called  Rag  Street,  in  allusion,  it  may  be, 
to  the  number  of  marine-store  shops.  In  1774 
the  notorious  and  polluted  name  of  Hockley-in-the- 
Hole  was  formally  changed  to  that  of  Ray  Street. 

On  the  site  of  the  "  Coach  and  Horses,"  in  Ray 
Street,  once  stood  the  Bear  Garden  of  Hockley-in- 
the-Hole,  which,  in  Queen  Anne's  time,  rivalled 
the  Southwark  Bear  Garden  of  Elizabethan  days. 
Hare,  in  1700,  the  masters  of  the  noble  science  of 
self-defence  held  their  combats. 

The  earliest  advertisement  of  the  amusements 
at  Hockley  occurs  in  the  Daily  Post  of  the  loth 
July,  1700.  In  the  spring  of  the  following  year 
it  was  announced  that  four  men  were  "  to  fight  at 
sword  for  a  bet  of  half-a-guinea,  and  six  to  wrestle 
for  three  pairs  of  gloves,  at  half-a-crown  each  pair. 
The  entertainment  to  begin  exactly  at  three 
o'clock."  The  same  year  a  presentment  of  the 
grand  jury  for  the  county  of  Middlesex,  dated  the 
4th  June,  1701,  complained  of  this  place  as  a 
public  nuisance,  and  prayed  for  its  suppression. 
"  We  having  observed  the  late  boldness  of  a  sort 
of  men  that  stile  themselves  masters  of  the  noble 
science  of  defence,  passing  through  this  city  with 
beat  of  drums,  colours  displayed,  swords  drawn, 
with  a  numerous  company  of  people  following 
them,  dispersing  their  printed  bills,  thereby  in- 
viting persons  to  be  spectators  of  those  inhuman 
sights  which  are  directly  contrary  to  the  practice 
and  profession  of  the  Christian  religion,  whereby 
barbarous  principles  are  instilled  in  the  minds  of 
men ;  we  think  ourselves  obliged  to  represent  this 
matter,  that  some  method  may  be  speedily  taken 
to  prevent  their  passage  through  the  city  in  such  a 
tumultuous  manner,  on  so  unwarrantable  a  design." 

"  You  must  go  to  Hockley-in-the-Hole  and  Mary- 
bone,  child,  to  learn  valour,"  says  Mrs.  Peachum 
to  Filch,  in  Gay's  Beggar's  Opera.  On  Mondays  and 
Thursdays,  the  days  of  the  bull  and  bear  baitings 
at  this  delectable  locality,  the  animals  were  paraded 
solemnly  through  the  streets. 

"In  1709  a  most  tragical  occurrence  took  place 
at  Hockley-in-the-Hole.  Christopher  Preston,  the 
proprietor  of  the  Bear  Garden,  was  attacked  by  one 
of  his  own  bears,  and  almost  devoured,  before  his 
friends  were  aware  of  his  danger.  A  sermon  upon 
this  sad  event  was  preached  in  the  church  of  St. 
James's  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pead,  the  then  incumbent 
of  Clerkenwell." 

When  the  bull  and  bears  were  paraded  in  the 
street,  or  swordsmen  were  to  fight,  bills  such  as  the 
following  were  distributed  among  the  crowd  :— 

"  A  trial  of  still  to  te  performed  between  two  profound 
masters  of  the  noble  science  of  self-defence^  on  Wednesday 


next,  the  I3tli  of  July,  1709,  at  two  o'clock  precisely.  I,  George 
Gray,  bom  in  the  city  of  Norwich,  who  has  fought  in  most 
parts  of  the  West  Indies — viz.,  Jamaica,  Barbadoes,  and 
several  other  parts  of  the  world,  in  all  twenty-five  times  upon 
the  stage,  and  was  never  yet  worsted,  and  am  now  lately 
come  to  London,  do  invite  James  Harris  to  meet  and  exercise 
at  the  following  weapons  :  back-sword,  sword  and  dagger, 
sword  and  buckler,  single  falchion,  and  case  of  falchions.  I, 
James  Harris,  master  of  the  said  noble  science  of  defence, 
who  formerly  ridva.  the  Horse  Guards,  and  hath  fought  Jio 
prizes,  and  never  left  a  stage  to  any  man,  will  not  fail  (God 
willing)  to  meet  this  brave  and  bold  inviter  at  the  time  and 
place  appointed,  desiring  sharp  swords,  and  from  him  no 
favour.     No  person  to  be  upon  the  stage  but  the  seconds. 

"ViVAT  Regina."    ■ 


"  At  his  Majesty's  Bear  Garden,  in  Hockley-in-the-Hole, 
a  trial  of  skill  is  to  be  performed  to-morrow,  being  the  gth 
instant  (without  beat  of  drum),  between  these  following 
masters : — I,  John  Terrewest,  of  Oundle,  in  Northampton- 
shire, master  of  the  noble  science  of  defence,  do  invite  you, 
William  King,  who  lately  fought  Mr.  Joseph  Thomas,  once 
more  to  meet  me  and  exercise  at  the  usual  weapons.— I, 
William  King,  will  not  fail  to  meet  this  fair  inviter,  desiring 
a  clear  stage,  and,  from  him,  no  favour.  Note.  There  is 
lately  built  a  pleasant  cool  gallery  for  gentlemen."  (Adver- 
tisement in  the  Postboy  for  July  8th,  1 701.) 


"At  the  Bear  Garden,  Hockley-in-the-Hole,  1710.— This 
is  to  give  notice  to  all  gentlemen  gamesters,  and  others,  that 
on  this  present  Monday  is  a  match  to  be  foi^ht  by  two  dogs, 
one  from  Newgate  Market  against  one  from  Hony  Lane 
Market,  at  a  bull,  for  a  guinea,  to  be  spent.  Five  let-goes  out 
of  hand ;  which  goes  fairest  and  farthest  in  wins  all.  Likewise 
a  green  bull  to  be  baited,  which  was  never  baited  before,  and 
a  bull  to  be  turned  loose,  with  fireworks  all  over  him ;  also 
a  mad  ass  to  be  baited.  With  a  variety  of  buU-baiting  and 
bear-baiting,  and  a  dog  to  be  drawn  up  with  fireworks. 
To  begin  exactly  at  three  of  the  clock." 

In  1 7 10  the  four  Indian  kings  mentioned  by 
Addison  came  to  Hockley-in-the-Hole,  to  see  the 
rough  playing  at  backsword,  dagger,  single  falchion, 
and  quarter-staff.  In  1712  Steele  described  a 
combat  here,  in  the  Spectator.  The  result  of  these 
fights  was,  it  appears,  often  arranged  beforehand, 
and  the  losing  man  often  undertook  to  receive  the 
cuts,  provided  they  were  not  too  many  or  too  deep. 
About  this  time  the  proprietor  of  the  Bear  Garden 
left  Hockley,  and  started  a  new  garden  at  Mary- 
lebone,  and  for  a  time  Hockley-in-the-Hole  feU 
into  disrepute  with  "the  fancy."  In  1715,  how- 
ever, there  was  a  great  backsword  player  here,  who 
boasted  he  had  cut  down  all  the  swordsmen  of  the 
West,  and  was  ready  to  fight  the  best  in  London. 
In  1 7 16  a  wild  bull  was  baited  with  fireworks,  and 
bears  were  baited  to  death;  and,  in  1721,  people 
came  to  Hockley  to  see  sparring  and  eat  furmenty 
and  hasty-pudding. 

^^  173s  ^ve  find  swordsmen  having  nine  bouts 
with  single  sword,  their  left  hands  being  tied  down. 
When  a  favourite  dog  was  tossed  by  a  Hockley-in- 


ClerkenwcU.] 


THE  EXPLOSION  AT  CLERKENWELL. 


309 


the-Hole  bull,  his  master  and  his  friends  used  to 
run  and  try  to  catch  him  on  their  shoulders,  for 
fear  he  should  be  hurt  in  the  fall.  Good  sensitive 
creatures !  It  was  also  the  custom  to  stick  ribbon 
crosses  on  the  foreheads  of  favourite  bull-dogs,  and 
when  these  were  removed  and  stuck  on  the  bull's 
forehead,  the  dog  was  cheered  on  till  he  had  re- 
covered his  treasured  decoration.  Cowardly  dogs 
stole  under  the  bull's  legs,  and  often  got  trampled 
to  death.  The  really  "plucky"  dog  pinned  the 
bull  by  the  nose,  and  held  on  till  his  teeth  broke 
6ut  or  he  was  gored  to  death.  There  was  cock- 
fighting  here  too,  and,  in  1744,  says  Mr.  Pinks,  the 
prize  was  a  large  sow  and  ten  pigs.  No  game-cock 
was  to  exceed  four  pounds  and  an  ounce  in  weight, 


The  old  dwelling-house  that  adjoined  the  Bear 
Garden  was,  in  later  years,  the  "Coach  and 
Horses"  pubhc-house.  The  place  is  so  old  that 
the  present  large  room  over  the  bar  was  originally 
on  the  second  storey,  and  the  beer-cellars  were 
habitable  apartments.  Many  years  ago  a  small 
valise,  with  wooden  ends,  and  marked  on  the 
lid  "R.  Turpin"  (perhaps  the  famous  Dick 
Turpin,  the  highwayman)  was  found  here,  and 
also  several  old  blank  keys,  such  as  thieves  wax 
over  to  get  impressions  of  locks  they  wish  to 
open.  For  the  use  of  such  "minions  of  the 
moon,"  there  used  to  be  a  vaulted  passage,  now 
closed,  that  communicated  with  the  banks  of  the 
Fleet. 


CHAPTER    XL. 

CLERKENWELL. 

House  of  Detention— Explosion  and  Attempted  Rescue  of  Fenian  Prisoners— St.  John's  Gate— Knights  Hospitallers  and  Knights  Templars- 
Rules  and  Privileges  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John— Revival  of  the  Order- Change  of  Dress— The  Priors  of  Clerkenwell  and  the  Priory 
Church — Its  Destruction — Henry  II.'s  Council — Royal  Visitors  at  the  Priory — The  Present  Church — ^The  Cock  Lane  Ghost — St.  John's 
Gate — ^The  Jerusalem  Tavern — Cave  and  the  Gentleman's  Magazine — Relics  of  Johnson — The  Urban  Club— Hicks's  Hall — Red  Lion 
Street  and  its  Associations — St.  John's  Square  and  its  Noble  Inhabitants — Wilkes's  Birthplace — Modem  Industries  in  Clerkenwell — Burnet 
House  and  its  Inmates— Bishop  Burnet — Clarke  the  Commentator — An  Unjust  Judge— Poole  of  the  Synopsis — ^Jesuits'  College  Discovered. 


The  House  of  Detention,  Clerkenwell,  a  place  of 
imprisonment  as  old  as  1775,  was  rebuilt  in  1818, 
and  also  in  1845.  This  prison  was  the  scene,  in 
December,  1867,  of  that  daring  attempt  to  rescue 
the  Fenian  prisoners,  Burke  and  Casey,  which  for 
a  day  or  two  scared  London. 

"  In  the  course  of  the  day,"  says  a  writer  in 
the  Annual  Register,  "  a  policeman  on  duty  out- 
side the  prison  had  his  suspicions  so  strongly 
aroused,  by  seeing  a  woman  named  Justice  and  a 
man  frequently  conversing  together,  that  he  com- 
municated with  one  of  the  prison  authorities,  who, 
in  consequence,  made  arrangements  for  giving  an 
alarm,  if  it  should  become  necessary.  During  the 
day,  a  warder  on  duty  inside  had  his  attention 
directed  to  a  man  at  a  window  in  the  upper  part 
of  a  house  in  Woodbridge  Street,  overlooking  the 
prison-yard.  He  went  to  bring  another  warder, 
and  on  their  return  the  man  had  vanished,  but 
was  shortly  afterwards  seen  talking  to  the  woman 
Justice  near  the  entrance  to  the  prison,  and  to  the 
man  who  had  been  seen  loitering  with  her.  Later 
in  the  day,  the  warder  had  his  attention  called  to 
the  same  window  in  the  opposite  house  in  Wood- 
bridge  Street,  overlooking  the  prison-yard;  and 
there  he  saw  a  woman  leaning  out,  and  several  men 
inside  the  room.  He  distinctly  counted  five  men ; 
but  there  seemed  to  him  to  be  more,  and  they 
were  all  looking  anxiously  in  the  direction  of  the 


place  where  the  explosion  occurred  almost  imme- 
diately afterwards. 

"  The  explosion,  which  sounded  like  a  discharge 
of  artillery,  occurred  at  exactly  a  quarter  to  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  there  was  still  some 
daylight,  and  was  heard  for  miles  round.     In  the 
immediate  neighbourhood  it  produced  the  greatest 
consternation ;   for  it  blew  down  houses,  and  shat- 
tered the  windows  of  others  in  ^11  directions.      A 
considerable  length  of  the  outer  wall  of  the  prison 
was  levelled  with  the  ground.      The  windows  of 
the  prison,  of  coarse  glass  more  than  a  quarter  of 
an  inch  thick,  were,  to  a  large  extent,  broken,  and 
the  side  of  the   building   immediately  facing  the 
outer  wall  in  which  the  breach  was  made,  and  about 
150  feet  from  it,  showed  the  marks  of  the  bricks 
which   were  Tiurled   against  it   by  the   explosion. 
The  wall  surrounding  the  prison  was  about  twenty- 
five  feet  high,  two  feet  three  inches  thick  at  the 
bottom,  and  about  fourteen  inches  thick  at  the  top. 
"The  result  of  the  explosion  upon  the  unfor- 
tunate inmates  of  the  houses  in  Corporation  Lane 
and  other  adjoining  buildings  was  most  disastrous. 
Upwards  of  forty  innocent  people — men,  women, 
and  children  of  all  ages,  some  of  whom  happened 
to  be  passing  at  the  time — were  injured  more  or 
less  severely;  one  was  killed  on  the  spot,  and  three 
more  died  shortly  afterwards." 
Several  persons  were  arrested  as  having  been 


310 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


rClerftenweH. 


implicated  in  the  crime,  and  tried  at  the  Central 
Criminal  Court.  At  their  trial  a  boy,  who  was 
the  only  eye-witness  of  the  attempt,  deposed  that 
about  a  quarter  to  four  o'clock  he  was  standing  at 
Mr.  Young's  door,  No.  5,  when  he  saw  a  large  barrel 
close  to  the  wall  of  the  prison,  and  a  man  leave  the 
barrel  and  cross  the  road.  Shortly  afterwards  the 
man  returned  with  a  long  squib  in  each  hand.  One 
of  these  he  gave  to  some  boys  who  were  playing  in 
the  street,  and  the  other  he  thrust  into  the  barrel. 
One  of  the  boys  was  smoking,  and  he  handed  the 
man  a  light,  which  the  man  applied  to  the  squib. 
The  man  stayed  a  short  time,  until  he  saw  the  squib 
begin  to  burn,  and  then  he  ran  away.  A  police- 
man ran  after  him ;  and  when  he  arrived  opposite 
No.  5  "  the  thing  went  off."  The  boy  saw  no 
more  after  that,  as  he  himself  was  covered  with 
bricks  and  mortar.  There  was  a  white  cloth  over 
the  barrel,  which  was  black ;  and  when  the  man 
returned  with  the  squib  he  partly  uncovered  the 
barrel,  but  did  not  wholly  remove  the  cloth.  There 
were  several  men  and  women  in  the  street  at  the 
time,  and  children  playing.  Three  little  boys  were 
standing  near  the  barrel  all  the  time.  Some  of  the 
people  ran  after  the  man  who  lighted  the  squib. 

The  legends  and  traditions  of  this  most  ancient 
and  interesting  district  of  London  all  cluster  round 
St.  John's  Gate  (the  old  south  gate  of  the  priory 
of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem),  and  the  old  crypt  of 
St.  John's  Church,  rehcs  of  old  religion  and  of 
ancient  glory.  , 

For  upwards  of  four  hundred  years  the  Knights 
Hospitallers  flourished  in  Clerkenwell,  and  a 
brief  note  of  their  origin  here  becomes  indis- 
pensable. The  order  seems  to  have  had  its  rise 
in  the  middle  of  the  eleventh  century,  when  some 
pious  merchants  of  Amalfi  obtained  leave  of  the 
Mohammedans  to  build  a  refuge  for  sick  and  needy 
Christian  pilgrims,  near  the  church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  at  Jerusalem.  The  hospital  was  dedi- 
cated to  St.  John  the  Cypriote,  Patriarch  of  Alexan- 
dria, a  good  man,  who,  in  the  seventh  century,  when 
the  Saracens  first  took  Jerusalem,  had  generously 
sent  money  and  food  to  the  afflicted  Christians 
of  Syria.  Subsequently  the  order  renounced  John 
the  Patriarch,  and  took  up  with  the  more  agreeable 
patronage  of  St.  John  the  Baptist. 

In  the  first  crusade,  when  the  overwhelming 
forces  of  Christian  Europe  forced  their  way  into 
the  Holy  City,  and  the  streets  which  Christ  had 
trodden,  scattering  blessings,  floated  in  infidel 
blood,  the  hospital  of  St.  John  was  filled  with 
wounded  Crusaders,  many  of  whom,  on  their  re- 
covery, doffed  their  mail  and  put  on  the  robes  of 
the  holy  and  charitable  brptherhood,    The  real 


founder  of  the  order  was  Gerard,  who,  when 
Godfrey  de  Bouillon  was  chosen  King  of  Jeru- 
salem,  in  1099,  proposed  to  the  brethren  a  regular 
costume,  and  became  the  first  rector  or  master  of 
the  order.  The  dress  formally  adopted,  in  11 04, 
was  a  black  robe  and  white  cross.  Raymond  de 
Pay,  who  succeeded  Gerard,  took  a  bolder  step. 
Tired  of  merely  feeding  and  nursing  sick  and 
hungry  pilgrims,  he  proposed  to  his  brethren  to 
make  the  order  a  military  one.  By  1130  this 
section  of  the  church  mihtant  had  whipped  off 
hundreds  of  shaven  heads,  and  covered  themselves 
with  glory. 

In  1 187,  when  Saladin  retook  Jerusalem,  he  was 
gracious  to  the  Hospitallers,  who  had  been  kind  to 
the  wounded  and  the  prisoners,  and  he  allowed  ten 
of  the  order  to  remain  and  complete  their  cures. 
Still  indefatigable  against  the  unbelievers,  the  men 
of  the  black  robe  and  white  cross  fought  bravely  at 
the  taking  of  Ptolemais,  in  1191,  and  from  them 
this  strong  seaport  town,  which  they  held  for 
nearly  two  centuries,  derived  its  new  name  of  St. 
Jean  d'Acre. 

Siege  and  battle,  desert  march  and  hill  fights, 
had,  however,  now  thinned  the  black  mantles,  and 
more  men  had  to  be  sent  out  to  recruit  the  little 
army  of  muscular  Christians.  The  departure  of 
the  reinforcement  from  Clerkenwell  Priory  is 
thus  picturesquely  described  by  the  old  monkish 
chronicler,  Matthew  Paris: — "In  1237  the  Hos- 
pitallers sent  their  prior,  Theodoric,  a  German  by 
birth,  and  a  most  clever  knight,  with  a  body  of  other 
knights  and  stipendiary  attendants,  and  a  large  sum 
of  money,  to  the  assistance  of  the  Holy  Land.  They 
having  made  all  arrangements,  set  out  from  their 
house  at  Clerkenwell,  and  proceeded  in  good  order, 
with  about  thirty  shields  uncovered,  with  spears 
raised,  and  preceded  by  their  banner,  through  the 
midst  of  the  City,  towards  the  bridge,  that  they 
might  obtain  the  blessings  of  the  spectators,  and, 
bowing  their  heads  with  their  cowls  lowered,  com- 
mended themselves  to  the  prayers  of  all." 

"  It  is  said,"  says  one  writer,  "  that  on  the  , 
return  of  the  English  Crusaders  to  their  native 
country,  the  Knights  Hospitallers  and  Knights 
Templars,  on  the  3rd  of  October,  1247,  presented 
King  Henry  III.  with  a  beautiful  crystalline  vase, 
containing  a  portion  of  the  blood  of  our  Saviour 
that  he  had  shed  on  the  cross  for  the  salvation 
of  mankind,  the  genuineness  of  the  relic  being 
attested  by  the  seals  of  the  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem, 
and  the  archbishops,  bishops,  abbots,  and  other 
prelates  of  the  Holy  Land." 

In  1292,  at  the  desperate  siege  of  Acre,  the 
fighting  of  straight  Sword  against  sabre  was  so  hot, 


Clerkenwell.] 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN. 


3" 


and  such  were  the  falls  from  roof  and  battlement, 
that  only  seven  of  the  Syrian  detachment  escaped 
to  Cyprus.  In  1310  the  Hospitallers  conquered 
Rhodes  and  seven  other  islands  from  the  Infidel,  and 
commenced  privateering  against  all  Mohammedan 
vessels.  In  1344  these  stalwart  Christians  took 
Smyrna,  which  post  they  held  for  fifty-six  years,  till 
they  were  forced  out  of  the  stronghold  by  Tamer- 
lane. Rhodes  becoming  an  unbearable  thorn  in  the 
flesh  to  turbaned  mariners,  in  1444,  an  army  of 
18,000  Turks  besieged  the  island  for  forty  days, 
but  in  vain.  In  1492  Mahomet  II.  was  repulsed, 
after  a  siege  of  eighty-nine  days,  leaving  9,000 
shaven  Infidels  dead  around  the  ramparts.  In 
1502  cautious  Henry  VII.  of  England  was  chosen 
Protector  of  the  order,  and  promised  men  and 
money  against  the  scorners  of  Christianity,  but 
supplied  neither.  But  the  end  came  at  last;  in 
1522  Solyman  the  Magnificent  besieged  Rhodes 
with  300,000  men,  and  eventually,  after  a  stubborn 
four  months'  siege,  and  the  loss  of  80,000  men  by 
violence,  and  as  many  by  disease,  the  brave  grand 
master,  L'Isle  Adam,  after  his  honourable  capitula- 
tion, came  to  England  to  appeal  to  Henry  VIII., 
whose  fat,  greedy  hand  was  already  stretched  out 
towards  the  Clerkenwell  Priory.  The  order  had 
done  its  duty,  and  Henry  was  touched  by  the 
venerable  old  warrior's  appeal :  he  confirmed  the 
privileges  of  the  knights,  and  gave  L'Isle  Adam 
a  golden  basin  and  ewer,  set  with  jewels,  and 
artillery  to  the  value  of  20,000  crowns.  The  re- 
covery of  Rhodes  was  not,  however,  attempted  by 
the  Hospitallers,  as  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  ceded 
Malta  to  them  on  the  annual  payment  of  a  falcon 
to  the  reigning  King  of  Spain. 

The  generous  concessions  of  Henry  VIII.  lasted 
only  as  long  as  the  tyrant's  purse  was  fuU.  Having 
little  to  say  against  the  Clerkenwell  knights,  he 
suppressed  the  order  because  it  "maliciously  and 
traitorously  upheld  the  'Bishop  of  Rome'  to  be 
Supreme  Head  of  Christ's  Church,"  intending 
thereby  to  subvert  "  the  good  and  godly  laws  and. 
statues  of  this  realm."  William  Weston,  the  last 
prior,  and  other  officers  of  the  order,  were  bought 
oif  by  small  annuities.  Fuller  particularly  mentions 
that  the  Knights  Hospitallers,  "being  gentlemen 
and  soldiers  of  ancient  families  and  high  spirits," 
would  not  present  the  king  with  puling  petitions, 
but  stood  bravely  on  their  rights.  They  judged  it 
best,  however,  to  submit.  Some  of  the  knights 
retired  to  Malta.  Two  who  remained  were  be- 
headed as  traitors  to  King  Henry,  and  a  third  was 
hanged  and  quartered.  Queen  Mary  restored  the 
order  to  their  possessions,  but  EHzabeth  again 
drove  off  the  knights  to  Malta. 


"The  rules  and  privileges  of  the  order  of  the  \ 
Knights  of  St.  John,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "  were  as 
follows. .  Raymond  de  Pay  made  the  following  rules, 
which  were  confirmed  by  Pope  Boniface,  in  the 
sixth  year  of  his  pontificate : — Poverty,  chastity,  and 
obedience ;  to  expect  but  bread  and  water  and  a 
coarse  garment.  The  clerks  to  serve  in  white  sur- 
plices at  the  altar.  The  priests  in  their  surplices  to 
convey  the  Host  to  the  sick,  with  a  deacon  or  clerk 
preceding  them  bearing  a  lantern,  and  a  sponge 
filled  with  holy  water.  The  brethren  to  go  abroad 
by  the  appointment  of  the  master,  but  never  singly ; 
and,  to  avoid  giving  offence,  no  females  to  be  em- 
ployed for  or  about  their  persons.  When  soliciting 
alms,  to  visit  churches,  or  people  of  reputation, 
and  ask  their  food  for  charity ;  if  they  received 
none,  to  buy  enough  for  subsistence.  To  account 
for  all  their  receipts  to  the  master,  and  he  to  give 
them  to  the  poor,  retaining  only  one-third  part  for 
provisions,  the  overplus  to  the  poor.  The  brethren 
to  go  soliciting  only  by  permission,  to  carry  candles 
with  them,  to  wear  no  skins  of  wild  beasts,  or 
clothe^  degrading  to  the  order.  To  eat  but  twice 
a  day  on  Wednesday  and  Saturday,  and  no  flesh 
from  Septuagesima  until  Easter,  except  when  aged 
or  indisposed.  To  sleep  covered.  If  incontinent 
in  private,  to  repent  in  privacy,  and  do  penance. 
If  the  brother  was  discovered,  he  was  to  be  de- 
prived of  his  robe  in  the  church  of  the  town  after 
mass,  severely  whipped,  and  expelled  from  the 
order,  but  if  truly  penitent,  he  might  be  again  re- 
ceived, but  not  without  penance,  and  a  year's 
expulsion.  If  two  of  the  brethren  quarrelled,  they 
were  to  eat  only  bread  and  water  on  Wednesday 
and  Friday,  and  off  the  bare  ground  for  seven  days. 
If  blows  passed,  and  to  those  who  went  abroad 
without  permission,  this  discipline  was  extended  to 
forty  days.  No  conversation  when  eating,  or  after 
retiring  to  the  dormitory,  and  nothing  to  be  drunk 
after  the  ringing  of  the  conipline.  If  a  brother 
offended,  and  did  not  amend  after  the  third  admo- 
nition, he  was  compelled  to  walk  to  the  master  for 
correction.  No  brother  was  to  strike  a  servant. 
The  twenty-second  rule  of  this  monastic  code  was 
both' revolting  and  disgracefiil  to  any  community. 
It  ordered  that  if  a  brother  died  without  revealing 
what  he  possessed,  his  money  should  be  tied  about 
the  body's  neck,  and  it  was  to  be  severely  whipped  in 
the  presence  of  the  members  of  the  house.  ,  Masses 
were  sung  thirty  days  for  deceased  brethren  and  , 
alms  given  in  the  house.  In  all  decisions  they 
were  to  give  just  judgment.  They  sung  the  epistle 
and  gospel  on  Sundays,  made  a  procession,  and 
sprinkled  holy  water.  Ifa  brother  embezzled  money  ' 
appropriated  to  the  poor,  or  excited  opposition 


312 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[aerkenwelL 


to  the  master,  he  was  expelled.  When  a  brother's 
conduct  was  found  to  be  too  bad,  another  was 
to  reprove  him,  but  not  to  publish  his  faults. 
If  amendment  did  not  follow,  the  reprover  was  to 
call  the  assistance  of  others,  and  ultimately  report 
his  crimes  to  the  master  in  writing;  but  those 
accusations  were  to  be  supported  by  proof.  The 
brothers  were  universally  to  wear  the  cross  on  their 
breasts. 

"  The  order  was  that  of  St.  Augustine.     He  who 


man,  that  he  would  Hve  and  die  under  the  superior 
whom  God  should  place  over  him,  to  be  chaste 
and  poor,  and  a  servant  to  the  sick.  He  who  re- 
ceived the  new  brother  then  promised  him  bread 
and  water,  and  coarse  garments,  and  a  participa- 
tion in  all  the  good  works  of  the  order. 

"  Whoever  wished  to  be  received  into  the  brother- 
hood was  required  to  prove  his  nobility  for  four 
descents,  on  his  mother's  as  well  as  his  father's 
side  J  to  be  of  legitimate  birth  (an  exception  being 


THE  ORIGINAL  PRIORY  CHURCH  OF  ST.  JOHN,    CLERKENWELL. 


wished  for  admission  came  before  the  Chapter  on 
Sunday,  and  humbly  expressed  his  hope  that  he 
might  be  received.  If  no  objection  was  made,  a 
brother  informed  him  that  numbers  of  men  of  con- 
sequence had  preceded  him,  but  that  he  would  be 
entirely  deceived  in  supposing  that  he  should  live 
luxuriously ;  for  that  instead  of  sleeping  he  would 
be  required  to  wake,  and  fast  when  desirous  to  eat, 
to  visit  places  he  would  rather  have  avoided,  and, 
in  short,  have  no  will  of  his  own.  The  exordium 
concluded  with  a  demand  whether  he  was  will- 
ing to  do  these  things.  Upon  answering  in  the 
affirmative,  an  oath  was  administered,  by  which  he 
bound  himself  never  to  enter  any  other  order,  de- 
clared himself  a  bachelor  without  havihg  promised 
marriage,  that  he  was  free  fronj  debt)  and  a,  fr^e- 


made  only  in  favour  of  the  natural  sons  of  kings 
and  princes) ;  to  be  not  less  than  twenty  years  of 
age,  and  of  blameless  life  and  character. 

"  The  following  ceremonies  were  performed  at  the 
creation  of  a  knight : — '  i.  A  sword  was  given  to 
the  novice,  in  order  to  show  that  he  must  be 
valiant.  2.  A  cross  hilt,  as  his  valour  must  defend 
religion.  3.  He  was  struck  three  times  over  the 
shoulder  with  the  sword,  to  teach  him  patiently  to 
suffer  for  Christ.  4.  He  had  to  wipe  the  sword,  as 
his  life  must  be  undefiled.  5.  Gilt  spurs  were  put 
on,  because  he  was  to  spurn  wealth  at  his  heels. 

6.  He  took  a  taper  in  his  hand,  as  it  was  his  duty 
to   enlighten    others  by  his  exemplary  conduct. 

7.  He  had  to  go  and  hear  mass,  vfbere  wewill 
leave  him,' 


ClerkenwellJ 


THE  KNIGHTS  HOSPITALLERS. 


313 


"  In  the  season  of  its  prosperity  this  renowned 
order  included  in  its  fraternity  men  of  eight  dif- 
ferent nations,  of  which  the  English  were  the  sixth 
in  rank.  The  languages  were  those  of  Provence, 
Auvergne,  France,  Italy,  Arragon,  England,  and 
Germany.  The  Anglo-Bavarian  was  afterwards 
substituted  for  that  of  England,  and  that  of  Castile 
was  added  to  the  number.  Cowardice  on  the 
battle-field  involved  the  severest  of  all  penalties — 
degradation  and  expulsion  from  the  order.      We 


"  the  Langue  of  England,"  as  an  independent  cor- 
poration existing  under  the  royal  letters  patent  of 
Philip  and  Mary,  but  it  proved  hard  to  galvanise 
the  corpse  of  chivalry.  In  1831  Sir  Robert  Peat 
was  installed  into  the  office  of  grand  prior ;  and  in 
1834,  by  proceedings  in  the  Court  of  King's  Bench, 
the  corporation  of  the  sixth  Langue  was  formally 
revived.  Sir  Robert  Peat  was  succeeded  in  1837 
by  Sir  Henry  Dymoke,  seventeenth  hereditary 
champion  of  the  Crown ,  and  in  1847  the  Hon. 


COFFEE-ROOM   AT   ST     JOHN  S   GATE.      (See  page  318.) 


place  this  cross  on  your  breast,  my  brother,  says 
the  ritual  of  admission,  '  that  you  may  love  it  with 
all  your  heart;  and  may  your  right  hand  ever 
fight  in  its  defence  and  for  its  preservation.  Should 
it  ever  happen  that,  in  combating  against  the 
enemies  of  the  faith,  you  should  retreat  and  desert 
the  standard  of  the  cross,  and  take  flight,  you  will 
be  stripped  of  the  truly  holy  sigh,  according'  to  the 
customs  and  statutes  of  the  order,  and  you  will  be 
cut  ofif  from  our  body  as  an  unsound  and  corrupt 
member.'  A  knight,  when  degraded,  had  his  habit 
torn  from  off  him,  and  the  spurs  which  he  received 
at  his  investiture  were  hacked  oif." 

Between  the  years  1826   and  1831,    says   Mr, 
Pinks,  there  was  an  attempt  in  London  to  revive 
75^  Vol.  n. 


Sir  Charles  Montolieu  Lamb,  Bart.,  accepted  the 
office.  The  object  of  the  order  is  the  promotion 
of  charity,  and  the  knights  are  chiefly  Protestants. 
The  heads  of  the  order  at  Rome  still  refuse  to 
recognise  the  EngUsh  Langue  as  an  integral  branch 
of  the  ancient  order  of  St.  John, 

About  1278  the  knights  adopted  a  red  cassock, 
and  a  white  cross  as  their  military  dress,  reserving 
the  black  mantle  worn  in  imitation  of  the  Baptist's 
garment  in  the  wilderness  for  hospital  use.  Their 
standard  was  red,  with  a  white  cross.  The  Hos- 
pitallers' churches  were  all  sanctuaries,  and  lights 
were  kept  perpetually  burning  in  them.  The 
knights  had  the  right  of  burying  even  felons  who 
had  given  them  alms  during  life. 


314 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[Clerleenwdl. 


The  Hospitallers  had  also  the  privilege  of  ad- 
ministering the  sacrament  to  interdicted  persons, 
and  even  in  interdicted  towns ;  and  they  were  also 
allowed  to  bury  the  interdicted  in  the  churchyards 
of  any  of  their  comraanderies. 

The  order  began,  like  the  Templars,  in  poverty, 
and  ended  in  luxury  and  corruption.  The  governor 
was  entitled,  at  first,  "The  Servant  to  the  Poor  Ser- 
viteurs  of  the  Hospital  of  Jerusalem."  The  knights 
ended  by  growing  so  rich,  that  about  the  year  of 
our  Lord  1240,  says  Weever,  they  held  in  Chris- 
tendom 19,000  lordships  and  manors.  They  are 
known  to  have  lent  Edward  III.  money.  In  12 11 
Lady  Joan  Grey  of  Hampton,  left  her  manor  and 
manor-house  of  Hampton  (several  thousand  acres) 
to  the  Knights  Hospitallers  of  St.  John  of  Jeru- 
salem, an  estate  of  which  Cardinal  Wolsey  pro- 
cured a  lease  for  ninety-nine  years  from  Sir  Thomas 
Docwra,  the  last  prior,  who  lost  the  election  for  the 
grand  mastership  by  only  three  votes,  when  con- 
testing it  with  his  kinsman,  LTsle  Adam. 

Brave  as  the  Hospitallers  of  Clerkenwell  always 
remained,  they  soon,  we  fear,  grew  proud,  ava- 
ricious, and  selfish.  Edward  III.  had  to  reprove 
the  brotherhood  for  its  proud  insolence.  When 
Henry  III.  t*hreatened  to  take  away  their  charter, 
the  prior  told  him  that  a  king  who  was  unjust  did 
not  deserve  the  name  of  monarch.  In  1338  the 
English  prior,  Thomas  1' Archer,  raised  ;^i,ooo  by 
cutting  down  woods  round  all  the  commanderies  ; 
he  also  sold  leases  and  pensions  for  any  terms 
of  ready  money,  and  by  bribes  to  the  judges, 
he  procured  for  the  order  forfeited  lands  of  the 
Templars. 

'  Every  preceptory  of  the  Hospitallers  paid  its  own 
expenses,  except  that  of  Clerkenwell,  where  the 
grand  prior  resided,  and  had  many  pensioners  to 
support,  and  many  courtly  and  noble  guests  to  en- 
tertain. In  the  year  1337  this  priory  spent  more 
than  its  entire  revenue,  which  was  at  least  ^8,000. 

"The  consumption,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "of  the 
good  things  of  the  earth  in  the  preceptory  of 
Clerkenwell  by  the  brotherhood,  the  pensioners, 
guests,  and  servitors  was  enormous.  In  one  year, 
besides  fish  and  fowl  from  its  demesnes,  it  ex- 
pended 430  quarters  of  wheat,  413  quarters  of 
barley,  60  quarters  of  mixed  com  (draget),  225 
quarters  of  oats  for  brewing,  300  quarters  of  oats 
for  horse-feed.  They  used  eight  quarters  of  oats 
and  four  quarters  of  peas  for  pottage,  and  laid 
out '  in  expensis  coquince  (in  the  expenses  of  the 
kitchen)  ;^i2i  6s.  8d.  The  next  item  shows  that 
in  the  midst  of  all  their  excesses  they  had  not 
forgotten  to  be  hospitable.  '  For  twerfty  quarters 
of  beans  distributed  among  the  poor  on  St.  John 


the  Baptist's  Day,  according  to  custom,  at  3s.  per 
quarter,  60s.' " 

The  prior  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem  ranked  as 
the  first  baron  of  England,  "  a  kind  of  otter,"  says 
Selden,  "  a  knight  half-spiritual,  half-temporal."  His 
proud  motto  was  "  Sane  Baro" — a  baron  indeed. 

Sir  William  Weston,  the  last  prior  but  one  of 
St.  John,  distinguished  himself  during  the  siege 
of  Rhodes.  His  father's  two  brothers  were  also 
knights  of  the  order,  and  one  of  them  had  been 
Lord  Prior  of  England  and  General  of  the  Galleys. 
At  the  dissolution  King  Henry  awarded  Sir  William 
a  pension  of  ;^i,ooo  a  year ;  but  the  suppression 
of  the  order  in  England  broke  his  brave  heart  soon 
after.  Sir  Thomas  Tresham,  the  last  prior,  died  a 
year  or  two  after  his  investiture.  A  Sir  William 
Tresham  was  residing  at  Clerkenwell  Green  in 
16 1 9.  He  was  of  the  same  family  as  Sir  Francis 
Tresham,  whose  mysterious  letter  to  his  friend 
Lord  Monteagle  led  to  the  fortunate  discovery  of 
the  Gunpowder  Plot.  It  will  not  be  forgotten  by 
our  readers  that  a  Protestant  band  of  the  Knights 
Hospitallers  still  exists  in  Prussia,  rich  and  numerous. 

The  Priory  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  at  Clerk- 
enwell, was  founded  by  Lord  Jordan  Briset,  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  I.  He  founded  also  the  Nuns' 
house  at  Clerkenwell.  In  11 85  the  church  was 
consecrated  by  Heraclius,  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem. 
In  the  reign  of  Edward  I.  further  additions  were 
made  to  the  priory ;  the  preceptory  was  burned  by 
Wat  Tyler's  rabble,  and  it  was  not  till  1504  that 
the  hospital  was  restored  to  its  full  grandeur,  and 
the  grand  south  gate  erected  by  Sir  Thomas 
Docwra.  Camden  says  of  the  second  building, 
admiringly,  that  it  resembled  a  palace,  and  had  in 
it  a  very  fair  church,  and  a  tower-steeple  raised 
to  a  great  height,  with  so  fine  workmanship  that 
it  was  a  singular  beauty  and  ornament  to  the 
city. 

At  the  dissolution  Henry  VIII.  gave  the  priory 
church  to  John  Dudley,  Viscount  Lisle,  Lord  High 
Admiral  of  England  for  ^^1,000  ;  and  the  church 
and  priory  were  used  by  that  bloated  Ahab,  Henry, 
as  a  storehouse  for  his  toils  and  hunting-tents. 
Edward  VI.,  as  careless  of  confiscating  sacred 
things  as  his  tyrannical  father,  gave  away  the 
remaining  land. 

"  But  in  the  third  year  of  Edward  VI.,"  says 
Stow,  "  the  church  for  the  most  part,  to  wit,  the 
body  and  side  aisles,  with  the  great  bell-tower  (a 
most  curious  piece  of  workmanship,  graven,  gilt, 
and  inameled,  to  the  great  beautifying  of  the  city, 
and  passing  all  other  that  I  have  seen),  was  under^ 
mined  and  blown  up  with  gunpowder;  the  stone 
thereof  was  employed   in  building  of  the   Lord 


ClericenwellJ 


THE  PRIORY  OF  CLERKENWELL. 


315 


Protector's  house  in  the  Strand  (old  Somerset 
House)." 

The  curse  of  sacrilege,  in  Spelman's  opinion, 
fell  on  the  Protector.  He  never  finished  his 
Strand  house,  nor  did  his  son  inherit  it,  and  he 
himself  perished  on  the  scaffold.  The  stones  of 
St.  John's  Priory  went  to  build  the  porch  of  the 
church  of  Allhallows,  in  Gracechurch  Street.  The 
choir,  in  Fuller's  time,  was  in  "  a  pitiftil  plight," 
the  walls  having  been  shattered  by  the  Protector's 
gunpowder. 

On  Mary's  succession,  Cardinal  Pole,  on  the 
revival  of  the  order,  built  a  west  front  to  the  priory 
church,  and  repaired  the  side  chapels.  We  find 
on  the  day  of  the  decollation  of  St.  John  the 
Baptist,  that  the  Merchant  Taylors  came  to  cele- 
brate mass  at  the  priory  church,  when  the  choir 
was  hung  with  arras,  and  every  one  made  offerings 
at  the  altar. 

Many  remarkable  historical  scenes  took  place  at 
the  priory  of  Clerkenwell.  One  of  the  most  re- 
markable of  these  was  the  aulic  council  held  by 
Henry  II.  and  his  barons,  when  the  patriarch 
Heraclius  and  the  grand  master  of  the  Hospitallers, 
came  to  England  to  urge  Henry  to  a  new  crusacje. 
Heraclius  brought  with  him  the  keys  of  David's 
Tower  and  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  an  offer  of  the 
crown  of  Jerusalem.  When  the  barons-  agreed 
that  the  king  should  not  lead  the  crusaders  in 
person,  the  patriarch  flew  into  an  inappeasable 
rage.  "Here  is  my  head,"  he  cried;  "here  is 
my  head;  treat  me,  if  you  like,  as  you  did  my 
brother  Thomas  (meaning  A'Becket).  It  is  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  me  whether  I  die  by 
your  orders  or  in  Syria  by  the  hands  of  the 
infidels ;  for  you  are  worse  than  a  Saracen."  The 
master  of  the  Hospitallers  was  extremely  hurt  at 
the  behaviour  of  the  patriarch  Heraclius,  but  the 
king  took  no  notice  of  his  insolence. 

In  121 2  King  John,  that  dark  and  malign 
usurper,  spent  a  whole  month  at  the  Priory  of  St. 
John,  feasted  by  the  prior,  and  on  Easter  Sunday, 
at  table,  he  knighted  Alexander,  the  son  of  the 
King  of  Scotland,  a  ceremony  which  cost  young 
Sandy  ^14  4s.  8d.  In  1265  Prince  Edward  and 
his  loving  wife,  Eleanor  of  Castile,  were  entertained 
here.  The  prince  had  married  his  wife  when  she 
was  only  ten  years  of  age,  and  on  claiming  her, 
at  twenty,  came  to  St.  John's  Priory  for  their 
honeymoon.  In  1399  we  find  Henry  IV.,  not  yet 
crowned,  coming  down  Chepe  to  St.  Paul's,  and, 
after  lodging  with  the  bishop  for  five  or  six  days, 
staying  a  fortnight  at  the  priory.  In  141 3  King 
Henry  V.,  that  chivalrous  king,  says  the  Grey 
Friars'  chronicler,  was  "  lyvinge  at  Sent  Jones." 


In  the  year  1485  a  royal  council  was  held  at 
St.  John's.  Public  indignation  was  aroused  by  a 
well-founded  rumour  of  the  intended  espousal  by 
Richard  III.  of  Elizabeth  of  York,  his  niece,  his 
queen,  Anne,  being  then  lately  dead.  "  Richard, 
perceiving  the  pubHc  disgust,  gave  up  the  idea  of 
marrying  Ehzabeth,  and  immediately  after  the 
funeral  of  his  wife  was  over,  called  a  meeting 
of  the  civic  authorities  in  the  great  hall  of  St. 
John's,  Clerkenwell,  just  before  Easter,  and  in  their 
presence  distinctly  disavowed  any  intention  of 
espousing  his  niece,  and  fofbade  the  circulation  of 
the  report,  as  false  and  scandalous  in  a  high 
degree."  The  chronicler  relates  that  a  convocation 
of  twelve  doctors  of  divinity  had  sat  on  a  case  of 
marriage  of  uncle  and  niece,  and  declared  that 
the  kindred  was  too  near  for  the  Pope's  bull  to 
sanction. 

The  Princess  Mary  lived  at  the  priory  in  much 
pomp,  sometimes  visiting  her  brother,  Edward  VI., 
in  great  state.  Machyn,  in  his  curious  diary,  de- 
scribes her  riding  from  St.  John's  to  Westminster, 
attended  by  Catholic  lords,  knights,  and  gentle- 
men, in  coats  of  velvet  and  chains  of  gold,  and 
on  another  day  returning  to  St.  John's,  followed 
by  fourscore  Catholic  gentlemen  and  ladies,  each 
with  an  ostentatious  pair  of  black  beads,  "  to  make 
a  profession  of  their  devotion  to  the  mass.''  In 
1540  ten  newly-made  serjeants-at-law  gave  a  great 
banquet  at  St.  John's,  to  all  the  Lords  and  Com- 
mons, and  the  mayor  and  aldermen.  Rings  were 
given  to  the  guests,  and,  according  to  Stow,  at  one 
of  these  feasts,  in  1531,  thirty-four  great  beeves 
were  consumed,  besides  thirty-seven  dozen  pigeons 
and  fourteen  dozen  swans. 

In  Elizabeth's  reign,  when  sacred  things  were 
roughly  handled,  Tylney,  the  queen's  Master  of 
the  Revels,  resided  at  St.  John's,  with  all  his 
tailors,  embroiderers,  painters,  and  carpenters,  and 
all  artificers  required  to  arrange  court  plays  and 
masques.  In  this  reign  Master  Tylney  licensed 
all  plays,  regulated  the  stage  for  thirty-one  years, 
and  passed  no  less  than  thirty  of  Shakespeare's 
dramas,  commencing  with  Henry  IV.  and  ending 
with  Anthony  and  Cleopatra,  he  might  have  told 
us  one  or  two  things  about  the  "great  unknown," 
but  he  died  in  1610,  and  left  no  diary  or  auto- 
biography. The  court  revels  were  all  rehearsed 
in  the  great  hall  at  St.  John's.  In  16 12  James  I. 
gave  the  priory  to  Lord  Aubigny,  and  the  Revels 
Office  was  removed  to  St.  Peter's  Hill.  The  house 
afterwards  came  into  the  possession  of  Sir  William 
Cecil,  grandson  of  the  famous  Lord  Treasurer 
Burleigh.  The  repaired  choir  was  reopened  in 
1623,  by  Dr.  Joseph  Hall,  afterwards   Bishop  of 


3i6 


OLD  AND  NE;V  LONDON. 


[Clerkenwell, 


Exeter  and  Norwich.  In  the, reign  of  Charles  I. 
the  church  served  as  private  chapel  to  the  Earl 
of  Elgin,  who  occupied  the'  house,  and  it,  was 
called  Aylesbury  Chapel.  It  became  a  Presbyterian 
meeting-house  till  1710. 

During  the  absurd  Sacheverell  riots,  when  a 
High  Church  mob  turned  out  to  destroy  Dissent- 
ing chapels,  St.  John's  Chapel  happening  to  be 
near  the  house  of  the  obnoxious  Bishop  Burnet, 
the  fanatics  gutted  the  building,  and  burnt  the 
pews,  &c.,  before  Burnet's  door.  Sacheverell  was  a 
High  Church  clergyman,  who,  in  a  public  sermon  at 
St.  Paul's,  had  proclaimed  the  doctrine  of  passive 
obedience,  and  was,  in  consequence,  sent  for  trial 
to  Westminster  Hall,  where  the  Tories  triumphantly 
acquitted  him.  The  chapel  was  enlarged  in  17  21, 
and  in  1723  was  bought  for  ;£^3,ooo  by  the  com- 
missioners for  building  fifty  new  churches. 

In  the  present  church,  which  was  restored  and 
improved  by  Mr.  Griffith,  in  1845,  one  of  the  large 
painted  windows  at  the  east  end  remains  in  its 
old  state.  In  the  south  and  east  walls  are  remains 
of  Prior  Docwra's  perpendicular  work,  and  the 
pews  stand  upon  capitals  and  rib  mouldings  of 
the  former  church.  There  are  some  few  traces  of 
early  English  architecture.  An  old  gabled  wooden 
building  near  the  south  side  of  the  church,  as 
seen  in  Hollar's  view  of  the  priory  (1661),  is  still 
standing,  says  Mr.  Pinks,  and  is  occupied  by  St. 
John's  Sunday  Schools.  Stones  of  the  old  church 
were  discovered  in  1862,.  forming  sides  of  the 
main  sewer  through  St.  John's  Square.  The  arms 
of  Prior  Botyler  (1439-1469),  a  chevron  between 
three  combs,  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  central  east 
window.  The  head  of  the  beadle's  staff,  a  Knight 
Hospitaller  in  silver,  was  in  use  in  the  time  of 
James  II.,  and  belonged  to  the  old  church  of  St. 
James.  The  portable  baptismal  bowl  is  antique, 
and  once  supplied  the  place  of  a  font.  Lang- 
home,  the  poet,  was  curate  and  lecturer  at  St. 
John's,  Clerkenwell,  in  1764.  He  defended  the 
Scotch  against  Churchill's  satire,  and  helped  his 
brother  to  translate  Plutarch's  "Lives."  A  poem 
of  Langhorne's  moved  Bums  to  tears,  the  only 
night  Sir  Walter  Scott,  then  a  child,  ever  saw 
him. 

In  the  vaults  of  this  church  the  celebrated 
"Cock  Lane  Ghost"  promised  to  manifest  itself 
to  credulous  Dr.  Johnson  and  others.  The  great 
bibHopole  and  his  friends  were  thus  ridiculed  by 
Churchill  for  their  visit  to  St.  John's  : — 

"  Through  the  dull  deep  sun-ounding  gloom, 
In  close  array,  t'wards  Fanny's  tomb 
Adventured  forth  ;  Caution  before,  " 
With  heedful  step,  a  lanthorn  bore, 


Pointing  at  graves  ;  and  in  the  rear. 
Trembling  and  talking  loud,  went  Fear. 

*  *  *  *  # 

At  length  they  reach  the  place  of  death. 
A  vault  it  was,  long  time  appl/d 
To  hold  the  last  remains  of  pride. 

Hi  *  *  *  * 

Thrice  each  the  pond'rous  key  apply'd, 
And  thrice  to  turn  it  vainly  try'd, 
'Till,  taught  by  Prudence  to  unite. 
And  straining  with  collected  might, 
The  stubborn  wards  resist  no  more, 
But  open  flies  the  growling  door. 
Three  paces  back  they  fell,  amazed, 
Like  statues  stood,  like  madmen  gazed. 

***** 
How  would  the  wicked  ones  rejoice, 
And  infidels  exalt  their  voice, 

If  M e  and  Plausible  were  found, 

By  shadows  aw'd,  to  quit  their  ground  ? 
How  would  fools  laugh  should  it  appear 
Pomposo  was  the  slave  of  fear? 

Silent  all  three  went  in ;  about 

All  three  turn' d. silent,  and  came  out." 

The  church  is,  in  fact,  chiefly  remarkable  for  its 
crypt,  the  descent  to  which  is  at  the  north-east 
angle,  under  the  vestry.  It  seems  originally,  by 
Hollar's  view  of  the  east  end  of  the  church,  in 
1661,  to  have  been  then  above  ground.  Though 
700  years  old,  the  crypt  of  St.  John's  is  in  good 
preservation.  The  chief  portion  consists  of  four 
bays,  two  semi- Norman  and  two  early  EngUsh,  the 
ribs  of  the  latter  bays  springing  from  triple  clus- 
tered columns,  with  moulded  capitals  and  bases. 
From  each  keystone  hangs  an  iron  ring.  On  each 
side  of  the  two  western  bays  are  pointed  window 
openings,  now  blocked  up.  The  central  avenue 
of  the  crypt  is  sixteen  feet  wide,  and  twelve  feet 
high,  and  there  are  corresponding  side-aisles.  At 
the  entrance  of  the  vault  is  a  place  where  the  gar- 
dener used  to  keep  his  tools,  and  where,  for  many 
years,  stood  a  coffin  said  to  have  been  arrested  for 
debt.  The  coffins  used  to  stand  in  rows,  four  or 
five  deep,  covered  with  dust,  and  shreds  of  black 
cloth.  The  ends  of  some  had  fallen  out,  and  the 
bony  feet  had  protruded.  In  1800  a  committee  of 
gentlemen  reporting  on  repairs  found  a  sheet  of 
cobweb  hanging  from  the  upper  coffins  ten  to  fifteen 
feet  long,  and  in  parts  nearly  as  broad.  In  1862 
the  coffins  were  piled  lip  in  the  aisles,  that  of 
"  Scratching  Fanny,"  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost,  among 
them,  and  all  the  side  passages  bricked  up. 

Many  years  ago  workmen  making  a  sewer  be- 
neath the  square,  nearly  in  a  line  with  Jerusalem 
Passage,  came  on  a  chalk  and  flint  wall  seven  feet 
thick,  and  Mr.  Cromwell  decided  that  this  was  part 
of  the  foundation  of  the  stately  tower  described  by 
Stow.     It  is   supposed  that   the   church  was  300 


ClericenwcU.] 


ST.  JOHN'S  GATE,  CLERKENWELL. 


317 


feet  long,  and  that  its  transepts  stood  in  a  direct 
line  with  St.  John's  Gate.  The  enclosure  walls, can 
still  partially  be  traced,  and  the  modem  buildings 
in  St  John's  Square,  says  Mr.  Griffiths,  are  mostly 
built  on  the  old  rubble  walls  of  the  hospital.  The 
foundations  of  the  cellars  under  No.  19,  and  the 
basements  of  Nos.  21  and  22  on  the  north  side  of 
St.  John's  Square,  formed  the  foundations  of  the 
old  priory  walls.  Between  No.  19  and  No.  20  a 
wall  was  found  seven  feet  thick :  some  of  the  stones 
had  been  used  for  windows,  and  showed  the  action 
of  fire.  The  north  postern  of  the  priory  was  taken 
down  in  1780  :  here  were  then  sixty-seven  feet  of 
old  wall  westward  of  St.  John's  Gate.  There  were 
also  remains  of  the  priory  in  Ledbury  Place,  which 
formed  the  west  garden-wall  of  Bishop  Burnet's 
house,  and  also  in  the  west  garden-wall  of  Dr. 
Adam  Clarke's  house,  which  adjoined  Burnet's 
house. 

That  fine  specimen  of  Sir  Thomas  Docwra's 
perpendicular,  St.  John's  Gate,  is  built  of  brick 
and  freestone.  The  walls  are  about  three  feet 
thick,  and  are  built  of  brick,  faced  with  Rye- 
gate  stone,  the  same  as  used  for  Henry  VII. 's 
Chapel.  The  famous  gate  and  its  flanking  towers, 
formerly  'much  higher  than  they  are  now  since 
the  soil  has  risen  around  them,  are  pierced  with 
numerous  windows,  the  principal  one  being  a  wide 
Tudor  arch,  with  three  muUions  and  many  coats  of 
arms.  Beneath  this  window  are  several  shields,  set 
in  Gothic  niches.  In  the  centre  are  the  arms  of 
France  and  England,  surmounted  by  a  crown ;  on 
each  side  are  the  arms  of  the  priory.  Outside 
these  are  two  shields,  one  bearing  the  founders' 
arms  impaling  the  arms  of  England,  the  other 
emblazoning  the  insignia  of  Sir  Thomas  Docwra. 
Underneath  these  last  shields  were  formerly  the 
initials  "T.  D.,"  separated  by  a  Maltese  cross  and 
the  word  "  Prior."  On  the  north  side  of  the  gate, 
facing  the  square,  are  three  other  shields,  and,  in 
low  relief,  the  words  "  Ano.-Dni.,  1504." 

The  entrance  to  the  west  tower,  says  Mr.  Pinks, 
from  the  north  side  of  the  gate,  now  no  longer 
used,  once  led  to  a  staircase,  the  entrance  to  Cave's 
printing-office.  The  carvings  on  the  spandrils  of 
the  doorcase,  now  decayed,  are  described  in  1788 
as  representing  a  hawk  and  a  cock,  a  hen  and 
a  lion,  supporting  the  shield  of  the  priory,  and  that 
of  Sir  Thomas  Docwra.  The  old  stone  floor  is 
three  feet  below  the  present  surface.  The  round 
tower  internally  contains  remains  of  the  old  well 
staircase  (half  stone,  half  oak)  which  led  to  the 
top  of  the  gateway.  The  upper  part  was  ma;de  of 
blocks  of  oak  six  -inches  thick.  The  east  tower 
had  probably  a  similar  staircase.     The  stone  stair- 


case in  the  north-west  tower  was  removed  in  1814. 
The  entrance  to  the  east  tower,  on  the  north  side 
the  gate,  has  been  long  ago  blocked  up. 

In  1 66 1  Hollar  draws  the  gate  as  blocked  up 
with  a  wooden  structure,  beneath  which  were  two 
distinct  passages.  This  was  removed  in  1771. 
The  roof  of  the  now  dwarfed  archway  is,  says  an 
able  historian  of  Clerkenwell,  "  a  beautiful  example 
of  ]the  groining  of  the  fifteenth  century,,  adorned 
with  shields,  bosses,  and  moulded  ribs,  springing 
from  angular  columns  with  moulded  capitals.''  On 
the  keystone  is  carved  the  paschal  lamb,  kneeling 
on  a  clasped  copy  of  the  Gospels,  and  supporting  a 
flag.  In  a  line  with  the  lamb  are  coloured  shields 
of  the  priory,  and  of  Docwra. 

On  the  east  side  of  the  archway  Mr.  Foster,  the 
keeper  of  the  "  Jerusalem"  Tavern,  and  a  great 
lover  of  ancient  architecture,  placed  a  large  oil- 
painting,  by  Mr.  John  Wright,  representing  the 
Knights  of  St.  John  starting  for  a  joust.  For  the 
"  Jerusalem"  Tavern,  on  the  east  basement,  a  south 
side-entrance  was  ruthlessly  cut  through  the  angle  of 
the  projecting  gate-tower.. 

The  basement  on  the  west  side  was,  in  1813, 
converted  into  a  watch-house,  and  was  afterwards 
turned  into  a  dispensary  hospital  by  the  modern 
Knights  of  St.  John,  which  in  its  first  year  bene- 
fited 2,062  persons.  It  then  became  a  coal-shed, 
and  after  that  a  book-store.  In  many  of  the 
gate-house  rooms  there  are  still  oak -panelled 
ceilings.  The  "  grand  hall,"  the  memorable  room 
over  the  arch,'  is  approached  by  an  Elizabethan 
staircase,  and  in  the  hall  are  two  dull  figures  in 
armour,  supposed,  by  courtesy,  to  represent  Prior 
Weston  and  Prior  Docwra ;  and  a  handsome  bust 
of  Mr.  Till,  the  numismatist,  adorns  the  mantel- 
piece. It  was  this  Mr.  Till  who  cast  from  old 
Greek  and  Roman  coins  the  bronze  armorial  bear- 
ings of  the  priory  and  of  Docwra,  which  adorn  the 
parlour  and  hall. 

It  was  here  Dr.  Johnson  toiled  for  Cave,  the 
editor  of  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  and  here 
Garrick  made  his  first  theatrical  debM  in  London. 

Between  1737 — 1741,  says  Mr.  Percy  Fitzgerald, 
in  his  "  Life  of  Garrick,"  Garrick's  friend  Johnson 
— "now  working  out  a  miserable  ' per-sheetage ' 
from  the  very  humblest  hack-work,  and  almost 
depending  for  his  crust  on  some  little  article  that 
he  could  now  and  again  get  into  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine — was  by  this  time  intimate  with  Mr.  Cave, 
of  St.  John's  Gate,  the  publisher  of  that  journal. 
Johnson  mentioned  his  companion,  and  speaking  of 
his  gay  dramatic  talents,  inspired  this  plain  and 
practical  bookseller  with  some  curiosity,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  an  amateur  perforrijance  should  take 


3i8 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Clerkenwell. 


place  in  a  room  over  the  archway,  with  Mr.  Garrick 
in  a  leading  comic  character.  It  was  duly  arranged ; 
the  piece  fixed  on  was  Fielding's  Mock  Doctor. 
Several  of  the  printers  were  called  in,  parts  were 
given  to  them  to  read,  and  there  is  an  epilogue 
to  the  Mock  Doctor,  by  Garrick,  which,  as  it  was 


The  delightful  traditions  that  encrust,  as  with 
many-coloured  lichens,  the  old  gate,  cluster  thickest 
around  the  old  room  over  the  arch,  for  there 
Johnson,  Garrick,  and  Goldsmith  spent  many 
pleasant  hours,  and  it  is  good  to  sit  there  among 
the  club,  and  muse  over  the  great  men's  memories. 


ST.   JOHN'S   GATE,    CLERKENWELL. 


inserted  shortly  afterwards  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  would  seem  to  have  been  spoken  on  this 
occasion.  This  shows  how  absorbing  was  his  taste 
for  the  stage,  sure  to  break  out  when  there  was  the 
slightest  promise  of  an  opening.  The  performance 
gave  great  amusement,  and  satisfied  the  sober 
Cave ;  and  presently,  perhaps  as  a  mark  of  the 
publisher's  satisfaction,  some  of  Mr.  Garrick's  short 
love  verses  were  admitted  into  the  poetical  depart- 
ment of  the  magazine." 


In  the  coffee-room  on  the  basement  floor  is  an 
old-fashioned  wide  wooden  chair,  which,  tradition 
asserts,  was  the  favourite  chair  of  Dr.  Johnson.  On 
the  top  r^l  is  boldly  painted  the  date  of  the  doctor's 
birth  and  death.  The  chair  was,  however,  it  is 
hinted,  merely  an  old  chair  found  in  an  upper 
room  by  Mr.  Benjamin  Foster,  when  he  took  the 
tavern,  and  labelled  "  Dr.  Johnson's,"  as  an  attrac- 
tion to  the  gullible  public.  The  stone  Tudor 
mantelpiece  in  the  coffee-room  is  an  old  one  dis- 


Clerkenwell.] 


THE   "JERUSALEM"  TAVERN. 


319 


covered  on  the  pulling  down  of  a  modem  fireplace. 
In  the  wall  (three  feet  four  inches  thick)  in  the 
side  of  this  fireplace  was  found  the  entrance  to  a 
secret  passage  opening  at  the  archway  of  the 
gate.  It  is  doubtful  whether  this  tavern  was  opened 
before  or  after  Cave's  death,  but  it  is  supposed 


;^io8,  the  Society  of  Antiquaries  refusing  to  assist. 
The  original  gate  was  no  doubt  burned  by  Wat 
Tyler's  men,  but  Mr.  Griffith,  F.S.A.,  during  these 
restorations,  discovered  a  fragment  of  the  first  gate, 
carved  with  scallop-shells  and  foliage,  in  a  ceiling 
in  Berkeley  Street,  Clerkenwell,  on  the  site  of  the 


HICKS'S   HALL.      {Aioui  1750.) 


that  it  was  first  called  the  "Jerusalem"  Tavern; 
this  name  being  assumed  fi-om  the  "Jerusalem" 
Tavern  in  Red  Lion  Street.  In  1845  the  terms 
of  the  Metropolitan  Building  Act  compelled  the 
parish  to  see  to  the  gate,  when  the  Freemasons  of 
the  Church,  a  useful  architectural  society,  at  once 
generously  undertook  its  restoration,  and  saved  it 
from  being  daubed  up  with  cement.  The  upper 
portions  of  the  towers  were  then  re-cased  with  rough 
stone,  the  windows  new  mullioned,  at  a  cost  of 


residence  of  Sir  Maurice  Berkeley,  standard-bearer 
to  Henry  VIII.,  Edward  VI.,  and  EUzabeth.  He 
also,  in  1855,  discovered  near  the  gate  a  stone  boss, 
sculptured  with  foliage,  and  a  carved  stone  window- 
head,  from  the  old  priory,  with  the  priory  arms 
in  the  spandril  of  the  arch.  Both  interesting 
fragments  are  preserved  at  the  South  Kensing- 
ton Museum.  In  the  reign  of  James  I.  this  great 
south  gate  was  given  to  Sir  Roger  Wilbraham,  who 
resided  here. 


320 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Qerkenwell. 


In  1731  the  gate  became  dignified  by  its  con- 
nection with  literature.  Cave,  the  printer,  careful, 
shrewd,  and  industrious,  set  up  his  presses  in  the 
hall  over  the  gateway,  and  started  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  January,  1731,  displaying  the  gate  in  a 
rude  woodcut  on  the  exterior  of  the  periodical,  and 
very  soon  drew  public  attention  to  his  magazine. 

With  St.  John's  Gate   is   connected  Dr.  John- 
son's first  struggles  towards  the  daylight.     Here, 
after  hungry  walks  with  Savage  round  St.  James's 
Square,  and  long  controversies  in  Grub  Street  cook- 
shops,  he  came  to  toil  for  Cave,  who  employed 
him  to  edit  the  contributions,  and  to  translate  from 
Latin,  French,  and  Italian.     About  the  year  1738 
he  produced  his  "  London,"  a  grand  imitation  of  the 
third  satire  of  Juvenal.    In  1740,  like  a  loyal  vassal 
of  his  editor,  Johnson  gratified  an  insatiable  public 
curiosity,  by  giving  himself  a  monthly  sketch  of  the 
debates  in  both  Houses  of  Parliament,  a  scheme 
projected   by  a  man   named    Guthrie.      "  These 
productions    were    characterised    by    remarkable 
vigour,  for  they  were  written  at  those  seasons,  says 
Hawkins,   when  Johnson  was   able    to   raise  his 
imagination  to  such  a  pitch  of  fervour  as  bordered 
upon    enthusiasm.      We   can   almost  picture   the 
doctor  in  his  lone  room  in  the  gate,  declaiming 
aloud  on  some  public  grievance.     For  the  session 
of  1740-41    he   undertook   to   write   the   debates 
entirely  himself,  and  did  so  for  the  whole  of  three 
sessions.     He  began  with  a  debate  in  the  House 
of  Commons  on  the  bill  for  prqjiibiting  exportation 
of  corn,  on  the  19th  November,  1740,  and  ended 
with  one  in  the  Lords,  on  the  bill  for  restraining 
the  sale  of  spirituous  liquors,  on  the  23rd  February, 
1742-3.    Such  was  the  goodness  of  Johnson's  heart, 
that  a  few  days  before  his  death  he  solemnly  de- 
clared to  Mr.  Nichols,  whom  he  had  requested  to 
visit  him,  "  that  the  only  part  of  his  writings  which 
then  gave  him  any  compunction  was  his  account  of 
the  debates  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  but  that  at 
the  time  he  wrote  them  he  did  not  think  he  was 
imposing  on  the  world.     The  mode  of  preparing 
them  which  he  adopted,  he  said,  was  to  fix  upon 
a  speaker's  name,  then  to  make  an  argument  for 
him,  and  to  conjure  up  an  answer."     He  wrote 
these  debates  with  more  velocity  than  any  of  his 
other  productions ;  he  sometimes  produced  three 
columns  of  the   magazine  within   an   hour.     He 
once  wrote  ten  pages  in  one  day,  and  that  not  a 
long  one,  beginning,  perhaps,  at  noon,  and  end- 
ing early  in  the  evening.     Of  the  "  Life  of  Savage" 
he  wrote  forty-eight  octavo  pages  in  one  day,  but 
that  day  included  the  night,  for  he  sat  up  all  night 
to  do  it. 

"The  memoranda  for  the  debates,"  continues 


Mr.  Pinks,  "which  were  pubHshed  in  the   Gentle- 
man's   Magazine    were     obtained    sometimes    by 
stealth,  and  at  others  from  members  of  the  House 
who  were  favourable  to  their  publication,  aud  who 
furnished  Cave  with  notes  of  what  they  had  them- 
selves said  or  heard,  through  the  medium  of  the 
post,  and  frequently  by  vivd,  voce  communication. 
Cave,  when  examined  at  the  bar  of  the  House  of 
Lords  on  the  charge  of  printing  an  account  of  the 
trial  of  Lord  Lovat,  in  1747,  being  asked,  says 
Nichols,  in  his  '  Literary  Anecdotes,'  how  he  came 
by  the  speeches  which  he  printed  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  replied  that  he  got  into  the  House  and 
heard   them,  and  made  use  of  black-lead  pencil, 
and  took  notes  of  only  some  remarkable  passages, 
and  from  his  memory  he  put  them  together  him- 
self.     He  also  observed'  that  sometimes  he  had 
speeches  sent  him  by  very  eminent  persons,  as  well 
as  from  the  members  themselves." 

When  working  for  Cave,  at  St.  John's  Gate, 
Johnson  was  still  dependent.  "  We  are  told," 
remarks  Mr.  Pinks,'  "  by  Boswell  that  soon  after 
his  '  Life  of  Richard  Savage'  was  anonymously 
published,  Walter  Harte,  author  of  the  'Life  of 
Gustavus  Adolphus,'  dined  with  Cave  at  the  gate, 
and  in  the  course  of  conversation  highly  com- 
mended Johnson's  book.  Soon  after  this  Cave 
met  him,  and  told  him  that  he  had  made  a  man 
very  happy  the  other  day  at  his  (Cave's)  house. 
'  How  could  that  be  ? '  said  Harte  ;  '  nobody 
was  there  but  ourselves.'  Cave  answered  by  re- 
minding him  that  a  plate  of  victuals  had  been  sent 
behind  a  screen  at  the  dinner-time,  and  informed 
him  that  Johnson,  who  was  dressed  so  shabbily 
that  he  did  not  choose  to  appear,  had  emptied  that 
plate,  and  had  heard  with  great  delight  Harte's 
encomiums  on  his  book. 

"From  that  spoilt  child  of  genius,  Richard  Savage, 
Cave  had  many  communications  before  he  knew 
Johnson.  The  misfortunes  and  misconduct  of  this 
darling  of  the  Muses  reduced  him  to  the  lowest 
state  of  wretchedness  as  a  writer  for  bread ;  and  his  . 
occasional  visits  to  St.  John's  Gate  brought  him 
and  Johnson  together,  poverty  and  genius  making 
them  akin. 

"  The  amiable  and  accomplished  authoress,  Mrs. 
Elizabeth  Carter,  whom  Johnson,  from  an  appre- 
ciation of  her  talents,  highly  esteemed,  and  who 
was  a  frequent  contributor  to  the  Magazine,  under 
the  name  of  Eliza,  during  the  interval  of  her 
occasional  visits  to  London,"  lodged  at  St.  John's 
Gate.  Hither  also  came  Richard  Lauder,  Milton's 
detractor ;  Dr.  Hawkesworth,  the  author  of  '  Beli- 
sarius ; '  and  a  shoal  of  the  small-fry  of  literature, 
who  shared  the  patronage  of  Cave. 


aerkenwell] 


HICKS'S  HALL. 


321 


"  Jedediah  Buxton,  a  mental  calculator  of  extra- 
ordinary powers,  resided  for  several  weeks  in  1754 
at  St.  John's  Gate.  This  man,  although  he  was  the 
son  of  a  schoolmaster  (William  Buxton),  and  the 
grandson  of  a  vicar  of  his  native  parish  (John 
Buxton),  Elmeton,  in  Derbyshire,  had  never  learned 
to  write,  but  he  could  conduct  the  most  intricate 
calculations  by  his  memory  alone ;  and  such  was 
his  power  of  abstraction,  that  no  noise  could  dis- 
turb him.  One  who  had  heard  of  his  astonishing 
ability  as  a  calculator,  proposed  to  him  for  solution 
the  following  question : — In  a  body  whose  three 
sides  measure  23,145,789  yards,  5,642,732  yards, 
and  54,965  yards,  how  many  cubical  eighths  of  an 
inch  are  there  ?  This  obtuse  reckoning  he  made 
in  a  comparatively  short  time,  although  pursuing 
the  while,  with  many  others,  his  labours  in  the 
fields." 

In  1746  some  small  cannon  were  mounted  on 
the  battlements  of  St.  John's  Gate,  but  for  what 
purpose  is  not  known.  About  1750  one  of  the 
lightning-conductors  recommended  by  Dr.  Franklin 
was  erected  on  one  of  the  eastern  towers  of  St. 
John's  Gate,  for  electrical  experiments,  which  were 
the  rage  of  the  day. 

After  Cave's  death,  in  1754,  the  Magazine  via.% 
printed  and  published  at  the  gate  by  Cave's  brother- 
in-law  and  nephew.  On  the  nephew's  death  Mr. 
David  Bond  became  the  pubhsher  for  the  family, 
and  continued  so  tiU  the  end  of  1778.  Mr.  Nichols 
then  purchased  a  considerable  share  of  the  Maga- 
zine, and  in  178 1,  just  fifty  years  from  its  com- 
mencement, the  property  was  transferred  to  Red 
Lion  Passage,  Fleet  Street,  and  after  forty  years 
there,  it  was  transferred  to  Parliament  Street,  where 
it  remained  for  thirty-six  years. 

A  short  biographical  notice  of  the  worthy  Cave, 
Johnson's  earliest  patron,  is  indispensable  to  a 
full  history  of  that  interesting  reUc  of  old  London, 
St.  John's  Gate.  The  enterprising  printer  and 
publisher,  bom  in  1691,  was  the  son  of  a  man 
reduced  in  fortune,  who  had  turned  shoemaker, 
and  was  educated  at  Rugby.  In  youth  he  was 
alternately  clerk  to  an  excise  collector,  and  a 
Southwark  timber-merchant.  After  being  bound 
apprentice  to  a  London  printer,  he  was  sent  to 
manage  an  office  and  publish  a  weekly  newspaper 
at  Norwich.  He  was  subsequently  employed  at  the 
printing-office  of  Alderman  Barber  (a  friend  of 
Swift),  and  wrote  Tory  articles  in  Misfs  Journal. 
Obtaining  a  small  place  in  the  Post  Office,  he 
began  to  supply  the  London  papers  with  pro- 
vincial intelligence,  and  the  country  printers  with 
surreptitious  reports  of  Parliamentary  debates,  for 
which,  in  1728,  he  was  imprisoned  for  several  days. 


From  the  Post  Office  he  was  moved  to  the  Frank 
Office,  where  he  was  dismissed  for  stopping  a 
letter — as  he  considered  legally — being  a  frank 
given  to  the  terrible  old  Duchess  of  Marlborough  by 
Mr.  Walter  Plummer.  Putting  by,  at  last,  a  sum 
of  money  (in  spite  of  endless  unsuccessful  pro- 
jects). Cave  started  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  and 
for  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  industrious  life 
was  an  affluent,  thrifty  man.  His  prizes  for  poems 
and  epigrams  brought  forward  but  few  poets,  and 
his  chief  prize-takers,  after  all,  turned  out  to  be 
Moses  Browne,  a  Clerkenwell  pen-cutter,  and  Mr. 
John  Duick,  another  pen-cutter,  in  St.  John's  Lane, 
with  whom  Cave  used  to  play  at  shuttlecock  in 
the  old  gate-house. 

In  1751  the  death  of  his  wife  hastened  Cave's 
end.  One  of  his  last  acts  was  to  fondly  press 
the  hand  of  his  great  contributor,  and  the  main 
prop  and  stay  of  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  Dr. 
Samuel  Johnson.  Cave  died  at  the  old  gate-house 
in  1754,  and  was  buried  (probably  without  me- 
morial) in  the  old  church  of  St.  James,  Clerkenwell. 
An  epitaph  was,  however,  written  by  Dr.  Hawkes- 
worth  for  Rugby  Church,  where  albCave's  relations 
were  buried. 

An  old  three-quarter  length  portrait  of  Cave 
was  found  by  Mr.  Foster  in  a  room  on  the  south 
side  of  the  great  chamber  over  St.  John's  gateway, 
and,  in  his  usual  imaginative  yet  business-like  way, 
Mr.  Foster  labelled  it  "  Hogarth."  This  gende- 
man,  it  is  said,  originally  kept  the  "  Old  Mile- 
stone "  house,  in  the  City  Road,  near  the  "  Angel," 
and  in  1848  removed  to  St.  John's  Gate,  where,  by 
energy  and  urbanity,  he  soon  hunted  up  traditions 
of  the  place,  and,  indeed,  where  they  were  thin, 
invented  them.  He  was  chairman  of  the  Licensed 
Victuallers'  Asylum,  and  was  active  in  the  cause  of 
benevolence.  He  died  in  1863,  of  apoplexy,  after 
speaking  at  a  Clerkenwell  vestry-meeting. 

The  Urban  Club,  a  pleasant  literary  society,  well 
supported,  was  started  at  St.  John's  Gate  during 
Mr.  Foster's  reign,  under  the  name  of  "  The  Friday 
Knights,"  but  soon  changed  its  name,  in  com- 
pliment to  that  abstract  yet  famous  personage, 
Sylvanus  Urban.  It  annually  celebrated  the  birth 
of  Shakespeare  in  an  intellectual,  and  yet  convivial 
way. 

The  once  famous  "  Hicks's  Hall,"  from  whence 
one  of  the  milestone  distances  from  London  was 
computed,  stood,  says  the  indefatigable  Mr.  Pinks, 
about  200  yards  from  Smithfield,  in  the  widest 
part  of  St.  John  Street,  near  the  entrance  to  St. 
John's  Lane.  Hicks's  Hall  was  a  stately  house, 
built  in  16 1 2,  as  a  sessions  house  for  Clerkenwell, 
by  that  great  citizen,  Sir  Baptist  Hicks,  silk  mercer, 


322 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[ClerkenwelL 


in  Soper  Lane,  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  During 
the  reigns  of  Edward  VI.,  Mary,  and  Ehzabeth 
the  Middlesex  magistrates  had  generally  met  in  a 
scrambling  and  indecorous  fashion,  at  some  chance 
inn,  frequently  the  "Windmill"  or  the  "Castle,"  in 
St.  John  Street,  by  Smithfield  Bars.  The  noise  of 
the  carriers'  wagons  vexing  the  grave  Justice 
Shallows  of  those  days,  James  I.  granted,  in  1610, 
to  Sir  Thomas  Lake  and  fourteen  other  knights 
and  esquires  of  Middlesex,  a  piece  of  ground, 
128  feet  long  and  32  feet  broad,  with  20  feet  of 
carriage-way  on  each  side.  Sir  Baptist,  having 
biiilt  the  new  sessions  hall  at  his  own  proper 
charge,  feasted,  on  the  day  of  opening,  twenty-six 
justices  of  the  county,  who  then,  standing  up  with 
raised  goblets,  with  one  consent  christened  the 
new  building  Hicks's  Hall.  Sir  Baptist  seems  to 
have  been  a  most  wealthy  and  influential  citizen, 
and  to  have  lent  King  James,  who  was  careless 
and  extravagant  enough,  vast  sums  of  money, 
besides  supplying  the  court  with  stuffs  and  cloths, 
of  tissue  and  gold,  and  silks,  satins,  and  velvets, 
the  courtiers  getting  very  much  entangled  with 
the  rich  mercer's  bills  and  bonds.  In  16 14  the 
Earl  of  Somerset  borrowed  Sir  Baptist's  house 
at  Kensington,  and  it  is  certain  that  he  lived 
with  all  the  splendour  of  a  nobleman.  In  1628 
Sir  Baptist  Hicks  was  advanced  to  the  peerage  as 
Viscount  Campden.  He  died  in  the  year  1629, 
and  was  buried  at  Campden,  in  his  native  county 
of  Gloucestershire.  Of  his  daughters,  one  married 
Lord  Noel,  the  other  Sir  Charles  Morison,  of 
Cashiobury,  and  it  is  said  he  gave  each  of  them 
;^ioo,ooo  for  a  marriage  portion.  He  left  ;^200 
to  the  poor  of  Kensington,  founded  almshouses 
at  Campden,  and  left  large  sums  to  the  Mercers' 
Company.  That  celebrated  preacher.  Baptist 
Noel,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Gainsborough,  Viscount 
Campden,  derived  his  singular  Christian  name 
from  the  rich  mercer  of  Soper  Lane.  Sir  Baptist's 
great  house  at  Kensington  (with  sixty  rooms),  burnt 
in  1816,  was,  it  is  said,  won  by  him  from  Sir  Walter 
Cope,  in  a  game  of  chance.  The  Viscountess  of 
Campden,  the  widow  of  Sir  Baptist,  left  vast  sums 
in  charity,  some  of  which  bequests,  being  illegal, 
were  seized  by  the  Parliament. 

The  sessions  hall  built  by  Sir  Baptist  was  a 
mean  square  brick  house,  with  a  stone  portico,  and 
annexed  to  the  hall  was  a  round-house,  and  close 
by  was  a  pillory.  At  Hicks's  Hall  criminals  were 
dissected.  This  court  has  been  the  scene  of  some 
great  historical  trials.  The  twenty-nine  regicides 
were  tried  there,  and  so  were  many  of  the  con- 
spirators in  the  so-called  Popish  Plot;  and  here 
also  Count  Konigsmarck  was  tried  for  murdering 


Hicks's 


his  rival,  Mr.  Thynne,  and  was  acquitted. 
Hall  is  referred  to  in  "  Hudibras  :" — 

"  An  old  dull  sot,  who  told  the  clock 
For  many  years  at  Bridewell  dock, 
At  Westminster  and  Hicks's  Hall, 
And  hiccius  doccius  played  in  alL" 

When  Sir  John  Hawkins,  a  builder,  the  father  of 
Dr.  Johnson's  spiteful  biographer,  used  to  go  to 
Hicks's  Hall,  as  chairman  of  the  Middlesex  Quarter 
Sessions,  he  used  to  drive  pompously  from  his 
house  at  Highgate,  in  a  coach  and  four  horses. 

In  1777  Hicks's  Hall  became,  so  ruinous  that 
it  was  proposed  to  rebuild  it,  at  an  expense  of 
;^i 2,000.  This  was  opposed  in  Parliament,  the 
traffic  of  Smithfield  rendering  the  place  too  noisy 
and  inconvenient.  A  new  sessions  house  was 
therefore  built  on  the  west  side  of  Clerkenwell 
Green,  in  1782,  and  the  old  hall  was  pulled  down, 
but  for  a  long  time  afterwards  the  new  hall  went 
by  the  old  name.  To  the  new  house  a  portrait  of 
Sir  Baptist  Hicks  and  a  fine  Jacobean  mantelpiece 
were  removed  by  Rogers  the  architect. 

St.  John  Street,  Clerkenwell,  is  one  of  the  most 
ancient  of  the  northern  London  streets,  and  is 
mentioned  in  a  charter  of  confirmation  as  early  as 
the  year  11 70.  It  seems  originally  to  have  been 
only  a  way  for  pack-horses.  It  was  first  paved  in 
the  reign  of  Richard  II.  In  the  reign  of  Henry 
VIII.  it  had  become  "  very  foul,  full  of  pits  and 
sloughs,  very  perilous  and  noyous,"  and  very  neces- 
sary to  be  kept  clean  for  the  avoiding  of  pestilence. 
In  Stow's  time  this  road  was  used  by  persons 
coming  from  Highgate,  Muswell  Hill,  &c.,  but  grand 
persons  often  took  to  the  fields,  in  preference,  as 
we  find  Elizabeth,  James  I.,  and  Charles  I.  doing ; 
and  no  doubt  St.  John  Street  was  a  deep-rutted, 
dirty  country  road,  something  like  a  neglected 
plank  road  in  Kentucky,  or  a  suburban  street  in  a 
Russian  country  town. 

There  was,  in  early  times,  a  raised  and  paved 
causeway  leading  from  St.  John  Street  to  Islington 
Church,  which  was  called  the  "Long  Causeway." 
About  1742  numerous  footpads  prowled  about 
here.  On  the  fortification  of  London  during  the 
civil  wars,  in  1642-3,  a  battery  and  breastworks 
were  erected  at  the  south  end  of  St.  John  Street; 
Captain  John  Eyre,  of  Cromwell's  Regiment, 
superintended  them.  There  were  also  fortifica- 
tions at  Mountmill  (the  plague-pit  spot  before 
mentioned),  in  Goswell  Street  Road ;  a  large  fort, 
with  four  half  bulwarks,  at  the  New  River  upper' 
pond,  and  a  small  redoubt  near  Islington  Pound. 

What  is  now  Red  Lion  Street,  Clerkenwell,  was 
formerly  an  open  piece  of  ground  belonging  to  St. 
John's  Priory,  subsequently  called  Bocher  or  Butt 


OerkenweB.] 


ANCIENT  GLORIES  OF  ST.   JOHN'S  SQUARE. 


323 


Close,  and  afterwards  Garden  Alleys.  The  houses 
were  chiefly  built  about  17 19,  by  Mr.  Michell,  a 
magistrate,  who  lived  on  the  east  side  of  Clerken- 
well  Green.  His  house  was  afterwards  occupied  by 
Mr.  Wildman,  the  owner  of  that  unparalleled  race- 
horse, EcUpse,  who  sold  him  to  lucky  Colonel 
O'Kelly  for  1,700  guineas.  This  horse,  which  was 
never  beaten,  and  said  to  be  a  "  roarer,"  could  run 
four  miles  in  six  minutes  and  four  seconds. 

The  house  No.  i,  at  the  north-west  corner  of  Red 
Lion  Street,  was  once  the  "Jerusalem"  Tavern, 
a  great  house  for  sales  and  parochial  meetings. 
It  was  here  that  industrious  compiler,  Mr.  John 
Britton,  was  bound  apprentice  to  Mr.  Mendhara, 
a  wine -merchant,  an  occupation  which  nearly 
killed  the  young  student.  In  snatches  of  time 
stolen  from  the  fuming  cellar,  Britton  used  to  visit 
Mr.  Essex,  a  literary  dial-painter,  who  kindly  lent 
him  useful  books,  and  introduced  him  to  his  future 
partner  in  letters,  Mr.  Edward  Brayley,  and  to  Dr. 
Trusler  and  Dr.  Towers,  the  literary  celebrities  of 
Clerkenwell. 

This  Dr.  Trusler  was  a  literary  preacher,  who, 
in  1787,  resided  at  Na  14,  Red  Lion  Street,  and 
supported  himself  by  selling  MS.  sermons  to  the 
idle  clergy.  His  father  had  been  proprietor  of  the 
fashionable  "  Maryborie  Gardens,"  and  his  sister 
made  the  seed  and  plum-cake  for  that  estabhsh- 
ment.  Trusler,  a  clever,  pushing  man,  was  at  first 
an  apothecary  and  then  a  curate.  Cowper,  in 
"  The  Task,"  laughed  at  Trusler  as  "  a  grand  caterer 
and  dry  nurse  of  the  church."  He  seems  to  have 
been  an  impudent  projector,  for  when  told  by  Dr. 
Terrick,  Bishop  of  London,  that  he  offered  his 
clergy  inducements  to  idleness,  Trusler  replied  that 
he  made  ;^i5o  a  year  by  his  manuscript  sermons, 
and  that,  for  a  benefice  of  the  same  value  he  would 
willingly  discontinue  their  sale.  He  afterwards 
started  as  printer,  at  62,  Wardour  Street,  and  pub- 
lished endless  ephemeral  books  on  carving,  law, 
declamation,  farming,  &c. — twenty-five  separate 
works  in  all.  He  died  in  1820.  In  1725  a  Jew 
rag-merchant  of  this  street  died,  worth  ^40,000. 
Early  in  the  century  an  Arminian  Jew  named 
Simons  lived  here.  He  made  some  ;^2oo,ooo, 
but,  ruined  by  his  own  and  his  son's  extravagance, 
died  at  last  in  the  plarish  workhouse.  In  1857  an 
old  lady  named  Austin  died  in  this  street  (No.  22), 
aged  105. 

It  was  to  a  printer  named  Sleep,  in  St.  John  Street, 
that  Guy  Fawkes,  alias  Johnson,  used  to  come 
stealthily,  in  1605,  to  meet  fellow-Romanists,  Jesuits, 
and  other  disaffected  persons.  St.  John  Street  was 
a  great  place  for  carriers,  especially  those  of  War- 
wickshire and  Nottingham,  and  the  "  Cross  Keys," 


one  of  their  houses  of  call,  was  one  of  Savage's 
favourite  resorts,  and  there  probably  his  sworn 
friend,  Johnson,  also  repaired.  The  "Pewter  Plat- 
ter," the  "Windmill,"  and  the  "Golden  Lion"  were 
well  enough,  but  some  of  these  St.  John  Street 
hostelries,  in  1775,  seem  to  have  been  much 
frequented  by  thieves  and  other  bad  characters. 

St.  John's  Square  occupied,  says  Mr.  Pinks,  the 
exact  area  of  the  court  of  the  ancient  priory.  In 
the  reign  of  James  II.,  a  Father  Corker  built  a 
convent  here,  which  was  pulled  down  by  Pro- 
testant rioters,  in  1688,  and  several  'prentice  boys 
were  shot  by  the  Horse  Guards  during  the  riots. 
The  Little  Square,  as  the  north-western  side  is 
called,  was  formerly  known  as  North's  Court,  from 
the  builder,  a  relation  of  Lord  Keeper  North,  in 
Charles  II.'s  time.  Sir  John  North  resided  here 
in  1677  and  1680.  Dr.  William  Goddard,  one  of 
the  Society  of  Chemical  Physicians,  who  lived 
in  St.  John's  Close,  as  it  was  then  called,  was  one 
of  those  who  had  Government  permission  to  sell 
remedies  for  the  Great  Plague.  At  the  south-west 
corner  of  Jerusalem  Passage  stood  the  printing- 
office  of  Mr.  Dove,  whose  neat  "  English  Classics  " 
are  still  so  often  seen  at  old  bookstalls.  On  the 
south  side  of  the  square  is  the  Free-Thinking 
Christians'  Meeting  House.  This  body  seceded 
from  the  Baptists,  and  built  this  chapel,  about 
the  year  1830.  They  were  at  first  in  Old  Change, 
then  in  Cateaton  Street  (now  Gresham  Street), 
but  were  persecuted  by  Bishop  Porteus.  They 
have  discussions  on  passages  of  the  Bible,  but  no 
pubUc  prayers  or  ceremonies  whatever. 

In  166 1  Charles  Howard,  first  Earl  of  Carlisle, 
resided  in  the  precincts  of  St.  John's  Square.  This 
useful  partisan  of  Charles  II.,  ennobled  at  the 
Restoration,  was  our  ambassador  in  Russia,  Sweden, 
and  Denmark,  and  v.'as  subsequently  Governor  ot 
Jamaica.  At  the  same  period  Arthur  Capel,  Earl 
of  Essex,  resided  here,  until  1670.  He  was  after- 
wards Viceroy  of  Ireland,  and  First  Lord  of  the 
Treasury.  Persecuted  for  his  doubtful  share  in  the 
Rye  House  Plot,  he  killed  himself  In  the  Tower. 
Here  also  lived  the  first  Lord  Townshend,  one  of 
the  five  Commoners  deputed  by  Parliament  to  go 
over  to  Holland  and  beg  Charles  II.  to  return. 
Another  eminent  resident  was  a  staunch  Common- 
wealth man,  Sir  WiUiam  Fenwicke,  who  died  in 
1676.  To  these  noble  names  we  have  to  add  that 
of  Sir  William  Cordell,  Master  of  the  Rolls  in  the 
times  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth.  He  was  Solicitor- 
General  at  the  trial  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt.  Queen 
Elizabeth  visited  him  at  his  estate  in  Suffolk, 
when  the  Duke  of  Alencon  sent  to  sue  for  her 
hand. 


324 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tCIerkenwell. 


The  following  epitaph  on  Sir  William  Cordell  is 
thus  translated  by  Fuller  from  the  tomb  in  Long 
Melford  Ch-rjch,  Suffolk  :— 

"  Here  William  Cordal  doth  in  rest  remain, 
Great  by  his  birth,  but  greater  by  his  brain ; 
Plying  his  studies  hard  his  youth  throughout, 
Of  causes  he  became  a  pleader  stout 


manufactory.  His  father,  Israel  Wilkes,  a  rich 
distiller,  lived  in  a  handsome  old  brick  house 
approached  by  a  paved  court  with  wide  iron  gates, 
north  of  the  church.  There  had  been  a  distillery 
here  as  early  as  1747.  The  old  distiller  who  lived 
here,  like  a  generous  and  intelligent  country  squire, 
drove  a  coach  and  six  horses,  and  cultivated  the 


EDWARD  CAVE.     (From  the  Portrait  by  Hogarth.) 


His  learning  deep  such  eloquence  did  vent. 
He  was  chose  Speaker  of  the  Parliament  ; 
Afterwards  Queen  Mary  did  him  make  (knight), 
And  counsellor,  State  work  to  undertake  ; 
And  Master  of  the  Rolls,  well  worn  with  age. 
Dying  in  Christ,  heaven  was  his  upmost  stage  ; 
Diet  and  clothes  to  poor  he  gave  at  large. 
And  a  fair  almshouse  founded  on  his  charge. " 

The  site  of  the  birthplace  of  that  clever  but  un- 
principled demagogue,  John  Wilkes,  is  now  a  clock 


society  of  philosophers,  men  of  letters,  noblemen, 
and  merchants.  The  house,  which  was  pulled 
down  about  181 2,  was  at  one  time  occupied  by 
Colonel  Magniac,  who  rendered  himself  famous  by 
the  automaton  clocks  he  made  for  the  Emperor 
of  China. 

Clerkenwell  is  noted  for  its  clock-makers^  and 
here  armies  of  busy  and  intelligent  men  spend  their 
lives  in  brass-casting,  silvering  dials,  wheel-cutting, 


Clerkenwell.] 


A  FINE  OLD   MANSION. 


325 


pinion-cutting,  and  glass-bending;  and  at  No.  35, 
Northampton  Square,  Clerkenwell,  is  the  British 
Horological  Institute,  for  the  cultivation  of  the 
science  of  horology,  and  its  kindred  arts  and 
manufactures.  At  No.  28,  St.  John's  Square  is  the 
oflSce  of  the  Goldsmiths'  and  Jewellers'  Annuity 


now  a  poor  bricked  passage  leading  to  Ledbury 
Place,  which  stands  on  the  site  of  the  bishop's 
old  garden,  was  approached  by  several  steps,  and 
boasted  a  portico  consisting  of  two  Tuscan  columns 
supporting  a  moulded  entablature.  In  coiirse  of 
time  the    house   lost   caste,  till,  in  1817,  it  was 


THE  CRYPT  OF  ST.   JOHN'S,    CLERKENWELL. 


Association,  for  relieving  the  decayed  members  of 
the  two  trades. 

A  special  feature  of  this  part  of  Clerkenwell  is 
Burnet  House  (No.  44,  formerly  No.  36),  on  the 
west  side  of  St.  John's  Square.  It  was  originally 
a  noble  mansion  of  two  storeys,  says  Mr.  Pinks, 
and  lighted  in  fronj  by  fourteen  square-headed 
windows.  The  forecourt,  upon  which  shops  were 
built  in  1859,  was  a  garden.  The  grand  entrance, 
76- Vol.  II. 


shared  between  an  undertaker  and  a  hearth-rug 
maker,  and  in  1865  it  harboured  numerous  families. 
The  ,old  staircases  are  gone,  but  in  the  windowless 
basement  are  the  original  kitchens  and  cellars.  "  In 
several  of  the  rooms,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "are  very 
handsome  mantelpieces,  different  in  design,  the 
ornaments  in  relief  upon  them  consisting  of  flowers 
and  leaves  in  festoonings,  medallions,  interlacing 
lines,  and  groups  of  female  figures.     The  chimney 


326 


Old  and  New  london. 


[ClerkenwoII. 


jambs  are  of  white  marble,  as  are  also  the  hearths. 
The  old  stoves  have  been  all  removed,  and  replaced 
by  smaller  ones  of  more  recent  date.     There  was 
formerly  a  very  curious  back  to  one  of  the  grates 
in  this  mansion;   it  was  a  bas-rehef  in   iron    of 
Charles  I.,  with  the  date  of  1644  upon  it,  and  repre- 
sented that   monarch   triumphantly  riding  over  a 
prostrate  female  figure,  the  Spirit  of  Faction.     On 
each  side  were  pillars,    encircled  with  bay-leaves 
and  a  scroll  of  palm-branches.     On  the  top  were 
the    royal    crown,  and   the  initials,  '  C.  R.,'  and 
below  the  effigies,  of  two  women,  seated  on  low 
stools,  having  baskets  of  fruit  before  them.  Nothing 
is  known  of  this  device  by  the  subsequent  inmates, 
and  it  was  probably  either  burnt  out  or  removed. 
In  the  north-east  corner  of  the  yard  of  the  right 
wing  of  the  house,  raised  about  eighteen  inches 
from  the  ground  on  two  piers  of  brickwork,  was  an 
old  leaden  cistern,  the  dimensions  of  which  are 
four  feet  two  inches  in  length,  twenty  and  a  half 
inches  in  width,  and  two  feet  six  and  a  half  inches 
in  depth,  with  a  mean  thickness  of  half  an  inch. 
The  cistern,  which  was  a  massive  piece  of  cast  work, 
was  ornamented  with  several  devices  in  low  relief 
On  the  front,  and  at  either  end,  was  a  figure  of  the 
Goddess  of  Plenty,  recumbent,  by  the  side  of  a 
cornucopia    overflowing  with  flowers    and  fruits, 
and  behind  her  was  a  sheaf  of  full-eared  wheat. 
Within  a  panel  there  was  also  a  shield,  quite  plain, 
and  over  this,  as  a  crest,  was  a  lion  passant,  the 
dexter  paw  resting  on  a  bl&zing  star.'    Near  the 
upper  edge  of  the  cistern  was  the  date  of  its  casting, 
1682,  and  the  initials,  'A.  B.  M.,'  doubtless  those 
of  an  occupier  antecedent  to  Burnet's  tenancy  of 
the  premises. 

"There  was  until  recently  another  cistern  on 
the  premises,  similar  to  the  above,  bearing  the  date 
of  1721,  and  the  initial  'G.,'  for  Gilbert,  sur- 
mounted by  a  mitre.  This  may  have  been  re-cast 
by  one  of  Burnet's  successors,  as  a  memorial  of 
him.  Recently,  having  fellen  from  its  position, 
it  was  removed  altogether  off  the  premises,  and 
sold  for  old  metal,  and  it  is  said  to  have  weighed 
four  hundredweight." 

Bishop  Burnet,  the  son  of  an  Edinburgh  lawyer, 
was  born  in  1643.  He  was  educated  in  Aberdeen ; 
in  1669  he  became  professor  of  divinity  at  Glasgow, 
and  when  only  twenty-six  years  old  was  offered  a 
Scottish  bishopric,  which  he  modestly  declined. 
In  1674,  when  he  had  already  married  a  daughter 
of  the  Earl  of  Cassilis,  he  came  to  London,  and 
Was  appointed  preacher  at  the  Rolls'  Chapel  by  Sir 
Harbottle  Grimstone,  and  soon  after  was  chosen 
lecturer  at  St.  Clement  Danes.  In  1679  appeared 
the  first  folio  volume  of  the  chief  work  of  his  life, 


the  "  History  of  the  Reformation."  Charles  II. 
offered  him  the  bishopric  of  Chichester,  if  he  would 
only  turn  Tory,  but  Burnet,  though  vain,  and  fond 
of  money,  conscientiously  refused,  and  even  wrote 
a  strong  letter  to  the  king,  animadverting  on  his 
flagrant  vices.  At  the  execution  of  the  good 
Lord  William  Russell,  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields, 
Burnet  bravely  attended  him  on  the  scaffold,  and 
in  consequence  instantly  lost  the  preachership  at 
the  Rolls  and  the  lectureship  of.  St.  Clement's. 

On  the  accession  of  James  II.  Burnet  retired  to 
the  Continent,  and  travelled;  but  on  the  accession, 
of  the  Prince  of  Orange  was  rewarded  by  the 
bishopric  of  Salisbury.  According  to  some  writers, 
Burnet  was  the  very  paragon  of  bishops.  Two 
months  every  year  he  spent  in  traversing  his  diocese. 
He  entertained  his  clergy,  instead  of  taxing  them 
with  dinners,  and  helped  the  holders  of  poor  bene- 
fices. He  selected  promising  young  men  to  study 
in  Salisbury  Close,  under  his  own  eye;  and  was 
active  in  obtaining  Queen  Anne's  Bounty,  for  the 
increasing  small  livings. 

Burnet  died  at  his  Clerkenwell  house  in  1715,, 
and  was  buried  near  the  communion;table  of  St. 
James's,  Clerkenwell,  the  base  Tory  rabble  flinging 
stones  and  dirt  at  the  bishop's  hearse. 

In  conversation  Burnet  is  described  as  disagree- 
able, through  a  thick-skinned  want  of  considera- 
tion. One  day,  during  Marlborough's  disgrace  and 
voluntary  exile,  Burnet,  dining  with  the  duchess, 
who  was  a  reputed  termagant,  compared  the  duke 
to  Behsarius.  "  How  do  you  account  for  so  great 
a  man  having  been  so  miserable  and  deserted?" 
asked  the  duchess.  "  Oh,  madam,"  repHed  the 
bishop,  "  he  had,  as  you  know,  such  a  brimstone  of 
a  wife."  Burnet  was  opposed  to  the  clergy  enjoying 
a  plurality  of  livings.  A  clergyman  of  his  diocese 
once  asked  him  if,  on  the  authority  of  St.  Bernard, 
he  might  hold  two  livings.  "  How  will  you  be  able 
to  serVe  them  both  ?"  inquired  Burnet.  "  I  intend 
to  officiate  by  deputy  in  one,"  was  the  reply.  "  Will 
your  deputy,"  said  Burnet,  "  be  damned  for  you 
too?  Believe  me,  sir,  you  may  serve  your  cure 
by  proxy,  but  you  must  be  damned  in  person." 

Burnet  was  extravagantly  fond  of  tobacco  and 
writing,  and  to  enjoy  both  at  the  same  time,  he 
perforated  the  brim  of  his  large  hat,  and  putting  his 
long  pipe  through  it,  puffed  and  wrote,  and  wrote 
and  puffed  again. 

How  far  Burnet's  historical  writings  can  be  relied 
on  is  still  uncertain.  He  was  a  wholesale  Whig, 
and  seems  to  have  been  a  vain,  credulous  man, 
who,  according  to  Lord  Bathurst,  Ustened  too  much 
to  flying  gossip.  Swift,  in  his  violent  and  ribald 
way,  denounced  Burnet  as  a  common  liar,  but,  on 


Clerkenwell.] 


A  SECRET  JESUITS'   COLLEGE. 


327 


the  whole,  we  are  inclined  to  think  -that  he  was 
only  a  violent  party  man,  who,  however,  had  a 
conscience,  and  tried  his  best  to  be  honest.  There 
is  no  doubt,  however,  from  a  letter  discovered  in 
the  Napier  charter  chest,  that  on  the  discovery 
of  the  Rye  House  Plot,  Burnet  made  many  timid 
advances  to  the  cruel  and  corrupt  court. 

In  Burnet's  house  afterwards  lived  that  remark- 
able man,  Dr.  Joseph  Towers,  the  son  of  a  poor 
bookseller  in  Southwark,  who  was  born  in  the  year 
173.7.  Failing  as  a  bookseller  himself.  Towers 
turned  dissenting  minister.  He  compiled  the  first 
seven  volumes  of  "  British  Biography,"  and  wrote 
fifty  articles  for  Kippis's  "  Biographia  Britannica." 
In  1794  Towers  was  arrested  for  his  connection 
■with  the  Society  for  Constitutional  Information,  of 
■which  Sheridan,  Erskine,  and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
■were  members.  He  died  at  this  house,  in  St.  John's 
Square,  in  1799.  Dr.  Adam  Clarke,  the  learned 
and  pious  author  of  the  well-known  Bible  com- 
mentary, firequently  lodged  at  No.  45,  St.  John's 
Square,  where  his  sons  carried  on  a  printing  busi- 
ness. He  was  fifteen  years  passing  his  eight 
quarto  volumes  through  the  press.  He  died  in  1 83  2, 
and  was  buried  in  the  rear  of  the  City  Road  Chapel, 
near  Wesley.  The  Wesleyan  chapel  next  this  house 
■was  erected  in  1849,  ^-t  a  cost  of  ;2^3,8oo,  by  the 
transplanted  congregation  of  Wilderness  Row 
Chapel.  The  old-estabHshed  printing-offices  of 
Messrs.  Gilbert  and  Rivington  were  started  in 
St.  John's  Square  about  1757,  and  Mr.  William 
Rivington  became  a  partner  in  1830. 

St.  John's  Lane  was,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  chief 
approach  to  the  Hospital  of  St.  John  from  the  City. 
About  16 1 9  this  quarter  was  fashionable,  numbering 
Lord  Berkeley,  Lady  Cheteley,  Sir  Michael  Stanhope, 
Sir  Anthony  Barker,  and  Lord  Chief  Justice  Keel- 
ing among  its  noble  and  influential  inhabitants. 
This  last  disgrace  to  the  Bench  was  the  base  judge 
who  sent  John  Bunyan  to  prison  for  three  months, 
for  being  an  upholder  of  conventicles.  Some  per- 
sons were  once  indicted  before  him  for  attending  a 
conventicle;  and,  "although  it  was  proved  that 
ithey  had  assembled  on  the  Lord's  Day,  with  Bibles 
in  their  hands,  without  prayer-books,  they  were 
•acquitted.  He  therefore  fined  the  jury  100  marks 
■a-piece,  and  imprisoned  them  till  the  fines  were 
■paid.  Again,  on  the  trial  of  a  man  for  murder, 
who  was  suspected  of  being  a  Dissenter,  and  whom 
he  had  a  great  desire  to  hang,  he  fined  and  im- 
;prisoned  all  the  jury,  because,  contrary  to  his 
'directions,  they  brought  in  a  verdict  of  man- 
:slaughter."  Retribution  came  at  last  to  this  un- 
just judge.  He  was  cited  to  the  bar  of  the  House 
of  Commons  in  1667,  for  constantly  vilifying  Magna 


Charta,  and  only  obtained  mercy  by  the  most 
abject  submission.  He  retired  to  his  house  in 
Clerkenwell,  disgraced,  drew  up  a  volume  of  divers 
cases  in  pleas  of  the  Crown,  and  died  in  167 1. 

In  this  same  memorable  lane  resided,  in  1677, 
that  hard  theological  student,  Matthew  Poole,  the 
compiler  of  the  great  Biblical  synopsis,  in  five 
volumes  folio.  During  the  sham  disclosures  of 
Titus  Gates,  Poole's  name  was  said  to  be  down 
for  immediate  assassination.  He  fled  to  Holland 
in  dismay,  and  died  there  the  same  year. 

The  "  Old  Baptist's  Head,"  in  St.  John's  Lane, 
a  very  historical  house,  was  part  of  an  old  Eliza- 
bethan mansion,  and  the  residence  of  Sir  Thomas 
Forster,  one  of  the  judges  in  the  Court  of  Common 
Pleas,  who  died  here  in  161 2  (James  I.)  The 
quaint  sign  of  the  house  was  "John  the  Baptist's 
Head  on  a  Charger."  The  inn  formerly  boasted 
bay  windows  of  stained  glass,  and  in  the  tap-room 
a  carved  stone  mantelpiece,  with  what  was  sup- 
posed to  be  the  Forster  arms  in  the  centre.  In 
1 8 13  the  rooms  still  had  panelled  wainscoats,  and 
in  the  tap-room  hung  a  picture  of  a  Dutch  revel, 
by  Heemskerke,  an  imitator  of  Brauwer.  In  later 
years  the  "  Old  Baptist's  Head"  became  a  halting- 
place  for  prisoners,  on  their  way  from  Newgate  to 
the  New  Prison,  Clerkenwell.  In  1716  one  of  the 
celebrated  Whig  mug-houses  was  in  St.  John's 
Lane;  and  at  the  south-west  comer  of  St.  John's 
Lane,  just  beyond  the  boundary-mark  of  the 
parish,  stood  the  "Queen's  Head."  It  bore  the 
date  159s,  and  in  a  niche  of  the  gable-ended  front 
was  a  bust  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  carved  in  stone. 

In  1627-28  (Charles  I.)  a  secret  Jesuits'  College 
was  discovered  near  Clerkenwell  Church,  in  a  house 
where  the  Earl  of  Marlborough  had  formerly  lived. 
Sir  John  Coke,  then  Secretary  of  State,  drew  up  a 
report  of  the  discovery,  which  has  been  edited  by 
Mr.  Nichols,  and  re-published  in  the  "Camden 
Miscellany."  Sir  John's  narrative  commences  thus  : 
"About  Christmas  last  Humphrey  Cross,  one  of 
the  messengers  in  ordinarie,  gave  mee  notice  that 
the  neighbours  in  St.  John's  saw  provisions  carried 
into  the  corner  house  uppon  the  broadway  above 
Clerkenwel,  but  knewe  none  that  dwelt  there.  In 
March  following,  about  the  beginning  of  the  Par- 
liament, Crosse  brought  word  that  divers  lights 
were  observed  in  the  howse,  and  that  some  com- 
panie  were  gathered  thither.  The  time  considered, 
I  thought  fitt  to  make  noe  further  delay,  and  there- 
fore gave  warrant  to  the  sayd  Crosse  and  Mr. 
Longe,  and  the  constables  next  adjoyning  to  enter 
the  house,  and  to  search  what  persons  resorted 
thither,  and  to  what  end  they  concealed  their  being 
there.     At  their  entrie  they  found  one  that  called 


328 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Clerkenwell. 


himselfe  Thomas  Latham,  who  pretended  to  be 
keeper  of  the  howse  for  the  Earle  of  Shrewsburie. 
They  found  another,  named  George  Kemp,  said  to 
be  the  gardener;  and  a  woman,  called  Margaret 
Isham.  But  when  they  desired  to  go  further, 
into  the  upper  roomes,  which  (whilst  they  had 
made  way  into  the  hall)  were  all  shutt  upp  and 
made  fast,  Latham  tould  them  plainly  that  if  they 
offred  to  goe  further  they  would  find  resistance, 
and  should  doe  it  at  their  perils.  They  there- 
uppon  repared  to  my  house  and  desired  more  help, 
and  a  more  ample  warrant  for  their  proceedings. 
And  then  both  a  warrant  was  granted  from  the 
councell  boorde,  and  the  Sheriffes  of  London  were 
sent  for  theire  assistance.  But  by  this  protraction 
they  within  the  upper  roomes  gott  advantage  to 
retire  themselves  by  secret  passages  into  theire 


vaults  or  lurkinge-places,  which  themselves  called 
their  securities;  so  as  when  the  officers  came  up 
they  found  no  man  above  staires  save  only  a  sick 
man  in  his  bed,  with  one  servant  attending  him. 
The  sick  man  called  himselfe  by  the  name  of 
Weeden,  who  is  since  discovered  to  be  truely 
called  Plowden;  and  the  servant  named  himselfe 
John  Penington.  More  they  found  not,  til,  going 
downe  againe  into  the  cellars,  Crosse  espied  a  brick 
wall,  newly  made,  which  he  caused  to  be  perced 
and  there  within  the  vault  they  found  Daniel 
Stanhop,  whom  I  take  to  be  Father  Bankes,  the 
Rector  of  their  college,  George  Holland,  aHas  Guy 
Holt,  Joseph  Underbill,  alias  Thomas  Poulton, 
Robert  Beaumond,  and  Edward  Moore,  the  priest ; 
and  the  next  day,  in  the  like  lurkinge-place,  they 
found  Edward  Parre." 


CHAPTER  XLL 
CLERKENWELL— (ftf«A««,?(/). 

The  Karly  Days  of  Croquet— Clerkenwell  Close— Thomas  Weaver— Sir  Thomas  Challoner— The  Fourth  Earl  of  Clanricarde— A  Right  Mad 
Doctor — Newcastle  Place  and  its  Inhabitants— Clerkenwell  Green — Izaac  Walton — ^Jack  Adams,  the  Clerkenwell  Simpleton^— The  Lamb 
and  Flag  Ragged  School — The  Northampton  Family— Miss  Ray— The  Bewicks— Aylesbury  House  and  its  Associations— The  Musical 
Small-coal  Man— Berkeley  Street— "  Sally  in  our  Alley"— Red  Bull  Theatre— Ward's  Public-house— The  Old  and  New  Church  ol 
St.  James- 


BowLiNG-GREENS  were  once  numerous  in  Bowhng 
Green  Lane,  Clerkenwell.  In  1675,  says  Mr.  Pinks, 
there  were  two,  at  the  north-east  corner.  The 
bowling-alleys  were  both  open  and  coVered,|and  were 
laid  with  turf  or  gravel.  The  bowls  were  flat  or 
round,  and  the  simple  object  was  to  lay  your  bowl 
so  many  times  nearest  the  jack,  or  mark.  The 
pleasant  game  is  repeatedly  mentioned  by  Shake- 
speare, and  furnished  his  quick  fancy  with  innu- 
merable metaphors.  There  was  also  a  game  of 
ground  balls,  which  were  driven  through  an  arch. 
This  game  expanded  became  Charles  II.'s  favourite 
diversion,  "Pall  Mall,"  and,  contracted  and  com- 
plicated, it  changed  into  our  modern  "Croquet." 
In  161 7  (James  I.)  the  Groom  Porters'  Office  issued 
licences  for  thirty-one  bowling-alleys,  fourteen  tennis- 
courts,  and  forty  gambling-houses  in  London, 
Westminster,  and  their  suburbs,  all  to  be  closed  on 
Sundays.  In  1675  there  were  only  six  houses  in 
this  lane,  and  at  the  south-west  corner  was  the 
churchyard  of  St.  James's.  The  "  Cherry  Tree '' 
pubHc-house  was  well  known  in  1775,  and  there 
were  cherry-trees  still  there  in  1825.  At  the  south- 
west comer  of  Bowling  Green  Lane,  in  1675,  stood 
one  of  those  mountain  heaps  of  cinders  and  rubbish 
which  disgraced  old  London.  At  one  end  of  the 
lane  there  once  stood  a  whipping-posf  for  petty 
offenders.     An  old  name  for  this  lane  was  Feather 


Bed  Lane,  but  why  we  do  not  know,  unless  boys 
like  Defoe's  Colonel  Jack  lolled,  burrowed,  and 
gambolled  on  the  huge  dust-heap. 

Clerkenwell  Close  teems  with  old  legends  and 
traditions ;  and  well  it  may,  for  was  it  not  part  of  the 
old  nunnery  cloisters,  and  afterwards  a  portion  of  the 
glebe  of  the  church  of  St.  James  ?  The  house  now 
No.  22,  says  Mr.  Pinks,  the  Stow  of  Clerkenwell, 
was  originally  the  parsonage  house.  The  "  Crown 
Tavern,"  at  the  south-west  corner  of  the  Close, 
was  rebuilt  in  the  early  part  of  this  century.  The 
mummy  of  a  poor  cat,  which  some  mason  of  John 
or  Richard's  reign  had  cruelly  buried  alive  in  one 
of  the  walls  of^  St.  James's  Church,  used  to  be 
solemnly  shown  there.  Formerly  the  southern  en- 
trance to  the  Close  was  small,  and  squeezed  in' 
between  a  butcher's  shop  and  the  "Crown 
Tavern." 

That  good  plodding  "old  mortality,"  John  Weever, 
lived  in  Clerkenwell  Close  in  163 1  (Charles  I.),  and 
to  that  place  brought  home  many  a  pocket-load  of 
old  epitaphs,  to  adorn  his  good  old  book,  "Ancient 
Funeral  Monuments."  His  house  was  the  next  one 
northward  of  No.  8.  It  is  large,  and  double-fronted, 
and  has  fine  old  staircases,  and  foliated  ceilings. 
Weever  was  a  friend  of  Cotton  and  Selden,  and 
therefore  not  lightly  to  be  despised,  but  Antliony 
k  Wood  pronounces  him  credulous,  and  he  is  said  to 


Clerkeawell.] 


CLERKENWELL  CLOSE. 


329 


be  careless  in  his  dates.    The  following  is  Weaver's 
epitaph,  in  St.  James's,  Clerkenwell : — 

"  Lancashire  gave  me  breath, 

And  Cambridge  education ; 
Middlesex  gave  me  death, 

And  this  church  my  humation  ; 
And  Clirist  to  me  hath  given 
A  place  with  Him  in  heaven." 

In  the  Close,  opposite  the  nunnery,  according 

to  Weaver,  resided   Sir  Thomas   Challoner,  in  a 

'  '     house  which  either  Thurlow  or  Cromwell  himself 

•  afterwards  occupied.    On  the  front  of  the  mansion, 

which  stood  in  a  large  garden,  were  written  four 

Latin  lines,  which  have  been  thus  Englished  :— 

"  Chaste  faith  still  stays  behind,  though  thence  be  flown 
Those  veiled  nuns  who  here  before  did  nest, 
For  reverend  marriage  wedlock  vows  doth  own, 
And  sacred  flames  keep  here  in  loyal  breasts." 

This  Sir  Thomas  Challoner,  of  Clerkenwell  Close, 
was  a  gallant  gentleman,  who  fought  beside  the 
Emperor  Charles  V.,  in  Algiers ;  on  his  return  he 
was  made  by  Henry  VIII.  first  clerk  of  the  Council, 
and  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  he  won  the  favour 
of  the  proud  Protector  Somerset.  By  Elizabeth 
he  was  sent  as  a  trusty  ambassador  to  Ferdinand, 
Emperor  of  Germany,  and  afterwards  to  the  court 
of  Philip  of  Spain,  where  he  was  vexed  by  every 
possible  indignity.  He  returned  home  in  1564,  and 
spent  the  rest  of  his  life  quietly  in  the  Close,  com- 
pleting his  great  work,  "  The  Right  Ordering  of  the 
English  Republic,"  which  he  dedicated  to  his  friend 
Burleigh.  Sir  Thomas,  son  of  this  wise  courtier, 
married  a  daughter  of  Sir  William  Fleetwood,  the 
well-known  Recorder  of  London.  His  study  of 
science  in  Italy  enabled  hirn  to  enrich  himself  by 
the  discovery  of  alum  on  his  own  estate,  near 
Gisborough,  in  Yorkshire.  He  became  a  friend  of 
James  I.,  who  placed  Prince  Henry  under  his 
tuition,  for  which  he  received  ;!^4,ooo,  "  as  a  free 
gift."  Two  of  this  learned  man's  sons  sat  as  judges 
at  the  trial  of  Charles  I.,  and  one  was  bold  enough 
to  sign  tha  king's  death-warrant.  This  latter  Chal- 
loner Cromwell  openly  denounced  as  a  drunkard 
,  ,      when  he  dissolved  the  obstructive  Parliament. 

Near  the  Challoners,  in  the  Close,  in  the  year 
i6r9,  resided  the  fourth  Earl  of  Clanricarde.  This 
nobleman  married  the  widow  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 
At  the  Restoration  there  were  thirty-one  good 
houses  in  Clerkenwell  Close,  Sir  John  Cropley 
and  Dr.  Theophilus  Garenciers  being  the  most  dis- 
tinguished residents.  The  latter  gentleman  was  a 
Protestant  refugee  from  Normandy,  and  kindly 
taught  the  "musical  small-coal  man"  chemistry. 
He  wrote  some  books  on  tapeworms  and  tincture 
of  coral,  and  translated  the  nonsensical  prophecies 


of  Nostradamus.  In  1668  Dr.  Everard  Maynwaring 
resided  in  the  Close.  He  was  a  kinsman  of  the 
wife  of  Ashmole,  the  antiquary,  and  wrote  a  book 
to  show  that  tobacco  produced  scurvy. 

"  An  old  writer,  Aubrey,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "  who 
corhpiled  an  amusing  volume  on  the  superstitions 
of  his  countrymen,  when  treating  of  a  fatality 
believed  to  attach  to  certain  houses,  says : — '  A 
handsome  brick  house,  on  the  south  side  of 
Clerkenwell  Churchyard,  has  been  so  unlucky  for 
at  least  forty  years,  that  it  was  seldom  tenanted, 
and  at  last  nobody  would  adventure  to  take  it' 
This  was  written  in  1696.  Here  also  was  once  a 
private  madhouse,  of  which  the  public  was  apprised 
by  advertisement,  as  follows  :  —  'In  Clerkenwell 
Close,  where  the  figures  of  mad  people  are  over 
the  gate,  liveth  one  who,  by  the  blessing  of  God, 
cures  all  lunatick,  distracted,  or  mad  people.  He 
seldom  exceeds  three  months  in  the  cure  of  the 
maddest  person  that  comes  in  his  house ;  several 
have  been  cured  in  a  fortnight,  and  some  in  less 
time.  He  has  cured  several  from  Bedlam,  and 
other  madhouses  in  and  about  this  city,  and  has 
conveniency  for  people  of  what  quality  soever. 
No  cure,  no  money.'  Such  equitable  dealing  as 
this,  there  can  be  little  doubt,  secured  for  the 
proprietor  of  this  asylum  a  fair  share  of  patronage 
from  the  friends  of  the  insane." 

Newcastle  Place  was  the  site  of  old  Newcastle 
House,  built  upon  the  ruins  of  the  nunnery,  which 
had,  at  the  dissolution,  become  the  property  of  the 
Cavendish  family.  One  likes  to  believe  that  a 
curse  fell  on  those  greedy  nobles  who  stole  what 
good  and  charitable  men  had  left_in  trust  for  the 
poor,  but  that  the  trust  had  been  sometimes  abused, 
who  is  hardy  enough  to  deny  ?  But  the  abuses  of  the 
priests  could  surely  have  been  corrected  better  than 
by  confiscation.  The  duke's  garden  extended  as 
far  as  the  present  St.  James's  Walk,  and  contained 
six  arches  of  the  southern  cloister  of  the  old 
nunnery.  One  cloister  is  described  in  the  Gentle- 
man's  Magazine  of  1785  as  having  at  its  west  end 
an  arched  door  communicating  with  the  church. 
The  roof  resembled  that  of  Exeter  Cathedral,  and 
the  keystones  were  carved  into  the  form  of  flowers. 
Over  the  cloister  was  a  wareroom,  and  on  the  east 
side  of  the  garden  was  the  site  of  the  ancient 
cemetery  of  the  nuns.  In  1773,  according  to 
Noorthouck,  the  nuns'  hall,  which  still  stood  at  the 
north-east  end  of  the  cloisters,  had  been  turned 
into  a  double  range  of  workshops.  Two  bricked- 
up  arched  windows,  and  the  hood  moulding  of  a 
Gothic  doorway  are  visible  in  the  sketch  of  the 
hall  in  Crowle's  "  Pennant." 

The  Duke  of  Newcastle,  William  Cavendish,  and 


33° 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Clerkenwell. 


his  blue-Stocking  and  eccentric  wife,  Margaret,  the 
youngest  daughter  of  Sir  Charles  Lucas,  who  was 
shot  by  the  Parliamentarians  at  the  surrender  of 
Colchester,  were  the  most  memorable  residents  in 
this  great  Clerkenwell  mansion.  The  duke  was  a 
gallant  and  chivalrous  cavalier,  whose  white  regi- 
ment of  ca,valry,  generally  known  to  the  Crom- 
welUans  as  the  "  Newcastle  Lambs,"  did  good 
service  for  wilful  King  Charles  during  the  Civil 
War.  In  disgust  at  the  loss  of  the  battle  of 
Marston  Moor,  by  the  mad  rashness   of  Prince 


justice  in  Eyre,  and  Duke  of  Newcastle.  He  died 
at  his  house  at  Clerkenwell  in  1676,  aged  eigh^ty- 
four.  The  duchess,  a  female  savanie  of  the  deepest 
dye,  wrote  ten  foho  volumes  of  learned  trifles  and 
fantastic  verses.  A  footman  always  slept  on  a 
truckle  bed  in  a  closet  of  her  bedroom,. and  when- 
ever a  thought  struck  her  in  the  night,  she  used  to 
call  out,  "  John  !"  and  poor  John  had  to  scramble 
out  in  the  cold,  light  a  candle,  and  bind  the  fugitive 
fancy  fast  on  paper.  "  The  whole  story,"  writes 
Pepys,  "  of  this  lady  is  a  romance,  and  all  she  does 


BURNET   HOUSE. 


Rupert,  the  duke  retired  to  the  Continent,  and 
there,  with  his  faithful  wife,  during  eighteen  years' 
exile,  endured  many  hardships  while  lodging  at 
Antwerp,  in  a  house  which  belonged  to  the  widow 
of  Rubens.  ; 

In  the  duchess's  memoir  of  her  brave  husband,  i 
on  whom  she  doated,  and  whom  she  seems  to  have  \ 
pretty  considerably  bored,  she  states  that  at  one  [ 
time  of  their  exile  they  were  both  forced  to  "pawn  i 
their  clothes   for  a   dinner.      While   abroad    the  \ 
duke  produced  a  luxurious  folio  on  horsemanship. 
During  his  absence  the  Parliament   levied,  it   is 
computed,    ;^733)S79    on    his    estate.       At    the 
P.estoration  this  faithful  loyalist  was  made  a  chief 


is  romantic.  "April  26,  1667. — Met  my  Lady 
Newcastle,  with  her  coaclfes  and  footmen,  all  in 
velvet,  herself,  whom  I  never  saw  before,  as  I  have 
heard  her  often  described,  for  all  the  town-talk  is, 
nowadays  of  her  extravagance,' with  her  velvet  cap,, 
her  hair  about  her  ears,  many  black  patches,  because 
of  pimples  about  her  mouth,  naked-necked,  without 
anything  about  it,  and  a  black /wj^  au  corps. 

"  May  1, 1667. — She  was  in  a  black  coach,  adorned 
with  silver,  instead  of  gold,  and  snow-white  cur- 
tains, and  everything  black  and  white.  Staid  at 
home,  reading  the  ridiculous  history  of  my  Lord 
Newcastle,  wrote  by  his  wife,  which  shows  her  to 
be  a  mad,  conceited,  ridiculous  woman,  and  he  an 


Clerkenwell.] 


NEWCASTLE.  HOUSE. 


331 


asse  to  suifer  her  to  write  what  she  writes  to  him 
an(J  of  him."-  ' 

"On  the  idth  April,  1667,"  says  Mr.' Pinks, 
Charles  and  his 'queen  came  to  Clerkenwell,  on 
a  visit  to  the  duchess.  On  the  i8th,  John  Evelyn' 
went  to  make  court  to  the  noble  pair,  wlio  received 
him  with  great  kindness ;  and  another  time  he  dined 
at  Newcastle  House,  and  was  privileged  to  sit  dis- 
coursing with  her  grace  in  her  bedchamber,  after 
dinner.  *  Referring  to  her  literary  employments, 
when  writing  to  a  'HKend,  she  says,  '  You  will  find 
*       .-      ■■'*i  


which  set  the  whole  f*nily  by  the  ears.  The  Earl 
of' Thanet,  another  son-ih^law,  fought  a  duel  with 
the  Earl  of  Clare,  in  consequence,  in  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields,  in  which  both  combatants  were  wounde'd. 
Th^  Earl  of  Clare,  for  his  loyal  service  to  Wil- 
harii  III.,  was,  in  1694,  created  Duke  of  Newcastle, 
and  enjoyed  the  favour  of  Queen  Anne^ 

Newcastle  House,  at  one  period,  .was  the  re- 
sidence of  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  old  duke,  the 
Duchess  of  Albemarle,  a  woman  crazed  with  pride, 
who  married  General  Monk's  son,  and  drove  him 


NEWCASTLE  HOUSE. 


my  works,  like  infinite  Nature,  that  hath  neither 
beginning  nor  end ;  and  as  confused  as  the  chaos, 
wherein  is  neither  method  nor  order,  «but  all  mixed 
together,  without  separation,,  like  light  and  dark- 
ness.' "  It  -will  be  remembered  that  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
in  His  "  Peveril  of  the  Peak,"  has  cleverly  sketched 
the  old-fashioned  high-flbtvn  duchess,  and  con- 
trasted her  with  the  gay  and  wtoton  beauties  of 
England's  corruptest  courti  The  wise  and  foolish 
woman  died  in  1676,  and  was  buried  by'  her  hus- 
band in  Westminster  Atbey. 

Henry  Cavendish,  Master  of  the  Robes  to 
Charles  II.,  left  the  bulk  of  his  estates,  realising 
about  ;^9,ooo,  to  his  son-in-law,  the  Earl  of  Clare, 


by  her  folly  to  a  liquid  remedy,  which  killed  him 
in  his  youth.  At  his  death  the  duchess  was  so 
immensely  wealthy,  that  pride  .crazed  her,  and  she 
vowed  never  to  marry  any  one  but  a  sovereign 
prince.  In  1692  the  Earl  of  Montague,  disguising 
■himself  as  the  Emperor  of  China,  -  won  the  mad 
woman,  whom  he  then  kept  in  constant  confine- 
ment, at  Montague  House  (the  site  of  the  British 
Museum).  She  survived  her  second  husband  thirty 
years,  and  at  Jast  died  at  Newcastle  House,  in 
1734,  aged  ninety-six  years.  Her  body  lay  in  state 
in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  Westminster  Abbey, 
and  at  niidnight  was  privately  interred  near  her 
father-in-law.    General    Monk,   in   Henry   VII.'s 


332 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Clerkenwell. 


Chapel.  It  is  said  that  up  to  the  time  of  this  mad 
woman's  decease  she  was  always  served  on  the 
knee,  as  if  she  had  really  been  the  empress  she 
believed  herself. 

Newcastle  House,  in  Pennant's  time,  was  a 
cabinet-maker's,  and  the  garden  was  strewn  with 
the  defaced  monuments  of  Prior  Weston,  and 
other  wortliies.  About  1793  Mr.  Carr,  who  built 
the  present  church  of  St.  James,  erected  on  the 
site  of  the  duke's  mansion  the  row  of  houses  called 
Newcastle  Place.  Every  trace  of  the  convent  then 
disappeared,  except  a  small  portion  of  a  wall,  the 
jamb  of  a  Gothic  window  of  the  nuns'  hall  (now 
the  side  wall  of  a  house  at  the  north  end  of  New- 
dastle  Street).  The  old  house  was  a  sombre,  mono- 
tonous brick  structure,  having  its  upper  storey 
adorned  with  stone  pilasters.  The  east  and  west 
wings  stood  forward,  and  there  was  a  large  court- 
yard in  front. 

Clerkenwell  Green,  long  gay  enough,  was,  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  according  to  that  admirable 
chronicler  of  the  parish,  Mr.  Pinks,  environed  by 
mansions  of  the  noble  and  rich.  In  Roques's  huge 
Map  of  London  in  1747  there  were  lofty  trees  on 
either  side  of  the  Green,  and  two  at  the  nordi-east 
corner  of  Aylesbury  Street.  The  last  tree  on  the 
north  side  of  the  Green,  says  Mr.  Pinks,  was  blown 
down  in  July,  1796.  The  old  pillory,  where  Mr. 
John  Britton  had  seen  a  man  fastened  and  pelted, 
used  to  stand  on  the  western  slope  of  the  Green, 
near  the  bottom,  and  in  1787  a  woman  who  had 
committed  perjury  was  nearly  killed  at  this  place 
of  punishment.  A  turnstile  stood  at  the  entrance 
of  the  close,  prior  to  the  houses  being  taken  dowa 
to  form  a  better  approach  to  the  church.  A  raised 
circle  of  stone  with  lamp-posts,  near  the  middle  of 
the  green,  and  close  to  the  drinking -fountain, 
marks,  says  the  best  of  the  local  historians,  the 
spot  where  the  old  watch-house  once  stood. 

On  the  north  side  of  the  Green,  a  low  brick 
house,  now  divided  into  three  shops,  was  formerly 
the  Welsh  Charity  School,  founded  in  1718.  The 
house  was  built  in  1737,  and  the  charity  removed 
to  the  Gray's  Inn  Road  in  1772,  and  after  that  fo 
Ashford,  near  Windsor.  There  used  to  be  a 
painted  figure  of  a  Welsh  boy  in  a  niche  in  the 
front  of  the  school.  Pennant,  a  warm-hearted 
Welshman,  intended  to  have  deVoted  the  profits  of 
his  great  work  on  "  British  Zoology  "  to  this  school, 
but  its  expenses,  were  so  great  that  he  was  unable 
to  do  so,  and  he  gave  instead  the  sum  of  ;^ioo. 

Of  the  chief  residents  of  Clerkenwell  Green  we 
can  only  select  the  most  eminent.  Amongst  these 
we  may  mention  Sir  Richard  Chevertofl,  the  Lord 
Mayor  in   1657,  who  proclaimed  Richard  Crom- 


well Protector.  He  lived  long,  and  was  styled  the 
Father  of  the  City.  Sir  William  Bolton,  an  alder- 
main,  knighted  by  Charles  II.,  also  resided  on  the 
Green,  and  in  1670  we  find,  in  the  list  of  rich 
residents,  Sir  William  Bowles,  Bart.,  Sir  Edward 
Smith,  and  Lady  Windham. 

Above    all    these    aldermen    and  custos  rotu- 
lorums,    rejoice,   Clerkenwell,   because  that  good 
and  gentle  spirit,  Izaac  Walton,  once  lived  in  thy 
midst,  and  often  faced  his  guileless  path,  ponder- 
ing on  mighty  barbel  in  the  m^iddy  depths  of  the 
pleasant  river   Lea.    On   his  retirement  from  the 
snug  little   linendrapers'   shops,   first   at  the   Ex- 
change and  then  in  Fleet  Street,  Walton,  before 
the   year    1650,    says   Sir    Harris    Nicholas,   took 
a  house"  at    Clerkenwell.      That  delightful  book, 
"The   Compleat  Angler;  or,  tlie   Contemplative 
Man's   Recreation,"   sold  by  Richard   Marriot,  in 
St.   Dunstan's  Churchyard,  Fleet  Street,  appeared* 
in    1653.      The   good,   pious  old  fisherman  lived 
at   Clerkenwell,    it  is   supposed,   till  i66t.      He 
went  to  Worcester  after   that,  and  died  at  Win- 
chester,  at   the   house  of   a   son-in-law  of  his,  a 
prebendary,  in  1683.     In  his  will   the  worthy  old 
man  left   forty-two  mourning-rings  to  his  friends, 
and  (could  human  forgiveness  go  further?)  _;^io  to 
his  publisher,  Richard  Marriot. 

George  Sawbridge,  an  eminent  bookseller^ of 
1670,  who  published  a  book  by  Culpeper,  tiie 
herbalist,  also  dwelt  on  Clerkenwell  Green.  He  left 
;^4o,ooo  to  be  divided  among  his  four  daughters. 
Elias  Ashmole  records  that  he  was  a  friend  of 
Lilly,  the  sham  astrologer. 

Jack  Adams,  a  Clerkenwell  simpleton,  who  lived 
on  the  Green,  became  a  notorious  street  character  , 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.     This  half  fool,  half  ' 
knave  (like  many  of  Shakespeare's  jesters)  is  con- 
stantly mentioned  in  pamphlets  of  Charles  IL's 
reign.     In  an  old  work,  called  "  The  Wits ;  or.  Sport 
upon  Sport"  (published  in  1682),  the  writer  de- 
scribes the  excellent  comedians  at  the  Red  Bull 
Theatre,  in  Red  Bull  Yard,  now  Woodbridge  Street. 
On  one  occasion,  when  Robert  Cox,  a  celebrated      : 
low  comedian^  played  "Simpleton  the  Smith,"  he    .• 
used  to  come  in  munching  a  huge  slice  of  bread- 
and-butter  ;  Jack  Adams,  seeing  it,  cried  out,  "Cuz, 
cuz,  give  me  some  !  give  me  some  !"  to  the  great 
amusement  of  all   the   spectators.  ,    This  Adams 
seems  to  have  turned  astrologer  and  fortune-teller. 
You  got  a  better  fortune  iroin  him  for  five  guineas 
than  for  five  shillings,  and  he  appears  to  have  been 
as  willing  to  cheat  as  his  dupes  were  to  be  cheated. 
T^he  conjuror  of  Clerkenwell  seems,  after  this,  to 
have  generally  adopted  this  popular  name.     There 
is  an  old  print  of  Jack  Adams,  in  which  he  is  repre- 


cierk«.«eu.  RICHARD   BROTHERS  AND   CHRISTOPHER  PINCHBECK. 


333 


sented  with  a  tobacco-pipe  in  his  girdle,  standing 
by  a  table,  on  which  lies  a  horn-book  and  "  Poor 
Robin's  Almanac." 

In  1644,  during  the  Civil  Wars,  Lady  Bullock's 
house,  on  Clerkenwell  Green,  was  attacked  by  sol- 
diers, who  stole  'fifty  pieces  of  gold,  and  tore  five 
rich  rin^s  from  her  ladyship's  fingers.  Dr.  Sibbald, 
the  incumbent  of  Clerkenwell,  who  resided  near, 
remonstrated  with  the  Parhamentary  soldiers  from 
his  window,  but  the  only  reply  was  three  musket- 
bullets  at  his  head,  which  they  narrowly  missed. 
A  servant  of  Lady  Bullock's  was  wounded  by  the 
soldiers. 

In  1844  the  Lamb  and  Flag  Ragged  School  was 
estabhshed  on  Clerkenwell  Green.  Since  that  time 
day-schools,  night-schools,  and  Sunday-schools  have 
been  added  to  it. 

At  the  comer  of  Ashby  Street,  which  leads  from 
St.  John's  Street  Road  to  Northampton  Square, 
stands  the  old  manor  house  of  Clerkenwell,  the 
residence  of  the  Northampton  family  till  nearly 
the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The  first 
baron  was  Sir  Henry  Compton,  of  Warwickshire, 
summoned  to  Parliament  among  ^  the  nobles  in 
1572  (Ehzabeth).  The  second  Lord  Compton  was 
created  Earl  of  Northampton  in  16 18  (James  I.), 
and  also  K.G.  and  Lord  President  of  the  Marches 
and  Dominions  of  Wales. 

How  that  nobleman  carried  off  the  daughter  of 
rich. Lord  Mayor  Spencer,  in  a  baker's  basket,  from 
Canonbury,  we  have  before  related.  The  wife  of 
the  second  earl  had  the  courage  to  attend  her  lord 
to  the  battle  of  Edgehill,  where  she  witnessed  the 
daring  and  danger  of  her  three  Cavalier  sons. 
Spencer  Compton  fell  at  the  battle  ot  Hopton 
Heath,  in  1643.  The  third  earl  resided  at  Clerken- 
well in  1677 ;  his  estates,  which  had  been  con- 
fiscated, were  returned  to  him  at  the  Restoration. 
He  is  said  to  have  had  a  troop  of  200  retainers, 
who  wore  his  livery  of  blue  and  grey,  and  he  was 
one  ot  the  king's  Privy  Council  and  Constable  of 
the  Tower.  This  earl's  youngest  brother,  after 
being  a  cornet '  of  horse,  was  made  Bishop  of 
London,  and  was  entrusted  with  the  education  of 
the  Princesses  Mary  and  Ann.  After  being  sus- 
pended by  James  II.,  he  performed  the  coronation 
service  for  William  of  Orange,  and  was  appointed 
one  of  the  commissioners  for  revising  the  Liturgy. 
His  toleration  of  Dissenters  rendered  him  un- 
popular with  the  Tories.  He  died  in  1 7 13.  Joshua 
Alwyne  Spencer,  the  tenth  earl,  was  the  President 
of  the  Royal  Society. 

At  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  the  old 
manor-house  of  the  Spencers  was  converted  into  a 
private  lunatic  asylum,  by  Dr.  Newton.     Thoresby, 


the    Leeds   historian,    speaks    doubtfully   of   this 
doctor's  honesty.     He  published  ?,  herbal,  which 
Cave  printed,  and  seems  to  have  had  a  botanic 
garden  behind  the  madhouse.      It  was  here  that 
strange  fanatic  and  false  prophet,  Richard  Brothers, 
was  confined.     This  man  had  been  a  lieutenant  in 
the   Royal    Navy,  but  left  the    service  in    1789, 
and  refusing,  from  conscientious  Scruples,  to  take 
the    necessary  oath,   he   lost   his    half-pay.      He 
then  became  poor,   and  had  to  take  refuge  in  a 
workhouse.     In  1790  he  became  insane,  believed 
himself  a  prophet  sent  from  God,  and  warned  all 
who  called  him  mad,  an  impostor,  or  a  devil,  that 
they  were  guilty  of  blasphemy.     In  1792  he  sent 
letters  to  the  king,  the  ministers,  and  the  speaker; 
saying  he  was  ordered  by  God  to  go  to  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  inform  the  members,  for  their 
safety,  that  the  time  was  come  for  the  fulfilment  of 
the  seventh  chapter  of  Daniel.     He  went  accord- 
ingly, and  met  witir  the  rough  reception  that  might 
have  been  expected.     Soon  after  Brothers  prophe- 
sied the  death  of  King  George,  the  overthrow  of  the 
monarchy,  and  the  delivery  of  the  crown  into  his 
own  hands,  which,  being  treasonable,  he  was  sent 
to  Newgate.     On  his  release,  he  persuaded  many 
weak  people   to  sell  their  goods  and  prepare   to 
accompany  him,  in  1795,  to  the  New  Jerusalem, 
which  was  to  be  built  on  both  sides  of  the  river 
Jordan,  and  to  become  the  capital  of  the  world. 
In   1798  the  Jews  were  to  be  restored,  and    he 
was  to  be  revealed  as  their  prince  and  ruler,  and 
the  governor  of  all  nations,  a  post  for  which  Brothers 
had  even  refused  the  divine  offer  of  the  Chancel- 
lorship of  the  Exchequer.     Brothers  at  last  got  too 
troublesome,  even  for  English  toleration,  and  was 
confined   as   a   lunatic  in    Clerkenwell;    he   was 
released  in  1806,  by  the  zealous   intercession  of 
his  great  disciple,  John  Finlayson,  with  whonj  he 
afterwards  resided  for  nine  years.     Brothers  died 
suddenly,    of  cholera,  in    1824.      His  last  words 
were  addressed  to  Finlayson,  asking  if  his  sword 
and  hammer  were  ready,  referring  to  the  building 
of  the  New  Jerusalem.      In  1817  the  old  manor- 
hoTise  was  turned  into  a  ladies'  boarding-school. 

Albemarle  Street  was  so  called  from  General 
Monk,  Duke  of  Albemarle,  during  whose  popularity 
the  street  was  built.  Albion  Place  was  erected  in 
1822.  In  this  street,  in  172T,  lived  Christopher 
Pinchbeck,  an  inventor  of  "astronomico-musical 
clocks,"  and  the  peculiar  compound  metal  to  which 
he  gave  the  name.  We  have  already  briefly  men- 
tioned this  ingenious  man  in  our  chapter  on  Fleet 
Street.  Pinchbeck  made  musical  automata  that 
played  tunes  and  imitated  birds,  like  the  curious 
Black  Forest  clocks  now  so  familiar  to  us.      He 


334 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


tClerkenwell. 


also  sold  self-playing  organs,  to  save  the  expense 
of  organists  in  country  churches,  and  he  also  con- 
descended to  mend  clocks  and  watches. 

Miss  Ray,  that  unfortunate  mistress  of  Lord 
Sandwich,  who  was  shot  by  her  lover,  Hackman, 
the  clergyman,  served  her  time  with  a  mantua- 
maker  in  St.  George's  Court,  Albion  Place.  A 
pleasant  memory  of  those  dehghtful  old  en- 
gravers, the  Bewicks,  is  also  associated  with  St. 
George's  Court,  for  here,  about  1780,  lived  a  book- 
seller named  Hodgson,  for  whom  they  worked. 
In  the  same  obscure  yet  honoured  localitjr  also 
lived  that  sturdy  old  antiquary.  Dr.  Thomas  Birch, 
the  son  of  a  Quaker  coffee-mill  maker,  of  Clerken- 
well.  Birch  eventually,  after  being  usher  to  Mr. 
Besse,  a  Quaker  in  St  George's  Court,  took  orders 
in  the  Church  of  England,  and  married  the  daughter 
of  a  clergyman.  Lord  Hardwick  patronised  him, 
and  in  1734  he  became  domestic  chaplain  to  the 
unfortunate  Jacobite  Earl  of  Kilmarnock,  who, 
joining  in  the  luckless  rebelHon  of  '45,  was  be- 
headed on  Tower  Hill.  In  1743  he  was  presented 
to  the  united  rectories  of  St.  Michael,  Wood 
Street,  and  St.  Mary  Staining.  He  worked  much 
for  Cave,  and  was  killed  by  a  fall  from  his  horse, 
near  Hampstead,  in  1760.  He  bequeathed  his 
valuable, library  and  manuscripts  to  the  British 
Museum,  and  the  residue  of  his  small  property 
to  increase  the  salaries  of  the  three  assistant 
librarians. 

Aylesbury  Street,  says  Mr.  Pinks,  is  so  called 
because  in  old  times  the  geUden-wall  of  the  house 
of  the  Earls  of  Aylesbury  skirted  the  south  side  of 
the  thoroughfare.  Aylesbury  House  was  probably 
a  name  given  to  part  of  the  old  Priory  of  St. 
John,  where  the  Earls  of  Elgin  and  Aylesbury 
resided  about  1641.  Robert  Bruce,  second  Earl  of 
Elgin,  who  lived  here  in  167 1,  was  a  devoted 
Cavalier,  and  an  ardent  struggler  for  the  Restora- 
tion, and  was  made  Earl  of  Aylesbury  in  1663  by 
that  not  usually  very  grateful  king,  Charles  II., 
to  whom  he  was  privy  councillor  and  gentleman 
of  the  bedchamber.  At  the  coronation  of  that  unto- 
ward monarch,  James  II.,  the  Earl  of  Aylesbuiry 
bore  in  procession  St.  Edward's  staff,  eight  pounds 
nine  ounces  in  weight,  and  supposed  by  credulous 
persons  to  contain  a  piece  of  the  true  cross.  The 
earl  died  in  1685,  the  year  he  had  been  appointed 
Lord  Chamberlain  of  the  Royal  Household. 
Anthony  h  Wood  sums  up  the  earl  as  a  good  his- 
torian and  antiquary,  a  friend  to  the  clergy,  and 
a  "  curious  collector  of  manuscripts." 

But  a  far  more  interesting  resident  in  Aylesbury 
Street  was  Thomas  Britton,  the  "musical  small- 
coal  man,"  who,  though  a  mere  itinerant  vendor 


of  small  coal,  cultivated  the  highest  branches  of 
music,  and  drew  round  him  for  years  all  the  great 
musicians   of  the  day,    including   even   the  giant 
Handel.      This    singular    and    most    meritorious 
person,  born  in  Northamptonshire,  brought  up  to 
the   coal  trade,   and  coming  to  London,  took  a 
small  stable  at  the  south-east  comer  of  Jerusalem 
Passage,  on  the  site  now  occupied  by  the  "  Bull's 
Head"  public-house,  and  commenced  his  humble 
business.     His  coal  he  kept  below,  and  he  lived 
in  a  single  room  above,  which  was  ascended  by 
an    external    ladder.      From   Dr.  Garenciers,  his   '  '  ' ' 
neighbour,    this   active -minded    man    obtained  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  practical  chemistry,  and  in 
his  spare  time  he  acquired  an  extensive  practical 
and  theoretical  knowledge  of  music.     This  simple- 
minded  man  founded  a  musical  club,  which  met 
at   his   house   for  nearly  forty  years,  and  at  first 
gave   gratuitous   concerts,  afterwards   paid  for  by 
an  annual  subscription  of  ten  shillings,  coffee  being 
sold  to  his  distinguished  visitors  at  a  penny  a  cup. 
The  idea  of  the  club  is  said  to  have  been  first 
suggested  by  Sir  Roger  I'Estrange.     Dr.  Pepusch, 
or  the  great  Handel,  played  the  harpsichord;  Ban- 
nister, or  Medler,  the  first  violin.     Hughes,  a  poet, 
and  Woolaston,  a  painter,  were  also  members,  while 
Britton  himself  played  excellently  on  the  viol  di 
gamba.     The  musical  invitation  to  these  concerts 
ran  thus  : — 

"  Upon  Thursdays  repair  to  my  palace,  and  there 
Hobble  up  stair  by  stair,  but  I  pray  you  take  care 
That  you  break  not  your  shins  by  a  stumble  ; 
And  without  e'er  a  souse,  paid  to  me  or  my  spouse,     » 
Sit  still  as  a  mouse  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
And  there  you  shall  hear  how  we  fumble." 

Britton's  friend,  Ned  Ward,  describes  these  plea- 
sant Thursday  evening  concerts,  which,  he  says, 
were  as  popular  as  the  evenings  of  the  Kit-Cat  Club, 
and  that  Britton,  in  his  blue  frock,  with  a  measure 
twisted  into  the  mouth  of  his  sack,  was  as  much 
respected  as  if  he  had  been  a  nobleman  in  disguise. 

"Britton,"  says  our  Clerkenwell  historian,  "be- 
sides being  a  musician,  was  a  bibliomaniac,  and 
collector  of  rare  old  books  and  manuscripts,  from 
which  fact  we  may  infer  that  he  had  cultivated 
some  acquaintance  with  literature.  It  often 
happened  that,  on  Saturdays,  when  some  of  these 
literati  were  accustomed  to  meet  at  the  shop  of 
one  Christopher  Bateman,  a  bookseller,  at  the 
corner  of  Ave  Maria  Lane,  Paternoster  Row, 
Britton,  who  had  usually  completed  his  morning 
round  by  twelve  o'clock  at  noon,  would,  despite  his 
smutty  appearance  and  blue  smock,  after  pitching 
his  sack  of  small  coal  on  the  bulk  of  Bateman's 
shop,  join  the  literary  conclave,  and  take  part  in 


Clerkenwell.] 


"SALLY  IN   OUR  ALLEY." 


33S 


the  conversation,  which  generally  lasted  an  hour. 
Often  as  he  walked  the  streets  some  one  who  knew 
him  would  point  him  out,  and  exclaim,  'There 
goes  the  small-coal  man,  who  is  a  lover  of  learning, 
a  performer  of  music,  and  a  companion  for  gentle- 
men.' The  cii'cum  stances  of  Britton's  death  are 
as  remarkable  as  those  of  his  life ;  he  was  literally 
frightened  out  of  his  life  by  a  practical  joke  which 
was  played  on  him  by  one  Robe,  a  justice  of  the 
peace,  and  a  frequenter  of  his  concerts,  who  one 
day  introduced  as  his  friend  a  man  who  had  the 
sobriquet  of  the  'Talking  Smith,'  but  whose  real 
name  was  Honeyman.  This  man  possessed  the 
power  of  ventriloquism,  and  when  he  saw  Britton 
he,  by  a  preconcerted  arrangement,  announced  in 
a  solemn  voice,  which  seemed  to  come  from  a  long 
distance,  the  death  of  Britton  in  a  few  hours^  unless 
he  immediately  fell  upon  his  knees  and  repeated 
the  Lord's  Prayer.  Britton,  in  the  terror  of  his 
soul,  instinctively  obeyed ;  but  the  chord  of  his  life 
was  unstnmg  by  this  sudden  shock.  A  brief  illness 
supervened,  and  in  a  few  days  he  died.  His  death 
occurred  in  September,  17 14,  when  he  was  upwards 
of  sixty  years  of  age.  On  the  ist  of  October  his 
remains  were  followed  to  the  grave  by  a  great  con- 
course of  people,  and  interred  in  St.  James's 
churchyard."  Though  Britton  was  honest  and 
upright,  ill-natured  people,  says  Walpole,  called 
him  a  Jesuit  and  an  atheist,  and  said  that  the 
people  attended  his  meetings  to  talk  sedition  and 
practise  magic.  At  his  death  the  worthy  small- 
coal  man  left  1,400  books,  twenty-seven  fine 
musical  instruments,  and  some  valuable  music. 

Berkeley  Street,  formerly  called  Bartlett  Street, 
was  so  named  from  its  chief  pride,  Berkeley  House, 
which  stood  at  the  corner  facing  St.  John's  Lane. 
The  advanced  wings  of  the  mansion  enclosed  a 
spacious  forecourt,  and  at  the  rear  was  a  large 
garden.  Sir  Maurice  Berkeley,  who  lived  here,  was 
standard-bearer  to  Henry  VIII.,  Edward  VI.,  and 
Queen  Elizabeth.  He  it  was  who,  when  Sir 
Thomas  Wyatt  was  beaten  back  from  Ludgate  to 
Temple  Bar,  yet  would-  not  surrender,  induced 
Wyatt  to  mount  behind  him  on  his  horse,  and  ride 
to  Whitehall.  In  this  house  lived  and  died  that 
pious  Earl  Berkeley,  who,  in  Charles  II.'s  time  was 
called  "George  the  Traveller,"  and  "George  the 
Linguist."  The  first  Earl  of  Berkeley  obtained  the 
title  of  Viscount  Dursley  and  Earl  of  Berkeley 
as  a  reward  for  his  loyalty  to  Charles  II.  When 
the  English  prisoners  were  to  be  released  from 
Algiers  he  ofi'ered  to  advance  the  money  for  their 
redemption.  He  bestowed  on  Sion  College  a 
valuable  librar}',  and  he  wrote  some  religious 
meditations,  which   obtained    for    him  a   eulogy 


firom  Waller.  He  died  in  1698.  His  second 
daughter.  Lady  Theophila,  married  the  pious  and 
learned  Robert  Nelson,  author  of  "Fasts  land 
Festivals."  At  what  period  Berkeley  House  was 
pulled  down  is  unknown,  but  in  the  year  1856  a 
moulded  brick,  stamped  with  a  lyre,  supposed 
to  be  a  rehc  of  the  old  mansion,  was  found  in 
Berkeley  Street. 

At  the  south-east  end  of  Ray  Street,  a  broken 
iron  pump,  let  into  the  front  wall  of  a  dilapidated 
tenement,  says  Mr.  Pinks,  marks,  as  nearly  as  pos- 
sible, the  site  of  the  old  Clerks'  Well,  used  by  the 
brothers  of  St.  John  and  the  Benedictine  nuns,  and 
the  place  where,  as  the  old  chronicler  says,  the 
London  parish  clerks  performed  their  miracle  plays. 
In  Stow's  time  this  fine  spring  was  cared  for  and 
sheltered  with  stone.  In  Aggas's  map  (about  1560) 
there  is  a  conduit-house  at  the  .south-west  comer 
of  the  boundary  wall  of  St.  Mary's  nunnery,  and 
the  water  falls  into  an  oblong  trough,  which  is 
enclosed  by  a  low  wall.  In  1673  the  Earl  of  North- 
ampton gave  this  spring  for  the  use  of  the  poor  of 
the  parish  of  St.  James,  but  it  was  at  once  let  to  a 
brewer.  Strype,  writing  about  1720,  describes  the 
well  as  at  the  right-hand  side  of  a  lane  which  led 
from  Clerkenwell  to  Hockley-in-the-Hole,  and  it 
was  then  enclosed  by  a  high  wall,  which  had  been 
built  to  bound  Clerkenwell  Close.  Hone,  in  1823, 
writing  of  the  mystery  plays  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
points  out  that  as  the  priory  stood  about  half  way 
down  the  slope  from  Clerkenwell  Green  to  the 
Fleet,  people  stationed  on  the  rising  ground  near 
could  have  easily  seen  the  quaint  performances 
at  the  well.  Near  the  pump,  erected  in  1800,  to 
mark  the  old  well,  stood  one  of  the  parish  watch- 
houses,  erected  in  1794- 

Vineyard  Walk,  Clerkenwell,  is  supposed  to  mark 
the  site  of  one  of  the  old  priory  viileyards.  The 
ground  was  called  the  Mount,  and  against  the 
western  slopes  grew  vines,  row  above  row,  there 
being  a  small  cottage  at  the  top.  It  existed  in  this 
form  as  late  as  1752.  There  was  also  a  vineyard 
in  East  Smithfield  as  late  as  the  reign  of  Stephen. 
It  is  said  that  the  soil  of  this  Mount  Pleasant  was 
sold,  in  1765,  for  ;^io,ooo. 

That  remarkable  man,  Henry  Carey,  the  author 
of  "  Sally  in  our  Alley,"  one  of  the  very  prettiest  of 
old  London  love  songs,  lived  and  died  at  his  house 
in  Great  Warner  Street.  Carey,  by  profession  a 
music-master  and  song-writer  for  Sadler's  Wells, 
was  an  illegitimate  son  of  the  Marquis  of  Hahfax, 
who  presented  the  crown  to  William  III.  He  was 
for  long  supposed  to  have  written  "  God  Save  the 
King,"  but  the  composition  has  now  been  traced 
much  further  back.      The  origin  of  Carey's  great 


.?36 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Clerkenwell. 


Clerkiinw=ll.] 


THE  RED  BULL  THEATRICAL  COMPANY. 


337 


hit,  "Sally  in  our  Alley,"  was  a  'prentice  day's 
holiday,  witnessed  by  Carey  himself.  A  shoe- 
maker's 'apprentice  making  holiday  with  his  sweet- 
heart, trea.ted  her  with  a  sight  of  Bedlam,  the 
puppet-shows,  the  flying  chairs  (ups  and  downs), 
and  all  the  elegancies  of  Moorfields,  and  from 
thence  proceeding  to  the  Farthing  Pye  House,  he 
gave  her  a  collation  of  buns,  cheesecakes,  stuffed 
beef,  and  bottled  ale ;  through  all  of  which  scenes 
the  author  dodged  them.     Charmed  with  the  sun- 


Edward  AUeyn,  founder  of  Dulwicl;  College,  played 
here  in  1617.  In  1627  we  find  the  king's  com- 
pany obtaining  an  injunction  from  the  Master  of 
the  Revels,  forbidding  the  use  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  by  the  Red  Bull  company.  Some  of  the 
earliest  female  perfonners  upon  record  in  this 
country  appeared  at  the  Red  Bull.  The  theatre 
was  rebuilt  and  enlarged  in  1633,  when  it  was, 
probably  for  the  first  time,  roofed  in,  and  decorated 
somewhat  elaborately,  the  management  particularly 


THE  OLD  CHURCH   OF   ST,  JAMES,    CLERKENWELL. 


I^icify  of  their  courtship,  he  wrote  his  charming 
song  of  "Sally  in  our  Alley,"  which  has  beeii 
well  described  as  one  of  the  most  perfect  little 
pictures  of  humble  life  in  the  language.  Reduced 
to  poverty  or  despair  by  some  unknown  cause, 
Carey  hung  himself  in  1743-  Ot^ly  ^  halfpenny 
wasffound  in  his  pocket. 

The  Red  Bull  Theatre,  a  house  as  well  known,  in 
Elizabeth's  time,  as  the  Globe  or  the  Fortune,  stood 
at  thie  south-west  comer  of  what  was  afterwards 
a  distillery,  in  Woodbridge  Street.  At  the  com- 
mencement of  the  reign  of  James  I.  the  queen's 
servants,  who  had  been  the  Earl  of  Worcester's 
players,  performed  at  this  house.  In  1613,  George 
Wither,  the  poet,  speaks  disparagingly  of  the  place. 
77— Vol.  II. 


priding  itself  on  a  stage  curtain  of  "  pure  Naples 
sjlk."  We  find  Carew,  in  some  commendatory 
lines  on  a  play  of  Davenant's,  denouncing  the 
Red  Bull  performances  as  bombast  and  non- 
sense. 

During  the  Commonwealth,  when  the  victorious 
zealots  prohibited  stage  plays,  the  Red  Bull  com- 
pany were  permitted  to  produce  drolls  and  farces. 
From  a  print  dated  1622  we  see  that  the  stage 
was  at  that  time  lighted  by,  chandeliers,  and  that 
'there  were  boxes  for  spectators  behind  the  actors. 
At  the  Restoration  the  king's  players  acted  for 
a  few  days  at  the  Red  Bull,  and  then  went  to  a 
new  playhouse  built  for  them  in  Vere  Street,  Clare 
Market.     Pepys  speaks  of  the  Red  Bull  as  a  low 


33^ 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


tCIerkenweli. 


theatre,  and  the  performance  as  bad.  The  house 
closed  in  1663,  and  was  then  turned  into  a  fencing- 
school.  ' 

In  the  same  street  as  the  Red  Bull  Theafre, ,  in 
Queen  Aime's  reign,  Ned  Ward,  a  coarse  but 
clever  writer  we  have  often  quoted,  kept  a  public- 
house.  In  his  poetical  address  to  the  public  he 
says,  with  indistinct  reference  to  the  Red  Bull 
Theatre — 

"  There,  on  that  ancient,  venerable  ground. 
Where  Shakespeare  in  heroic  buskins  trod, 
Within  a  good  old  fabrick  may  be  found 

Celestial  liquors,  fit  to  charm  a  god  ; 
Rich  nectar,  royal  punch,  and  home-brewed  ale, 

Such  as  our  fathers  drank  in  time  of  yore. 
****** 

Commodious  room,  with  Hampstead  air  supplied. 
*  *  #  *  «  # 

No  bacchanalian  ensigns  at  the  door, 
To  give  the  public  notice,  are  displayed, 

Yet  friends  are  welcome.    We  shall  say  no  more, 
But  hope  their  friendship  will  promote  a  trade.". 

Ward,  who  retorted  an  attack  of  Pope's  in  the 
"  Dunciad,''  was,  as  we  have  mentioned,  a  friend  of 
the  musical  coal-man,  and  at  his  public-house 
Britton's  books  and  musical  instruments  were  sold 
after  his  death. 

The  old  church  of  St.  James,  Clerkenwell,  was 
only  a  fragment  in  Stow's  time.  No.  22  in  the 
Close  was  the  original  rectory  house.  The  church 
was  sold  in  1656  to  trustees  for  the  parish. 
The  steeple  fell  down  in  1623,  after  having  stood 
for  five  centuries,  and,  being  badly  rebuilt,  fell 
again,  when  nearly  repaired,  the  bells  breaking 
in  the  roof  and  gallery,  and  all  the  pews.  There 
was  no  organ  in  the  church  till  within  sixty  years 
of  its  demolition.'  The  old  building  was  pulled 
down  in  1788,  and  a  fine  monument  of  Sir  William 
Weston,  the  last  prior  of  St.  John's,  was  sold  to 
Sir  George  Booth,  aijd  removed  to  Burleigh.  The 
prior's  effigy  represented  a  skeleton.  There  was 
also  a.  fine  brass  over  the  monument  of  Dr.  John 
Bell,  Bishop  of  Worcester  in  the  time  of  Henry 
VIII.,  to  whom  it  is  said  he  acted  as  secretary. 
He  was  engaged  by  the  king  in  the  matter  of  his 
divorce  from  Catherine  of  Arragon  and  Anne  of 
Cleves.  He  was  buried,  says  Green,  the  historian 
of  Worcestershire,  "like  a  bishop,  with  mitre  and 
odours,  things  that  belong  "to  a  bishop,  with  two 
white  branches,  two  dozen  staves,  torches,  and  four 
great  tapers,  near  the  al-tar,"  in  the  old  .church  of 


St.  James,  Clerkenwell.  On  the  north  side^f  the 
church  stood  a  costly  stone  altar-tomb,  with  Corin- 
thian pillars,  to  the  memory  of  Lady  Elizabeth 
Berkeley,  whose  effigy  lay  in  state,  with  the  head  of 
a  negro  at  her  feet.  This  lady  was  a  gentlewoman 
to  the  Princess  EUzabeth,  in  the  Tower,  and  re- 
fusing to  go  to  mass,  was  so  threatened  that  she 
was  compelled  to  fly  to  Geneva,  where  she  re- 
mained till  the  death  of  the  persecuting  Mary. 
There  was  also  the  monument  of  Thomas  Beding- 
field,  one  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  gentlemen  pen- 
sioners, the  son  of  that  worthy  Governor  of  the 
Tower  who  treated  EUzabeth  with  such  kindness 
and  forbearance  when,  in  her  earlier  years,  she  was 
a  prisoner  in  his  care. 

The  old  church  also  contained  a  marble  tablet, 
affixed  to  a  chancel  pillar,  to  the  memory  of  that 
patieiit  old  antiquary,  John  Weever,  who  collected 
a  great  volume  of  epitaphs  and  inscriptiono.  A 
tomb  to  the  memory  of  Elizabeth,  Countess  of 
Exeter,  who  married  the  grandson  of  the  famous. 
Burleigh,  and  died  in  1653,  is  now  in  the  vaults  of  the 
new  church.  On  a  painted  board  near  this  tomb  it 
was  stated  that  the  venerable  countess  was  grand- 
mother to  thirty-two  children,  and  great-grandmother 
to  thirty-three.  In  the  old  chapter-house,  which  had 
been  turned  into  a  vestry,  was  buried  Sir  Thomas 
Holt,  father  of  the  famous  Lord  Chief  Justice  Holt. 
Near  the  south-east  corner  of  the  church  was  a 
black  and  white  marble  monument,  which  had 
been  erected  in  memory  of  George  Strode,  an  old 
Cavalier  officer,  and  a  great  benefactor  to  the  poor 
cf  Clerkenwell. 

The  new  church  of  St.  James,  which  cost  nearly 
;^i  2,000,  was  consecrated  by  Bishop  Porteus,  iii 
1792.  The  chtirch.  contains  several  interesting 
monuments,  including  one  erected  to  the  memory 
of  Bishop  Burnet,  in  17 15,  who,  as  we  have  already 
stated,  was  buried  beneath  the  altar  in  the  old 
church.  The  plain  blue  slab,  carved  with  his  arms, 
surrounded  by  the  garter,  is  now  preserved  in  the 
vault.  Against  the  wall,  on  the  gallery  staircase, 
is  a  memorial  stone  to  the  famous  Clerkenwell 
archer.  Sir  William  Wood,  captain  of  the  Finsbury 
archers,  who  died  in  169I-  He  was  the  wearer  of 
many  a  prize-badge,  and  the  author  of  "  The  Bow- 
maji's  Glory,"  a  curious  little  book  in  praise  6f 
archery.  He  lived  to  the  age  of  eighty-two,  and 
three  flights  of  whistling  arrows  were  discharged 
over  his  grave. 


Smithfield.] 


GAY   DAYS   AND    DARK   DAYS    IN    SMITHFIELi;. 


339 


CHAPTER    XL  II. 


SMITHFIELD. 

Bartholomew  Fair — A  Seven  Bijys'  Tournament — Duels  and  Trial  by  Ordeal  in  Smithfield — Terrible  Instances  of  the  Odium  Theoiogicum~T\ii 
Maid  of  Kent— Foxe's  Account  of  the  Smithfield  Martyrs— The  Smithfield  Gallows— William  Wallace  in  Smithfield— Bartholomew 
Priory— The  Origin  of  Bartholomew  Fair— St.  Bartholomew  becomes  papular  with  Sailors— Miscellaneous  Occupiers  of  Smithfield  — 
Generosity  of  English  Kings  to  St.  Bartholomew's— A  Religious  Brawl— The  London  Parish  Clerks  in  Smithfield — The  Court  of  Pie-poudre. 

Smithfield,  or  "  Smoothfield,"  to  follow  the  true 
derivation,  was  from  the  earliest  times  a  memorable 
spot  in  old  London.  Bartholomew  Fair,  established 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  in  tlie  neighbourhood  of 
the  priory  and  hospital  founded  by  Rayer,  the 
king's  worthy  jester,  brought  annually  great  crowds 
of  revellers  to  the  same  place  where,  in  Mary's 
cruel  reign,  so  many  of  her  277  victims  perished. 
Smithfield,  in  the  reign  of  the  early  Edwards,  was 
a  chosen  place  for  tournaments,  and  here  many  a 
spear  was  splintered  on  breastplate  and  shield, 
and  many  a  stout  blow  given,  till  armour  yielded 
or  sword  shattered. 

In  1374  Edward  III.,  then  sixty-two,  enamoured 
of  Alice  Pierce,  held  a  seven  days'  tournament  in 
Smithfield,  for  her  amusement.  She  sat  beside  the 
old  man,  in  a  magnificent  car,  as  the  Lady  of  the 
Sun,  and  was  followed  by  a  long  train  of  plumed 
knights,  careless  of  the  disgrace,  each  leading  by 
the  bridle  a  beautiful  palfrey,  on  which  was 
mounted  a  gay  damsel. 

In  1390  that  young  prodigal,  Richard  II.,  wish- 
ing to  rival  the  splendid  feasts  and  jousts  given 
by  Charles  of  France,  on  the  entry  of  his  con- 
sort, Isabella  of  Bavaria,  into  Paris,  invited  sixty 
knights  to  a  tilt  in  Smithfield,  commencing  on  the 
Sunday  after  Michaelmas  Day.  This  tournament 
was  proclaimed  by  heralds,  in  England,  Scotland, 
Hainault,  Germany,  Flanders,  and  France.  The 
Sunday  was  the  feast  of  the  challengers.  About 
three  p.m.  came  the  procession  from  the  Tower 
— sixty  barbed  coursers,  in  full  trappings,  each 
attended  by  a  squire  of  honour,  and  after  them 
sixty  ladies  of  rank,  mounted  on  palfrey.s,  "most 
elegantly  and  richly  dressed,"  and  each  leading 
by  a  silver  chain  a  knight,  completely  armed  for 
tilting,  minstrels  and  trumpeters  attending  the  pro- 
cession to  Smithfield.  Every  night  there  was  a 
magnificent  supper  for  the  tilters  at  the  bishop's 
palace,  where  the  king  and  queen  were  lodged,  and 
the  dancing  lasted  till  daybreak.  On  Tuesday 
King  Edward  entertained  the  foreign  knights  and 
squires,  and  the  queen  the  ladies.  On  Friday  they 
were  entertained  by  the  Duke  of  Lancaster,  and 
on  Saturday  the  king  invited  all  th^  foreign  knights 
to  Windsor. 


That  great  historical  event,  the  death  of  Wat 
Tyler,  we  have  elsewhere  described,  but  it  is  neces- 
sary here  to  touch  upon  it  again.  Wrongs,  no 
doubt,  his  followers  had,  but  they  were  savage  and 
cruel,  and  intoxicated  with  murder  and  plunder. 
They  had  beheaded  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
and  held  London  in  terror  for  seven  days.  Wat 
Tyler's  insolent  behaviour  at  the  meeting  in  Smith- 
field  (June  15,  1381)  greatly  alarmed  the  king's 
friends.  He. came  towards  Richard,  throwing  his 
dagger  in  the  air,  and  he  even  ventured  to  hold 
the  king's  bridle.  Walworth,  in  the  alarm  of  the 
moment,  ran  his  sword  into  the  rough  rebel's 
throat,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  squire  stabbed 
Wat  in  the  side.  It  was  then  that  Richard  II. 
courageously,  and  with  great  presence  of  mind, 
led  off  the  rebels  to  Islington  Fields,  where  the 
mayor  and  a  thousand  men  soon  scattered  them 
to  the  winds. 

Smithfield  was  frequently  chosen  as  the  scene  of 
mediaeval  duels,  and  of  the  ordeal  by  battle.  The 
combat,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.,  between  the 
master  and  the  'prentice,  who  had  accused  him 
of  treason,  will  be  remembered  by  all  readers  of 
Shakespeare.  The  ordeal  was,  perhaps,  hardly 
fairly  tried  in  this  case,  as  the  poor  armourer 
had  been  plied  with  liquor  by  his  over-zealous 
friends;  but  there  is  one  comfort,  according  to 
the  poet,  he  confessed  his  treason  in  his  dying"  ■ 
moments. 

Smithfield  was,  at  one  time,  a  place  of  torture 
peculiarly  in  favour  with  theologians.  Here  that 
swollen  Ahab,  Henry  VIII.,  burnt  poor  wretches 
who  denied  his  ecclesiastical  supremacy;  here 
Mary  burnt  Protestants,  and  here  Elizabeth  burnt 
Anabaptists.  In  1539  (Henry  VIII.)  Forest,  an 
Observant  friar,  was  cruelly  burnt  in  Smithfield,  for 
denying  the  king's  supremacy,  the  flames  being 
lit  w:tn  "  David  Darvel  Gatheren,"  an  idolatrous 
image  from  Wales.  Latimer  preached  patience  to 
the  friar,  while  he  liung  by  the  waist  and  struggled 
for  life.  And  here,  too,  was  burnt  Joan  Boucher, 
the  Maid  of  Kent,  for  some  theological  refinement 
as  to  the  incarnation  of  Cirist,  Cranmer  almost 
forcing  Edward  VI.  to  sign  tl.e  poor  creature's 
1  death-warrant.     "What,   my  lord!"  said  Edward, 


340 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tSmithfield. 


will  ye  have  me  send  her  quick  to  the  devil,  in 
her  error?  I  shall  lay  the  charge  therefore  upon 
you,  my  Lord  Cranmer,  before  God." 

Of  the  last  moments  of  the  Smithfield  martyrs, 
Foxe,  their  historian,  has  left  a  narrative,  so  simply 
told,  so  pious  in  tone,  and  so  natural  in  every 
detail,  as  to  guarantee  its  truth  to  all  but  partisans. 
A  few  passages  from  Foxe  will  convey  a  perfect 
impression  of  these  touching  scenes,  and  of  the  faith 
wherewith  these  good  and  brave  men  embraced 
death.  Speaking  of  Roger  Holland,  a  Protestant 
mart)T,  Foxe  says,  with  a  certain  exultation : — 
"  The  day  they  suffered  a  proclamation  was  made 
that  none  should  be  so  bold  to  speak  or  talk  any 
word  unto  them,  or  receive  anything  of  them,  or  to 
touch  them  upon  pain  of  imprisonment,  without 
either  bail  or  mainprize;  with  divers  other  cruel 
threatening  words,  contained  in  the  same  procla- 
mation. Notwithstanding  the  people  cried  out, 
desiring  God  to  strengthen  them ;  and  they,  like- 
wise, still  prayed  for  the  people,  and  the  restoring 
of  His  word.  At  length  Roger,  embracing  the 
stake  and  the  reeds,  said  these  words  : — '  Lord,  I 
most  humbly  thank  Thy  Majesty  that  Thou  hast 
called  me  from  the  state  of  death  unto  the  light  of 
Thy  heavenly  word,  and  now  unto  the  fellowship 
of  Thy  saints,  that  I  may  sing  and  say.  Holy,  holy, 
holy,  Lord  God  of  hosts !  And  Lord,  into  Thy 
hands  I  commit  my  spirit.  Lord,  bless  these  Thy 
people,  and  save  them  from  idolatry.'  And  so 
he  ended  his  life,  looking  up  into  heaven,  pray- 
ing and  praising  God,  with  the  rest  of  his  fellow- 
saints  :  for  whose  joyful  constancy  the  Lord  be 
praised." 

The  end  of  three  more  of  the  holy  army  Foxe 
thus  gives  : — "  And  so  these  three  godly  men,  John 
Hallingdale,  William  Sparrow,  and  Master  Gibson, 
'  "being  thus  :,ppointed  to  the  slaughter,  were,  the 
twelfth  day  after  their  condemnation  (which  was 
the  1 8th  day  of  the  said  month  of  November, 
1557),  burnt  in  Smithfield  in  London.  And  being 
brought  thither  to  the  stake,  after  their  prayer 
made,  they  were  bound  thereunto  with  chains, 
and  wood  set  unto  them;  and  after  wood,  fire, 
in  the  which  being,  compassed  about,  and  the 
fiery  flames  consuming  their  flesh,  at  the  last 
they  yielded  gloriously  and  joyfully  their  souls  and 
lives  into  the  holy  hands  of  the  Lord,  to  whose 
tuition  and  government  I  commend  thee,  good 
reader.     Amen." 

Of  the  heroic  death'  of  John  Rogers,  the  proto- 
martyr  in  the  Marian  persecution,  Foxe  gives  the 
following  account : — 

"After  that  John  Rogers,"  he  says,  "had  been 
long  and  straitly  imprisoned,  lodged  in  Newgate 


amongst   thieves,    often   examined   aqd   very  un- 
charitably treated,'  and  at  length  unjustly  and  most 
cruelly,  by  wicked  Winchester,  condemned.    The 
4th  of  February,  a.d.  1555,  being  Monday  in  the 
morning,  he  was  warned   suddenly  by  the  keeper's 
wife  of  Newgate,  to  prepare   himself  to  the  fire ; 
who,  being  then  sound  asleep,   scarce  with  much 
shogging  could  be  awaked.     At  length,  being  raised 
and  waked,  and  bid  to  make  haste,  '  Then,'  said  he, 
'  if  it  be  so  I  need  not  tie  my  points ; '  and  so  was 
had  down  first  to  Bonner  to  be  degraded.     That 
done,  he  craved  of  Bonner  but  one  petition.     And 
Bonner  asking  wha!  that  should   be  :  '  Nothing,' 
said  he,  '  but  that  I  might  talk  a  few  words  with 
my  wife  before  my  burning.'    But  that  could  not 
be  obtained  of  him.     '  Then,'  said  he, '  you  declare 
your  charity,  what  it  is.'     And  so  he  was  brought 
into   Smithfield   by  Master   Chester   sihd   Master 
Woodroofe,  then  sheriffs  of  London,  there  to  be 
burnt ;  where  he  showed  most  constant  patience, 
not  using  many  words,  for  he  could  not  be  per- 
mitted ;  but  only  exhorting  the  people  constantly 
to  remain  in  that  faith  and  true  doctrine  which  he 
before  had  taught  and  they  had  learned,  and  for 
the  confirmation  whereof  he  was  not  only  content 
patiently  to  suffer  and  bear  all  such  bitterness  and 
cruelty  as  had  been  showed  him,  but  also  most 
gladly  to  resign  up  his  life,  and  to  give  his  flesh  to 
the  consuming  fire,  for  the  testimony  of  the  same. 
.     .     .    The  Sunday  before  he  suffered  he  drank 
to  Master  Hooper,  being  then  underneath  him,  and 
bade  them  commend  him  unto  him,  and  tell  him, 
'There  was  never  little  fellow  better  would  stick 
to  a  man  than  he  would  stick  to  him,'  presupposing 
they  should  both  be  burned  together,  although  it 
happened  otherwise,  for  Master  Rogers  was  burnt 
alone.  .  .  Now,  when  the  time  came  that  he,  being 
delivered  to  the  sheriffs,  should  be  brought  out  of 
Newgate  to  Smithfield,  the  place  of  his  execution, 
first  came  to  him  Master  Woodroofe,  one  of  the^ 
aforesaid  sheriffs,  and  calling  Master  Rogers  unto 
him,  asked  him  if  he  would  revoke  his  abominable 
doctrine  and  his  evil  opinion'  of  the  sacrament  of 
the    altar.     Master   Rogers   answered    and    said, 
'  That  which  I  have  preached  I  will  seal  with  my 
blood.'      'Then,' quoth   Master  Woodroofe, 'thou 
art   a  heretic'       'That   shall  be  known,'  quoth 
Rogers,  'at  the  day  of  judgment.'     'Well' quoth 
Master  Woodroofe,   'I  will  never  pray  for  thee.' 
'  But  I  will  pray  for  you,'  quoth  Master  Rogers ; 
and  so  was  brought  the  same  day,  which  was  Mon- 
day, the  4th  of  February,  by  the  sheriffs  towards 
Smithfield,  saying  the  psalm  '  Miserere'  by  the  way, 
all  the   people  wonderfully  rejoicing  at  his  con- 
stancy, with  great  praises  and  thanks  to  God  for 


Smithfield.] 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  BARTHOLOMEW  FAIR. 


341 


the  same.  And  there,  in  the  presence  of  Master 
Rochester,  Comptroller  of  the  Queen's  Household, 
Sir  Richard  Southwell,  both  the  sheriffs,  and  a  won- 
derful number  of  people,  the  fire  was  put  unto  him ; 
and  when  it  had  taken  hold  both  upon  his  legs  and 
shoulders,  he,  as  one  feeling  no  smart,  washed  his 
hands  in  the  ilame  as  though  it  had  been  in  cold 
water.  And,  after  lifting  up  his  hands  unto  heaven, 
not  removing  the  same  until  such  time  as  the 
devouring  fire  had  consumed  them,  most  mildly 
this  happy  martyr  yielded  up  his  spirit  into  the 
hands  of  his  heavenly  Father.  A  little  before  his 
burning  at  the  stake  his  pardon  was  brought  if 
he  would  have  recanted,  but  he  utterly  refused. 
He  was  the  first  martyi-  of  all  the  blessed  company 
that  suffered  in  Queen  Mary's  time,  that  gave 
the  first  adventure  upon  the  fire.  His  wife  and 
children,  being  eleven  in  number,  and  ten  able  to 
go,  and  one  sucking  on  her  breast,  met  him  by  the 
way  as  he  went  towards  Smithfield.  This  sorrow- 
ful sight  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood  could  nothing 
move  him ;  but  that  he  constantly  and  cheerfully 
took  his  deatli,  with  wonderful  patience,  in  the 
defence  and  quarrel  of  Christ's  Gospel." 

The  chosen  place  for  executions  before.  Tyburn 
was  the  Elms,  Smithfield,  between  "the  horse- 
pond  and  Turnmill  brook,"  which,  according  to 
Stow,  began  to  be  built  on  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
V.  The  gallows  seems  to  have  been  removed  to 
Tyburn  about  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.  In  Stow's 
time  none  of  the  ancient  elms  remained.  Here 
that  brave  Scotch  patriot  and  guerilla  chief  Sir 
William  Wallace,  was  executed,  on  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's Eve,  1305.  After  many  cruel  reprisals  on 
the  soldiers  of  Edward  I.,  and  many  victories,  this 
true  patriot  was  betrayed  by  a  friend,  and  surrendered 
to  the  conquerors.  He  was  dragged  from  the  Tower 
by  horses,  and  then  hung,  and,  while  still  conscious, 
quartered.  Here  also  perished  ignominiously  Morti- 
mer, the  cruel  favourite  of  the  queen,  the  murderess 
of  her  husband,  Edward  II.  Edward  III. ,  then  aged 
eighteen,  seized  the  regicide,  Mortimer,  at  Not- 
tingham Castle,  and  he  was  hung  at  the  Elms,  the 
body  remaining  on  the  gibbet,  s&ys  Stow,  "two 
days  and  nights,  to  be  seen  of  the  people." 

The  history  of  Bartholomew  Priory  and  of  Bartho- 
lomew Fair,  so  admirably  narrated  by  Mr.  Henry 
Morley,  is  an  interesting  chapter  in  the  history  of 
Smithfield.  The  priory  was  founded  by  Rayer,  a 
monk,  who  had  been  jester  and  revel-master  to 
Henry  I.,  a  specially  superstitious  monarch.  Rayer 
was  converted  by  a  vision  he  saw  during  a  pil- 
grimage to  Rome,  where  he  had  fallen  grievously 
sick.  In  his  vision  Rayer  was  borne  up  to  a  high 
place  by  a  beast  with  four  feet  and  two  wings,  from 


whence  he  saw  the  mouth  of  the  bottomless  pit.  As 
he  stbod  there,  crying  out  and  trembling,  a  man  of 
majestic  beauty,  who  proclaimed  himself  St.  Bar- 
tholomew the  Apostle,  came  to  his  succour.  The 
saint  said  that,  by  common  favour  and  command 
of  the  celestial  council,  he  had  chosen  a  place  in 
the  suburbs  of  London  where  Rayer  should  found 
a  church  in  his  name.  Of  the  cost  he  was  to  doubt 
nothing;  it  would  be  his  (St.  Bartholomew's)  part 
to  provide  necessaries. 

On  Rayer's  return  to  London  he  told  his  friends 
and  the  barons  of  London,  and  by  their  advice  made 
.  his  request  to  the  king,  who  at  once  granted  it,  and 
the  church  was  founded  early  in  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury. It  was  an  unpromising  place,  though  called 
the  King's  Market,  almost  all  marsh  and  dirty  fens, 
and  on  the  only  dry  part  stood  the  Elms  gibbet. 
Rayer,  wise  in  his  generation,  now  feigped  to  be  half- 
witted, drawing  children  and  idlers  together,  to  fill 
the  marsh  with  stones  and  rubbish.  In  spite  of 
his  numerous  enemies,  many  miracles  attended  the 
building  of  the  new  priory.  At  evensong  a  light 
appeared  on  the  new  roof;  a  cripple  recovered  the 
use  of  his  limbs  at  the  altar;  by  a  vision  Rayer 
discovered  a  choral  book  which  a  Jew  had  stolen ; 
a  blind  boy  recovered  his  sight.  In  the  twelfth 
year  of  his  prelacy  Rayer  obtained  from  King 
Henry  a  most  ample  charter,  and  leave  to  institute 
a  three  days'  fair  on  the  Feast  ,of  St.  Bartholomew, 
forbidding  any  but  the  prior  levying  dues  on  the 
frequenters  of  the  fair  during  those  three  days. 
Fairs,  as  Mr.  Morley  has  most  learnedly  shown, 
generally  originated  in  the  assembling  of  pilgrims 
to  church  festivals,  and  St.  Bartholomew's  Fair  was 
no  exception  to  the  rule". 

Rayer,  after  witnessing  endless  miracles,  and 
showing  a  most  creditable  invention,  and  a  true 
knowledge  of  his  old  juggler's  art,  died  in  1143, 
leaving,  a  little  flock  of  thirteen  monks,  living  very 
well  on  the  oblations  of  the  rich  Londoners.  The 
miracles  continued  very  well.  The  saint  became 
a  favourite  with  seamen,  and  the  sailors  of  a 
Flemish  ship,  saved  by  prayers  to  the  saint  of 
Smithfield,  presented  a  silver  ship  at  his  altar. 
The  saint  appeared  to  a  sailor  on  a  wreck,  and  led 
a  wrecked  Flemish  merchant  to  land  in  safety. 
He  cured  madmen,  and  was  famous  in  cases  of 
fires  and  possession  by  devils. 

Fragments  of  the  old  Norman  priory  of  Rayer 
still  exist  in  Bartholomew  Close,  and  the  dim 
passage  called  Middlesex  Passage.  This  latter 
place  is  a  fragment  of  the  old  priory,  overhung 
by  the  wreck  of  the  great  priory  hall,  now  broken 
up,  divided  into  floors,  and  turned  into  a  tobacco- 
factory.     On  each  side  of  this  passage  there  is 


342 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Smithfield. 


access  to  separated  portions  of  the  crypt.  In  one 
pickle-store  there  are  pointed  Norman  arches  under 
a  high  vaulted  ceiling.  The  entrance  to  the  crypt 
used  to  be  by  a  descent  of  twenty-five  feet,  until 
the  floor  was  raised  for  business  convenience. 
There  is  a  tradition  that  at  the  end  of  this  long 
subterranean  hall  there  used  to  be  a  door  opening 
into  the  church ;  now  the  visitor  to  the  shrine  will 
only  find,  through  an  alley  a  door  and  bit  of  church 
wall  hemmed   in  between  factories.     The  present 


arches,  the  zig-zag  ornaments  of  the  early  Normans, 
are  still  as  when  Rayer  eyed  them  with  crafty 
triumph. 

The  site  of  the  priory  was  chosen  with  a  true 
monkish  wisdom.  The  saint  had  included  in  his 
wishes  a  piece  of  the  kmg's  Friday  Market,  and 
horses,  oxen,  sheep,  and  pigs  would  all  bring  grist, 
in  one  way  or  another,  to  the  omnivorous  monastic 
mill.  Already  Smithfield  was  the  great  horse- 
market  of  London,  as  it  continued  to  be  for  many 


PLACE  OF  EXECUTION  IN  OLD  SMITHFIELD: 


church  is  the  choir  of  the  old  priory,  and  the  nave 
is  entirely  gone;  the  last  line  of  the  square  of 
cloisters  had  been  turned  into  a  stable,  and  fell 
down  some  thirty  years  ago.  The  apse  is  shorn 
off,  and  a  base  brick  wall  closes  that  forlorn  space. 
"Half-way,"  says  Mr.  Morley,  "between  capital 
and  base  "of  the  pillars  of  that  oratory  of  the  Virgin 
which  a  miracle  commended  once  to  reverence,  now 
stands  the  floor  of  the  vestry  of  the  parish  church." 
The  walls  and  aisles  on  either  side  of  the  church 
are  still  nearly  as  when  Rayefs  sham  miracles  and 
pious  trickeries  were  all  over,  and  he  took  a  last 
glance  at  the  great  work  of  his  singular  life,  and 
the  house  raised  to  God  and  the  builder's  own 
vanity.      The  high   aspiring  columns   and   solid  i 


long  centuries.  On  Shrove  Tuesday  eveiy  school- 
boy came  here  to  play  football ;  and  it  was  also 
the  Rotten  Row  of  the  horsemen  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  It  was  the  great  Campus  Martins  for  sham- 
fights  and  tilts.  It  was  a  ground  for  bowls  and 
archery ;  the  favourite  haunt  of  jugglers,  acrobats, 
and  posture-makers.  There  were  probably,  in 
early  times,  says  Mr.  Morley,  two  Bartholomew 
Fairs,  one  held  in  Smithfield,  and  one  within  the 
priory  bounds.  The  real  fair  was  held  within  the 
priory  gates,  and  in  the  priory  churchyard ;  where, 
too,  on  certain  festivals,  schoolmasters  used  to 
bring  their  boys,  to  hpld  in  public  logical  con- 
troversies. The  churchyard  fair  seems  from  the 
first  tp  have  b§en  chiefly  a  draper's  and  clothiers' 


Smithfield.] 


THE   OLD    PRTORY. 


.■^4,3 


THE  ."HAND  AND  SHEARS." 
A   CASE    BpfOJ^E   THP    COURT   Of   PIE-POUDRE.      ^From  „  Dra^i^,  ^,t,^  ,8„.j 


344 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Smithfieia. 


fair;  and  the  gates  were  locked  every  night,  and 
guarded,  to  protect  the  booths  and  stands. 

The  Enghsh  kings  did  not  forget  the  hospital. 
In  1223  we  find  that  King  Henry  III.  gave  an  old 
oak  from  Windsor  Forest  as  fuel  for  the  infirm  in 
the  Hospital  of  St.  Bartholomew,  the  generous  grant 
to  be  renewed  every  year.  In  1244  (Henry  III.) 
a  disgraceful  religious  brawl  occurred  at  the  very 
gate  of  the  West  Smithfield  Priory.  Boniface,  the 
Provengal  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  came  to  visit 
Rayer's  friars,  and  was  received  with  solemn  pro- 
cession. Thebishop  was  rather  angry  at  the  state, 
and  told  the  canons  that  he  passed  not  for  honour, 
but  to  visit  them  as  part  of  the  duties  of  his  office. 
The  canons,  irritated  at  his  pride,  replied  that 
having  a  learned  bishop  of  their  own,  they  desired 
no  other  visitation.  The  archbishop,  furious  at 
this,  smote  the  sub-prior  on  the  face,  crying,  "In- 
deed !  indeed !  doth  it  become  you  English  traitors 
so  to  answer  me?"  Then,  bursting  with  oaths,  this 
worthy  ecclesiastic  fell  on  the  unfortunate  sub-priOr, 
tore  his  rich  cope  to  shreds,  trampled  them  under 
foot,  and  then  thrust  the  wearer  back  with  such 
force  against  a  chancel  pillar  as  nearly  to  kill  him. 
The  canons,  alarmed  at  this  furious  onslaught, 
pulled  the  archbishop  on  his  back,  and  in  so  doing 
discovered  that  he  was  armed.  The  archbishop's 
Provengal  attendants,  seeing  their  master  down, 
fell  in  their  turn  on  the  Smithfield  canons,  beat 
them,  rent  their  frocks,  and  trod  them  under  foot. 


The  canons  then  ran,  covered  with  blood  and 
mire,  to  the  king,  at  Westminster,  but  he  refused 
to  interfere.  The  citizens,  by  this  time  roused, 
would  have  rung  the  common  bell,  and  torn  the 
foreign  archbishop  to  pieces,  had  he  not  fled  over 
the  water  to  Lambeth.  They  called  him  a  ruflian 
and  a  cruel  brute,  and  said  he  was  greedy  for 
money,  unlearned  and  strange,  and,  moreover,  had 
a  wife. 

The  early  miracle  plays  seem  to  have  been  often 
performed  at  Smithfield.  In  1390  the  London 
parish  clerks  played  interludes  in  the  fields  at 
Skinner's  Well,  for  three  consecutive  days  to 
Richard  II.,  his  queen,  and  court.  In  1409 
(Henry  IV.)  the  parish  clerks  played  Matter  from 
the  Creation  of  the  World  for  eight  consecutive 
days ;  after  which  followed  jousts.  In  those  early 
times  delegates  of  the  merchant  tailors,  with  their 
silver  measure,  attended  Bartholomew  Fair,  to  try 
the  measures  of  the  drapers  and  clothiers. 

From  the  earliest  times  of  which  there  is -record, 
says  Mr.  Morley,  whose  wide  nets  few  odd  facts 
escape,  the  Court  of  Pie-poudre,  which  has  juris- 
diction over  offences  committed  in  the  fair,  was 
held  within  the  priory  gates,  the  prior  being  lord  of 
the  fair.  It  was  held,  indeed,  to  the  last,  close  by, 
in  Cloth  Fair.  After  1445  the  City  claimed  to  be 
joint  lord  of  the  fair  with  the  prior,  and  four  alder- 
men were  always  appointed  as  keepers  of  the  fair 
and  of  the  Court  of  Pie-poudre. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 
SMITHFIELD  AND  BARTHOLOMEW  FAIR. 


The  Mulberry-garden  at  St,  Bartholomew's— Prior  Bolton — The  Growth  of  Bartholomew  Fair — Smithfield  reduced  to  order — "Ruffians*  Hall"— 
Ben  Jonson  at  Bartholomew  Fair — ^A  Frenchman's  Adventures  there — Ned  Ward's  Account— The  Beggars'  Opera — "John  Audley"— 
Garrick  meets  a  brother, Actor — A  Dangerous  Neighbourhood — Old  Smithfield  Market — Remains  of  the  Smithfield  Burnings— Discovery 
of  Human  Remains, 

that  same  Prior  Bolton  who  built  the  oriel  in 
the  church  for  the  sacristan  to  watch  the  altar- 
lights  ;  and  he  built  largely,  as  we  have  already 
shown,  at  C^nonbury.  He  had- two  parishes,  Great 
St.  Bartholomew  and  Little  St.  Bartholomew,  within 
his  jurisdiction.  At  the  dissolution  the  priory 
and  the  hospital  were  torn  apart  by  greedy  hands 
for  ever. 

In  1537  Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  then  Lord  Mayor, 
prayed  that  the  City  might  govern  St.  Mary,  St. 
Thomas,  and  St.  Bartholomew  Hospitals,  "for  the 
relief,  comfort,  and  aid  of  the  helpless  poor  and 
indigent."  -In  1544  the  king  established  a  new 
Hospital  of  St.  Bartholomew,  under  a  priest,  as 
master,  and  four  chaplains ;  but  the  place  was  mis- 


A  GREAT  part  of  the  priory  was  rebuilt  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  IV.,  and  it  became  famous  for  its  mul- 
berry-garden, one  of  the  first  planted  in  England. 
That  garden  stood  to  the  east  of  the  present 
Middlesex  Passage,  and  it  was  under  its  great 
leafy  trees  that  scholars  at  fair-time  held  their 
logical  disputations.  Within  the  gates  the  northern 
part  of  the  priory  ground  was  occupied  by  a  large 
cemetery  with  a  spacious  court,  now  Bartholomew 
Close.  After  the  time  of  Henry  IV.  the  City 
established  a  firm  right  to  all  fair-tolls  outside 
the  priory  enclosure.  The  last  prior  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew who  was  acknowledged  by  the  English 
kings  died  in  office,  and  was  the  last  prior  but  one 
of  the  Black  Canons  of  West  Smithfield.    This  was 


ijmithfield.1 


BENJONSON  IN  BARTHOLOMEW  FAIR. 


345 


managed,  and  King  Henry  VIII.  founded  it  anew, 
"for  the  continual  relief  and  help  of  a  hundred 
sore  and  diseased.'' 

At  the  dissolution  the  privileges  of  the  fair  were 
shared  by  the  corporation  and  Lord  Rtch'  (died 
1568),  ancestor  of  the  Earls  of  Warwick  and 
Holland.  The  Cloth  Fair  dwindled  away  in  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth,  when  the  London  drapers  found 
wider  markets  for  their  woollens,  and  the  clothiers, 
as  roads  grew  better,  started  to  wider  fields.  The 
three  days'  fair  soon  grew  into  a  fourteen  days'  car- 
nival, to  which  all  ranks  resorted.  We  find  the 
amiable  and  contemplative  Evelyn  writing  of  his 
having  seen  "the  celebrating  follies"  of  Bar- 
'  tholomewj  and  that  accumulative  man.  Sir  Hans 
Sloane,  sending,  a  draughtsman  to  record  every 
lusus  natures  or  special  oddity.  In  1708  (Queen 
Anne),  the  nuisance  of  such  licence  becoming 
intolerable, to  the  neighbourhood,  the  fair  was  again 
restricted  to  three  days.  The  saturnalia  was  always 
formally  opened  by  the  Lord  Mayor,  and  the  pro- 
clamation for  the  purpose  was  read  at  the  entrance 
to  Cloth  Fair.  On  his  way  to  Smithfield  it  was 
the  custom  for  the  mayor  to  call  on  the  keeper 
of  Newgate,  and  on  horseback  partake  of  "  a  cool 
tankard  of  wine,  nutmeg,  and  sugar;"  the  flap  of 
the  tankard  lid,  it  will  be  remembered,  caused  the 
death  of  the  mayor.  Sir  John  Shorter,  in  1688, 
his  horse  starting,  and  throwing  him  violently.  The 
custom  ceased  in  the  second  mayoralty  of  Sir 
Matthew  Wood. 

"In  1615,"*  says  Howes,  "the  City  of  London 
reduced  the  rude,  vast  place  of  Smithfield  into  a 
faire  and  comely  order,  which  formerly  was  never 
held  possible  to  be  done,  and  paved  it  all  over, 
and  made  divers  sewers  to  convey  the  water  from 
the  new  channels  which  were  made  by  reason  of 
the  new  pavement ;  they  also  made  strong  rayles 
round  about  Smithfield,  and  sequestered  the  middle 
part  of  the  said  Smithfield  into  a  very  faire  and 
civill  walk,  and  rayled  it  round  about  with  strong 
rayles,  to  defend  the  place  from  annoyance  and 
danger,  as  well  from  carts  as  all  manner  of  cattell, 
because  it  was  intended  hereafter  that  in  time  it 
might  prove  a  faire  and  peaceable  market-place,  by 
reason  that  Newgate  Market,  Moorgate,  Cheapside, 
Leadenhall,  and  Gracechurche  Street  were  un- 
measurably  pestred  with  the  unimaginable  increase 
and  multipKcity  of  market  folks.  And  this  field, 
commonly  called  West  Smithfield,  was  for  many 
years  called  '  Ruffians'  Hall,'  by  reason  it  was  the 


*  The  work  began,  Anthony  Munday  informs  us,  on  the  4th  of  February, 
1614-15.  "The  citizens' charge  thereof  (as  I  have  been  credibly  told  by 
Master  Arthur  Strangewaies)  amounting  well  near  to  sixteen  hundred 
pounds." 


usual  place  of  frayes  and  common  fighting  during 
the  time  that  sword  and  bucklers  were  in  use. 
But  the  ensuing  deadly  fight  of  rapier  and  dagger 
suddenly  suppressed  the  fighting  with  sword  and 
buckler." 

Shakespeare  has  more  than  one  allusion  to  the 
horse-fair  in  Smithfield,  and  of  these  the  following 
is  the  most  marked  : — 

Falstaff.  Where's  Bardolph  ? 

Page.  He's  gone  into  Smithfield,  to  buy  your  worship  a 
horse. 

Falstaff.  I  bought  him  in  Paul's.^and  he'll  buy  me  a  horsa 
in  Smithfield ;  an  I  could  get  me  but  a  wife  in  the  stews,  I 
were  manned,  horsed,  and  •fi\sfi&.— Second  Partof  Henry  IV., 
Act  i.,  Sc.  2.* 

That  fine,  vigorous  old  satirist,  Ben  Jonson,  the 
dear  friend  and  protdgd  of  Shakespeare,  named 
one  of  his  best  comedies  after  this  great  London 
fair,  and  has  employed  his  Hogarthian  genius  to 
depict  the  pickpockets,  eating-house-keepers,  pro- 
testing Puritans,  silly  citizens,  and  puppet-show  pro- 
prietors of  the  reign  of  James  I.  Some  extracts 
from  his  amusing  play,  Bartholomew  Fair,  1613 
(written  in  the  very  cHmax  of  the  author's  power), 
are  indispensable  in  any  history,  however  brief,  of 
this  outburst  of  national  merriment.  The  following 
extract  from  Mr.  Morley's  "History  of  Bartholomew 
Fair"  contains  some  of  the  most  characteristic 
passages : — 

"Nay,"  says  Littlewit,  "we'll  be  humble  enough,  we'll 
seek  out  the  homeliest  booth  in  the  fair,  that's  'certain  ;  rather 
than  fail,  we'll  eat  it  on  the  ground."  "Aye,"  adds  Dame 
Purecroft,  "and  I'll  go  with  you  myself.  Win-the-Fight 
and  my  brother,  Zeal-of-the-Land,  shall  go  with  us,  too, 
for  our  better  consolation."  Then  says  the  Rabbi,  "In  the 
way  of  comfort  to  the  weak,  I  will  go  and  eat.  I  will  eat 
exceedingly,  and  prophecy.  There  may  be  a  good  use  made 
of  it,  too,  now  I  think  on't,  by  the  public  eating  of  swine's 
flesh,  to  profess  our  hate  and  loathing  of  Judaism,  whereof 
the  brethren  stand  taxed.  I  will  therefore  eat,  yea,  I  will 
eat  exceedingly."     So  these  also  set  off  for  the  fair. 

In  the  fair,  as  I  have  said,  is  Justice  Overdue,  solemnly 
establishing  himself  as  a  fool,  for  the  benefit  of  public  morals. 
There  are  the  booths  and  stalls.  There  is  prosperous  Lan- 
thom  Leatherhead,  the  hobby-horse  man,  who  cries,  "What 
do  you  lack?  What  is't  you  buy?  What  do  you  lack? 
Rattles,  drums,  halberts,  horses,  babies  o'  the  best,  fiddles 
of  the  finest !"  He  is  a  too  proud  pedler,  owner  also  of  a 
famous  puppet-show,  the  manager,  indeed,  for  whom  Proctor 
Littleviat  has  sacrificed  to  the  Bartholomew  muses.  Joan 
Trash,  the  gingerbread-woman,  keeps  her  stall  near  him, 
and  the  rival  traders  have  their  differences.  ' '  Do  you  hear. 
Sister  Trash,  lady  of  the  basket !  sit  farther  with  your  ginger- 
bread progeny,  there,  and  hinder  not  the  prospect  of  my 
shop,  or  I'll  have  it  proclaimed  in  the  fair  what  stuff  they 


•  This,  it  may  be  added,  is  in  allusion  to  a  proverb  often  quoted  by 
old  writers — *'  Who  goes  to  Westminster  for  a  wife,  to  St.  Paul's  for  a 
man,  and  to  Smithfield  for  a  horse,  may  meet  with  a  queane,  a  knave, 
and  a  jade.'* 


346 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Smithfidd. 


are  made  on."  "  Why,  what  stuff  are  they  made  on,  Brother 
Leatherhead?  Nothing  but  what's  wholesome,  I  assure 
you."  "Yes,  stale  bread,  rotten  eggs,  musty  ginger,  and 
dead  honey,  you  know;"  "  I  defy  thee,  and  thy  stable  of 
hobby-hbrses.  I  pay  for  my  ground,  as  well  as  thou  dost. 
Buy  any  gingerbread,  gilt  gingerbread  !  Will  your  worship 
buy  any  gingerbread?  Very  good  bread,  comfortable 
bread!" 

The  cries  of  the  fair  multiply.  "  Buy  any  ballads?  new 
ballads!     Hey!" 

"  Now  the  fair's  a  filling  ! 
Oh,  for  a  tune  to  startle 
The  birds  o'  the  booths  here  billing 
Yearly  with  old  Saint  Bartle  !" 
"  Buy  any  pears,  pears,  fine,  very  fine  pears!"     "What  do 
you  lack,  gentlemen '!     Maid,  see  a  fine  hoppy-horse  for  your 
young  master.     Cost    you  but  a  token*  a   week  his  pro- 
vender. " 

"  Have  you  any  corns  on  your  feet  and  toes  ?" 

"  Buy  a  mousetrap,  a  mousetrap,  or  a  tormentor  for  a, 
flea?" 

"  Buy  some  gingerbread?" 

"What  do  you  lack,  gentlemen?  fine  purses,  pouches, 
pin-cases,  pipes?  What  is't  you  lack?  a  pair  o'  smiths,  to 
wake  you  in  the  morning,  or  a  fine  whistling  bird  ?  " 

"  Ballads  !  ballads  !  fine  new  ballads  !" 
"  Hear  for  your  love,  and  buy  for  your  money, 

A  delicate  ballad  o'  the  ferret  and  the  coney  ; 

A  dozen  of  divine  points,  and  the  godly  garters. 

The  fairing  of  good  counsel,  of  an  ell  and  three  quarters.'' 

"  What  do  you  lack,  what  do  you  buy,  mistress  ?  A  fine 
hobby-horse,  to  make  your  son  a  tilter  ?  A  drum,  to  make 
him  a  soldier  ?  A  fiddle,  to  make  him  a  reveller  ?  What 
is't  you  lack  ?  little  dogs  for  your  daughters,  or  babies,  male 
or  female?" 

"Gentlewomen,  the  weather's  hot;  whither  walk  you? 
Have  a  care  of  your  fine  velvet  caps  ;  the  fair  is  dusty.  Take 
a  sweet,  delicate  booth  with  boughs,  here  in  the  way,  and 
cool  yourselves  in  the  shade,  you  and  your  friends.  The 
best  pig  and  bottle-ale  in  the  fair,  sir.  Old  Ursula  is  cook. 
There  you  may  read — '  Here  be  the  best  pigs,  and  she  does 
roast  them  as  well  as  ever  she  did  '" — (there  is  a  picture  of 
a  pig's  head  over  the  inscription,  and) — "  the  pig's  head 
speaks  it." 

"A  delicate  show;pig,  little  mistress,  with  shweet  sauce 
and  crackling,  like  dc  bay-leai  i'  de  fire,  la  !  Tou  shalt  ha' 
the  clean  side  o'  the  table-clot,  and  di  glass  vash'd  with 
phatersh  of  Dame  Annesh  Cleare. "+ 

In  "  Wit  and  Drollery :  Jovial  Poems,"  1682,  the 
writer  has  hit  off  several  of  the  chief  rarities  of  the 
fair : — 
"  Here's  that  will  challenge  all  the  fair. 

Come,  buy  my  nuts  and  damsons,  and  Burgamy  pears  ! 

Here's  the  Woman  of  Babylon,  the  Devil,  and  the  Pope, 

And  here's  the  little  ^irl,  just  going  on  the  rope  ! 

Here's  Dives  and  Lazarus,  and  the  World's  Creation  ; 

Here's  the  Tall  Dutchwoman,  the  like's  not  in  the  nation. 

Here  is  the  booths,  where  the  high  Dutch  maid  is  ; 

Here  are  the  bears  that  dance  like  any  ladies  ; 

Tat,  tat,  tat,  tat,  says  little  penny  trumpet ; 

Here's  Jacob  Hall,  that  does  so  jump  it,  jump  it ; 


•  Tokens  were  farthings  coined  by  tradesmen  for  the  convenience  of 
change,  before  farthings  were  issued  as  king's  money  by  Charles  II. 
in  1672.  •-* 

t  A  favourite  well  near  Hoxton,  that  of  Agnes  le  Clare. 


Sound,  trumpet,  sound,  for  silver  spoon  and  fork. 
Come,  here's  your  dainty  pig  and  pork." 

In  the  year  1698,  a  Frenchman,  Monsieur  Sor- 
hihre,  visiting  London,  says,  "  I  was  at  Bartholo- 
mew Fair.  It  consists  mostly  of  toy-shops,  also 
finery  and  pictures,  ribbon-shops — no  books ;  many 
shops  of  confectioners,  where  any  woman  may 
commodiously  be  treated.  Knavery  is  here  in  per- 
fection, dextrous  cutpurses  and  pickpockets.  I 
went  to  see  the  dancing  on  the  ropes,  which  was 
admirable.  Coming  out,  I  met  a  man  that  would 
have  took  off  my  hat,  but  I  secured  it,  and  was 
going  to  draw  my  sword,  crying,  'Begar!  You 
rogue !  Morbleu ! '  &c.,  when  on  a  sudden  1 
had  a  hundred  people  about  me  crying,  '  Here, 
monsieur,  see  Jephthah's  Rash  Vow.'  '  Here,  mon- 
sieur, see  the  Tall  Dutchwoman.'  >  See  The  Tiger,' 
says  another.  'Sfe'e  the  Horse  and  no  Horse,' 
whose  tail  stands  where  his  head  should  do.'  '  See 
the  German  Artist,  monsieur.'  '  See  The  Siege  oj 
Namur.'  So  that  betwixt  'rudeness  and  civility  I 
was  forced  to  get  into  z.  fiacre,  and  with  an  air  of 
haste  and  a  full  trot,  got  home  to  my  lodgings." 

In  1702,  the  following  advertisement  appeared 
relative  to  the  fair : — 

"At  the  Great  Booth  over  against  the  Hospital  Gate,  in 
Bartholomew  Fair,  will  be  seen  the  famous  company  of  rope- 
dancers,  they  being  the  greatest  performers  of  men,  women, 
and  children  that  can  be  found  beyond  the  seas,  so  that  the 
world  cannot  parallel  them  for  dancing  on  the  low  rope, 
vaulting  on  the  high  rope,  and  for  walking  on  the  slack  and 
sloaping  ropes,  outdoing  all  others  to  that  degree,  that  it 
has  highly  recommended  them,  both  in  Bartholomew  Fair 
and  May  Fair  last,  to  all  the  best  persons  of  quality  in 
England.  And  by  all  are  owned  to  be  the'  only  amazing 
wonders  of  the  world  in  everything  they  do.  It  is  there  you 
will  see  the  Italian  Scaramouch  dancing  on  the  rope,  with  a 
wheelbarrow  before  him  with  two  children  and  a  dog  in  it, 
and  with  a  duck  on  his  head,  who  sings  to  the  company,  and 
causes  much  laughter.  The  whole  entertainment  will  be  so 
extremely,  fine  and  diverting,  as  never  was  done  by  any  but 
this  company  alone." 

Ned  Ward,  as  the  "London  Spy,"  went,  of 
course,  to  the  fair,  but  in  a  coach,  to  escape  the 
dirt  and  the  crowd,  and  at  the  entrance  he  says 
he  was  "  saluted  with  Belphegor's  concert,  the 
rumbling  of  drums,  mixed  with  the  intolerable 
squeaking  of  catcalls  and  penny  trumpets,  made 
still  more  terrible  with  the  shrill  belches  of  lottery 
pickpockets  through  instruments  of  the  same  metal 
with  their  faces."  The  spy  having  been  set  down 
with  his  friend  at  the  hospital  gate,  went  into  a 
convenient  house,  to  smoke  a  pjpe  and  drink  small 
beer  bittered  with  colocynth.  From  one  of  its 
windows  he  looked  down  on  a  crowd  rushing, 
ankle-deep  in  filth,  through  an  air  tainted  by  fumes 
of  tobacco  and  of  singeing,  over-roasted  pork,  to 


SimEMield.] 


THE  HUMOURS  OF  BARTHOLOMEW  FAIR. 


347 


see  the  Merry  Andrew.  On  their  galleries  strutted, 
in  their  buffoonery  of  stateliness,  the  quality  of  the 
fair,  dressed  in  tinsel  robes  and  golden  leather 
buskins.  "  When  they  had  taken  a  turn  the  length 
of  their  gallery,  to  show  .the  gaping  crowd  how  ma- 
iesticaUy  they  could  tread,  each  ascended  to  a  seat 
agreeable  to  the  dignity  of  their  dress,  to  show  the 
multitude  how  imperiously  they  could  sit." 

A  few  years  before  this  the  fair  is  sketched  by 
Sir  Robert  Southwell,  in  a  letter  to  his  son  (26th 
August,  1685).  "Here,"  he  says,  "you  see  the 
rope-dancers  gett  their  living  meerly  by  hazarding 
of  their  lives ;  and  why  men  will  pay  money  and 
take  pleasure  to  see  such  dangers,  is  of  separate 
and  philosophical  consideration.  You  have  others 
,  who  are  acting  fools,  drunkards,  and  madmen,  but 
for  the  same  wages  which  they  might  get  by  honest 
labour,  and  live  with  credit  besides.  Others,  if 
born  in  any  monstrous  shape,  or  have  children  that 
are  such,  here  they  celebrate  their  misery,  and,  by 
getting  of  money,  forget  how  odious  they  are  made. 
When  you  see  the  toy-shops,  and  the  strange  va- 
riety of  things  much  more  impertinent  than  hobby- 
horses of  ginger-bread,  you  must  know  there  are 
customers  for  all  these  matters ;  and  it  would  be  a 
pleasing  sight  could  you  see  painted  a  true  figure 
of  all  these  impertinent  minds  and  their  fantastic 
passions,  who  come  trudging  hither  only  for  such 
things.  'Tis  out  of  this  credulous  crowd  that  the 
ballad-singers  attrackt  an  assembly,  who  listen  and 
admire,  while  their  confederate  pickpockets  are 
diving  and  fishing  for  their  prey. 

"  'Tis  from  those  of  this  number  who  are  more 
refined  that  the  mountebank  obtains  audience  and 
credit;  and  it  were  a  good  bargain  if  such  cus- 
tomers had  nothing  for  their  money  but  words, 
but  they  are  best  content  to  pay  for  druggs  and 
medicines,  which  commonly  doe  them  hurt.  There 
is  one  comer  of  this  Elizium  field  devoted  to  the 
eating  of  pig  and  the  3urfeits  that  attend  it.  The 
fruits  of  the  season  are  everywhere  scattered  about, 
and  those  who  eat  imprudently  do  but  hasten  to 
the  physitian  or  the  churchyard." 

"  In  the  year  1727-28,"  says  Mr.  Morley,  "Gay's 
Beggar's  Opera  was  produced,  and  took  the  fore- 
most place  among  the  pleasures  of  the  town.  It 
took  a  foremost  place  also  among  the  pleasures  of 
the  next  Bartholortiew  Fair,  being  acted  during  the 
time  of  the  fair  by  the  company  of  comedians  from 
the  new  theatre  in  the  Haymarket,  at  the  '  George' 
Inn  in  Smithfield.  William  Penkethman,  one  of 
the  actors  who  had  become  famous  as  a  booth- 
manager,  was  then  recently  dead,  and  the  Hay- 
market  comedians  carried  the  Beggar's  Opera  out 
of  Bartholomew  into  Southwark  Fair,  where  'the  late 


Mr.  Penkethman's  great  theatrical  booth'  afforded 
them  a  stage.  One  of  the  managers  of  this  specula 
tion  was  Henry  Fielding,  then  only  just  of  age,  a 
young  man  who,  with  good  birth,  fine  wit,  and  a 
liberal  education,  both  at  Eton  and  at  Leyden 
University,  was  left  to  find  his  own  way  in  the 
world.  His  father  agreed  to  allow  him  two  hundred 
a  year  in  the  clouds,  and,  as  he  afterwards  said, 
his  choice  lay  between  being  a  hackney  writer  and 
a  hackney  coachman.  He  lived  to  place  himself, 
in  respect  to  literature,  at  the  head  of  the  prose 
writers  of  England,  I  dare  even  venture  to  think, 
of  the  world." 

"A  writer  in  the  St.  James's  Chronicle  (^llaxch.  24, 
1791)  wished  to  place  upon  record  the  fact  that  it 
was  Shuter,  a  comedian,  who,  in  the  year  1759, 
when  master  of  a  droll  in  Smithfield,  invented  a 
way,  since  become  general  at  fairs,  of  informing 
players  in  the  booth  when  they  may  drop  the 
curtain  and  dismiss  the  company,  because  there 
are  enough  people  waiting  outside  to  form  another 
audience.  The  man  at  the  door  pops  in  his  head, 
and  makes  a  loud  inquiry  for  'John  Audley.'" 
The  ingenious  contriver  of  this  device  is  the  Shuter 
who  finds  a  place  in  "  The  Rosciad"  of  Churchill : 
"  Shuter,  who  never  cared  a  single  pin 
Whether  he  left  out  nonsense,  or  put  in." 

"There  lived,"  says  Mr.  Morley,  "about  this 
time  a  popular  Meny  Andrew,  who  sold  ginger- 
bread nuts  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Covent  Garden, 
and  because  he  received  a  guinea  a  day  for  his  fun 
during  the  fair,  he  was  at  pains  never  to  cheapen 
himself  by  laughing,  or  by  noticing  a  joke,  during 
the  other  362  days  of  the  year." 

"Garrick's  name,"  says  the  same  writer,  "is 
connected  with  the  fair  only  by  stories  that  regard 
him  as  a  visitor  out  of  another  world.  He  offers 
his  money  at  the  entrance  of  a  theatrical  booth, 
and  it  is  thought  a  jest  worth  transmitting  to  pos- 
terity that  he  is  told  by  the  checktaker,  'We 
never  takes  money  of  one  another.'  He  sees  one 
of  his  own  sturdy  Drury  Lane  porters  installed 
at  a  booth-door,  where  he  is  pressed  sorely  in 
the  crowd,  and  calls  for  help.  'It's  no  use,'  he 
is  told,  'I  can't  help  you.  There's  very  few 
people  in  Smithfield  as  knows  Mr.  Garrick  off  the 
stage.'" 

In  "  Oliver  Twist "  Dickens  sketches  with  his 
peculiar  power  the  dangerous  neighbourhood  of 
Smithfield,  which  lay  between  Islington  and  Saffron 
Hill,  the  lurking-place  of  the  Sykeses  and  Fagins 
of  thirty  years  ago  : — 

"As  John  Dawkins,"  says  Dickens,  "objected 
to  their  entering  London  before  nightfall,  it  was 
nearly  eleven  o'clock  before  they  reached  the  turn- 


548 


OLD  AND   N£W  LONDON. 


[Smithfield. 


pike  at  Islington.  Tliey  crossed  from  the  '  Angel ' 
into  St.  John's  Road,  struck  down  the  small  street 
which  terminates  at  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre,  through 
Exmouth  Street  and  Coppice  Row,  down  the  little 
court  by  the  side  of  the  workhouse,  across  the 
classic    ground    which   once    bore   the    name   of 


very  narrow  and  muddy,  and  the  air  was  impreg- 
nated with  filthy  odours.  There  were  a  good  many 
small  shops,  but,  the  only  stock-in-trade  appeared 
to  be  heaps  of  children,  who,  even  at  that  time  of 
night,  were  crawling  in  and  out  at  the  doors,  or 
screaming  from  the  inside!     The  sole  places  that 


IHE  CHURCH   OF    ST.    BARTHOLOMEW-THE-GREAT,    1737- 


Hockley-in-the-Hole,  thence  into  Little  Saffron 
Hill,  and  so  into  Saffron  Hill  the  Great,  along 
which  the  Dodger  scudded  at  a  rapid  pace,  direct- 
ing Oliver  to  follow  close  at  his  heels. 

"Although  Oliver  had  enough  to  occupy  his 
attention  in  keeping  sight  of  his  leader,  he  could  not 
help  bestowing  a  few  hasty  glances  on  either  side 
of  the  way,  as  he  passed  along.  A  dirtier  br  more 
wretched  place  he  had  never  seen.     The  street  was 


seemed  to  prosper  amid  the  general  blight  of  the 
place  were  the  pubUc-houses,  and  in  them  the 
lowest  orders  of  Irish  were  wrangling  with  might 
and  main.  Covered  ways  and  yards,  which  here 
and  there  diverged  from  the  main  street,  disclosed 
little  knots  of  houses  where  drunken  men  and 
women  were  positively  wallowing  in  the  filth,  and 
from  several  of  the  doorways  great,  ill-looking 
fellows    were   cautiously   emerging^   bound,  to  all 


Smithfield.^ 


THE  DOOM  OF  BARTHOLOMEW  FAIR. 


349 


appearance,  upon  no  very  well-disposed  or  harmless 
errands." 

The  enormous  sale  of  roast  pork  at  Bartholomew 
Fair  ceased,  says  Mr.  Morley,  with  all  the  gravity 
of  a  historian,  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century, 
and  beef  sausages  then  became  the  fashion. 
Thomas  Rowlandson's  droll  but  gross  pictures  of 
the  shows,  in  1799,  show  those  sickening  boat- 
swings  and  crowds  of  rough  and  boisterous  sight- 
seers.    He  writes  on  one  of  the  show-boards  tlie 


came  to  their  windows  with  lights,  alarmed  at  the 
disturbance.  In  1807  the  place  grew  even  more 
lawless,  and  a  virago  of  an  actress,  who  was  per- 
forming Belvidera  in  Venice  Preserved,  knocked 
down  the  august  king's  deputy-trumpeter,  who 
applied  for  his  fees.  Richardson's  shows  were 
triumphant  still,  as  in  1817  was  Toby,  "the  real 
learned  pig,"  who,  with  twenty  handkerchiefs  over 
his  eyes,  could  tell  the  hour  to  a  minute,  and 
pick  out  a  card  from  a  pack.     In  one  morning  of 


OLD  SMITHFIELD   MARKET. 


name  of  Miss  Biffin,  that  clever  woman  who, 
through  the  Earl  of  Morton's  patronage,  succeeded 
in  earning  a  name  as  a  miniature  painter,  though 
bom  without  either  hands  or  arms.  In  1808 
George  III.  paid  for  her  more  complete  artistic 
education,  and  William  IV.  gave  her  a  small  pen- 
sion, after  which  she  married,  and,  at  the  Earl  of 
Morton's  request,  left  the  fair  caravans  for  good. 

This  great  carnival,  a  dangerous  sink  for  all  the 
vices  of  London,  was  gradually  growing  unbearable. 
In  1 80 1  a  mob  of  thieves  surrounded  any  respect- 
able woman,  and  tore  her  clothes  from  her  back. 
In  1802  "Lady  Holland's  Mob,"  as  it  used  to 
be  called,  robbed  visitors,  beat  inoffensive  passers- 
by  with  bludgeons,  and  pelted  harmless  persons  who 
78— Vol.   IL 


September,  1815,  there  were  heard  at  Guildhall 
forty-five  cases  of  felony,  misdemeanour,  and 
assault,  committed  at  Bartholomew  Fair.  Its  doom 
was  fixed.  Hone,  in  1825,  went  to  sketch  the 
dying  sinner,  and  describes  Clarke  from  Astley's, 
Wombwell's  Menagerie,  and  the  Living  Skeleton. 
The  special  boast  of  Wombwell,  who  had  been  a 
cobbler  in  Monmouth  Street,  was  his  Elephant  of 
Siam,  who  used  to  uncork  bottles,  and  decide  for  the 
rightful  heir,  in  a  very  brief  Oriental  melodrama. 
The  shows,  which  were  now  forced  to  close  at  ten,' 
had  removed  to  the  New  North  Road,  Islington. 
Lord  Kensington,  in  1827,  had  offered  to  remove 
the  fair,  and  in  1830  the  Corporation  bought  of 
him  the  old  priory  rights.     In  1839  Mr.  Charles 


^5d 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


tSmithfieM. 


Pearsoa  recommended  more  restriction,  and  the 
exclusion  of  theatrical  shows  followed.  The  rents 
were  raised,  and  in  1840  only  wild  beast  shows 
were  allowed.  The  great  fair  at  last  sank  down  to 
a  few  gilt  gingerbread  booths.  In  1849  the  fair 
had  so  withered  away  that  there  were  only  a 
dozen  gingerbread  stalls.  The  ceremony  of  open- 
ing since  1840  had  been  very  simple,  and  in  1850 
Lord  Mayor  Musgrove,  going  to  read  the  parch- 
ment proclamation  at  the  appointed  gateway,  found 
that  the  fair  had  vanished.  Five  years  later  the 
ceremony  entirely  ceased,  but  the  old  fee  of 
3s.  6d.  was  still  paid  by  the  City  to  the  rector 
of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Great,  for  a  proclamation 
in  his  parish.  The  fair  had  outlived  its  original 
purpose. 

Smithfield  Market  was  condemned  in  1852  by 
law  to  be  moved  to  Islington,  the  noise,  filth,  and 
dangers  of  the  place  having  at  last  become  in- 
tolerable, and  half  a  century  having  been  spent 
in  discussing  the  annoyance. 

"The  original  extent  of  Smithfield,"  says  Mr. 
Timbs,  "was  about  three  acres  j  the  market-place  was 
paved,  drained,  and  railed  in,  1685  ;  subsequently 
enlarged  to  four  and  a  half  acres,  and  since  1834  to 
six  and  a  quarter  acres.  Yet  this  enlargement  proved 
disproportionate  to  the  requirements.  In  173 1  there 
were  only  8,304  head  of  cattle  sold  in  Smithfield ;  in 
1846,  210,757  head  of  cattle,  and  1,518,510  sheep. 
The  old  City  laws  for  its  regulation  were  called 
the  "  Statutes  of  Smithfield^"  Here  might  be  shown 
4,000  beasts  and  about  30,000  sheep,  the  latter  in 
1,509  pens ;  and  there  were  fifty  pens  for  pigs. 
Altogether,  Smithfield  was  the  largest  live  market 
in  the  world." 

The  old  market-days  were,  Monday  for  fat  cattle 
and  sheep ;  Tuesday,  Thursday,  and  Saturday,  for 
hay  and  straw ;  Friday,  cattle  and  sheep,  and  milch 
cows ;  and  at  two  o'clock  for  scrub-horses  and 
asses.  All  sales  took  place  by  commission.  The 
customary  commission  for  the  sale  of  an  ox  of  any 
value  was  4s.,  and  of  a  sheep,  8d.  The  City  re- 
ceived a  toll  upon  every  beast  exposed  for  sale  of 
id.  per  head,  and  of  sheep  at  the  rate  of  is.  per 
score.  Smithfield  salesmen  estimated  the  weight 
of  cattle  by  the  eye,  and  from  constant  practice 
they  approached  so  near  exactness  that  they  were 
seldom  out  more  than  a  few  pounds.  The  sales 
were  always  for  cash.  No  paper  was  passed,  but 
when  the  bargain  was  struck  the  buyer  and  seller 
shook  iands,  and  closed  the  "sale.  ^^7, 000,000, 
it  was  said,  were  annually  paid  away  in  this  manner 
in  the  narrow  area  of  Smithfield  Market.  "The 
average  Weekly  sale  of  beasts,"  said  Cunningham  in 
1849,  "  is  said  to  be  about  3,000,  and  of  sheep  about 


30,000,  increased  in  the  Christmas  week  to  about 
5,000  beasts,  and  47,000  sheep.  The  following  re- 
turn shows  the  number  of  cattle  and  sheep  annually 
sold  in  Smithfield  during  the  following.periods ; — 

Cattle.  Sheep. 

1841  194.298  1,435.000 

1842  210,723  1.655,370 

1843  207,195  1.817,360 

1844  216,848 1,804,850 

1845    232,8Z2    1. 539,660 

1846   210,757    1,518,510 

In  addition  to  this,  a  quarter  of  a  million  pigs  were 
annually  sold.'' 

The  miseries  of  old  Smithfield  are  described  by 
Mr.  Dickens,  in  "Oliver  Twist,"  in  his  most 
powerful  manner.  "  It  was  market  morning,''  he 
says;  "the  ground  was  covered  nearly  ankle-deep 
with  filth  and  mire,  and  a  thick  steam  perpetually 
rising  from  the  reeking  bodies  of  the  cattle,  and 
mingling  with  the  fog  which  seemed  to  rest  upon 
the  chimney-tops,  hung  heavily  above.  All  the 
pens  in  the  centre  of  the  large  area,  and  as  many 
temporary  ones  as  could  be  crowded  into  the 
vacant  space,  were  filled  with  sheep ;  and  tied  up 
to  posts  by  the  gutter-side  were  long  lines  of 
oxen,  three  or  four  deep.  Countrymen,  butchers, 
drovers,  hawkers,  boys,  thieves,  idlers,  and  vaga- 
bonds of  every  low  grade,  were  mingled  together 
in  a  dense  mass.  The  whistling  of  drovers,  the 
barking  of  dogs,  the  bellowing  and  plunging  of 
beasts,  the  bleating  of  sheep,  and  grunting  and 
squeaking  of  pigs ;  the  cries  of  hawkers,  the  shouts, 
oaths,  and  quarrelling  on  all  sides,  the  ringing  of 
bells,  and  the  roar  of  voices  that  issued  from 
every  public-house,  the  crowding,  pushing,  driving, 
beating,  whooping,  and  yelling,  the  hideous  and 
discordant  din  that  resounded  from  every  comer  of 
the  market,  and  the  unwashed,  unshaven,  squalid, 
and  dirty  figures  constantly  running  to  and  fro, 
and  bursting  in  and  out  of  the  throng,  rendered 
it  a  stunning  and  bewildering  scene,  which  quite 
confused  the  senses."    • 

Smithfield  Market,  on  a  foggy,  rainy  morning  in 
November,  some  twenty-five  years  ago  (says  Aleph), 
was  a  sight  to  be  remembered  by  any  who  had  ven- 
tured through  it.  It  might  be  called  a  feat  of  clever 
agility  to  get  across  Smithfield,  on  such  a  greasy, 
muddy  day,  without  slipping  down,  or  without 
being  knocked  over  by  one  of  the  poor  frightened 
and  half-mad  cattle  toiling  through  it.  The  noise 
was  deafening.  The  bellowing  and  lowing  of 
cattle,  bleating  of  sheep,  squeaking  of  pigs,  the 
shouts  of  the  drovers,  and  often,  the  shrieks  of  some 
unfortunate  female  who  had  got  amongst  the  unnilyr 
frightened  cattle,  could  not  be  forgotten.    The  long, 


St.  Bartholomew's.] 


THE  CHURCH  OF  BARTHOLOMEW-THE-GREAT^ 


35^ 


narrow  lanes  of  pavement  that  crossed  the  wider 
part  of  the  market,  opposite  the  hospital,  were 
always  lined  with  cattle,  as  close  together  as  they 
could  stand,  their  heads  tied  to  the  rails  on  eitlier 
side  of  the  scanty  pathway,  when  the  long  horns  of 
the  Spanish  breeds,  sticking  across  towards  the 
other  side,  made  it  far  from  a  pleasant  experience 
for  a  nervous  man  to  venture  along  one  of  these 
narrow  lanes,  albeit  it  was  the  nearest  and  most 
direct  way  across  the  open  market.  If  the  day  was 
foggy  (and  there  were  more  foggy  days  then  than 
now),  then  the  glaring  lights  of  the  drover-boys' 
torches  added  to  the  wild  confusion,  whilst  it  did 
not  dispel  much  of  the  gloom.  It  was  indeed  a 
very  great  change  for  the  better  when  at  last  the 
City  authorities  removed  the  market  into  the 
suburbs. 

In  March,  1849,  during  excavations  necessary  for 
a  new  sewer,  and  at  a  depth: of  three  feet  below 
the  surface,  immediately  opposite  the  entrance  to 
the  church  of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Great,  the  work- 
men laid  open  a  mass  of  unhewn  stones,  blackened 
as  if  by  fire,  and  covered  with  ashes  and  human 
bones,  charred  and  partially  consumed.  This  was 
believed  to  have  been  the  spot  generally  used  for 
the  Smithfield  burnings,  the  face  of  the  victim 
being  turned  to  the  east  and  to  the  great  gate  of 


St.  Bartholomew,  the  prior  of  which  was  generally 
present  on  such  occasions.  Many  bones  were 
carried  away  as  relics.  Some  strong  oak  posts 
were  also  dug  up ;  they  had  evidently  been  charred 
by  fire,  and  in  one  of  them  was  a  staple  with  a 
ring  attached  to  it.  The  place  and  its  former 
history  were  too  significant  for  any  doubt  to  exist 
as  to  how  they  had  been  once  used.  Gazing  upon 
them  thoughtfully,  one  was  forcibly  reminded  of 
the  last  words  of  Bishop  Latimer  to  his  friend 
Ridley,  as  they  stood  bound  to  the  stake  at  Oxford : 
"  Be  of  good  comfort,  Master  Ridley,  and  play  the 
man;  we  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle,  by 
God's  grace,  in  England,  as  I  trust  shall  never  be 
put  out."  And  the  good  Latimer's  words  have 
come  true. 

Some  years  ago,  on  removing  the  foundations  of 
some  old  houses,  on  the  south  side  of  Long  Lane, 
a  considerable  quantity  of  human  remains  were  dis- 
covered— skulls  and  other  portions  of  the  skeletons. 
This  spot  was  understood  to  be  the  north-west 
corner  of  the  burying-ground  of  the  ancient  priory 
of  St.  Bartholomew.  The  skulls  were  thick  and 
grim-looking,  with  heavy,  massive  jaws,  just  as  one 
would  expect  to  find  in  those  sturdy  old  monks, 
whcc  were  the  schoolmen,  artists,  and  sages  of  their 
time. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 
THE  CHURCHES  OF  BARTHOLOMEW-THE-GREAT  AND  BARTHOLOMEW-THE-LESS. 

The  Old  Bartholomew  Priory^Its  Old  Privileges— Its  Revenues  and  Early  Seals— The  Present  Church— The  Refectory  of  the  Priory— The  Crypt 
and  Chapel — Various  Interesting  Remains  of  the  Old  Priory— The  Monuments  of  Rayer,  the  Founder,  Robert  Chamberlain,  and  Sir  Walter 
Mildmay— The  Smallpage  Family— The  Old  and  New  Vestry-rooms— The  Monument  to  Abigail  Coult— The  Story  of  Roger  Walden, 
Bishop  of  London— Dr.  Francis  Anthony,  the  Physician— His  Aurum  Poiabile—lhti  Priory  of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Great  as  an  Historical 
Centre— Visions  of  the  Past— Cloth  Fair— The  Dimensions  of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Great- Old  Monuments  in  St.  Bartholomew-the-Less- 
Injudicious  Alterations— The  Tower  of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Less— The  Tomb  of  Freke,  the  Eminent  Surgeon. 


In  1410,  when  the  priory  was  rebuilt,  it  was  entirely 
enclosed  with  walls,  the  boundaries  of  which  have 
been  carefully  traced  out  by  many  diligent  anti- 
quaries. The  north  wall  ran  from  Smithfield  along 
the  south  side  of  Long  Lane,  to  its  junction  with 
the  east  wall,  about  thirty  yards  west  from  Alders- 
gate  Street.  This  wall  is  mentioned  by  Stow,  and 
delineated  by  Aggas,  who  has  marked  a  small 
postern  gate  in  it,  which  stood  opposite  Charter- 
house Square,  where  there  is  now  (says  a  writer  in^ 
1846)  the  entrance  to  King  Street,  Cloth  Fair. 
The  west  wall  commenced  at  the  south-west 
comer  of  Long  Lane,  and  continued  along  Smith- 
field  and  the  middle  of  Due  Lane  (now  Duke 
Street)  to  the  south  gate,  or  Great  Gate  House, 
now  the  principal  entrance  to  Bartholomew  Close. 


The  south  wall,  starting  from  this  spot,  ran  east- 
ward in  a  direct  line  to  Aldersgate  Street,  where 
it  formed  an  angle,  and  passed  southwards  about 
forty  yards^  then  resumed  again  its  eastern  course, 
and  joined  the  corner  of  the  east  wall,  which  ran 
parallel  with  Aldersgate  Street,  at  the  distance  of 
■about  twenty-six  yards.  The  priory  wall  was 
fronted  by  the  houses  of  Aldersgate  Street,  London 
House  among  others,  between  which  and  the 
wall  ran  a  ditch.  At  the  demolition  of  this  wall 
various  encroachments  took  place,  which  led  to 
great  disputes  (especially  in  167 1)  about  the 
boundaries  between  the  privileged  parish  of  St. 
Bartholomew  and  the  City.  The  old  privileges 
of  Rayer's  Priory  and  precinct  were,  that  the 
parishioners  were  not  to  serve  on  juries,  and  could 


35= 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Bartholomew'a. 


appoint  their  own  constables ;  paid  few  City  rates, 
taxed  themselves,  and  were  not  required  to  become 
ifree  of  the  City  on  starting  in  business. 

When,  in  1539,  Sir  Richard  Rich  purchased  the 
church  and  priory  for  ;^i,o64  iis.  3d.,  the  thirteen 
frozen-out  canons  received  annuities  of  ;^6  13s.  4d. 
each.      Queen  Mary  granted   the   church  to  the 
Black  Friars,  but  they  had  but  a  short  reign,  and 
the  Riches,  Earls  of  Warwick  and  Holland,  came 
again  into  unrighteous  possession.     The  priory,  at 
the  dissolution,  was  valued  at  ;£6S3   15s.  a  year. 
The  revenues  were  principally  derived  from  small 
houses   in   the  parishes   of  St.  Nicholas  and   St. 
Sepulchre,  and  also  from  country  property,  such  as 
land  at  Stanmore,  and  in  Canonbury,  as  before  men- 
tioned.     The   chantries  were  very  rich,  and  the 
alms  and  oblations  were  abundant.     The  old  seals 
of  the  priory,  necessary  to  render  legal  any  aliena- 
tion of  rents  or  possessions,  were  kept  by  the  prior 
under  three  keys,  which  were  in  charge  of  the  prior 
and  two  brethren  specially  chosen.     The  earhest 
seals  of  the  priory  which  are  preserved  are  attached 
to  a  life  grant  of  the  church  of  St.  Sepulchre,  from 
Rayer   to   Haymon,   priest,    and    is   dated    1137. 
The  seal, of  the  reign  of  Edward  HI.  represents  St. 
Bartholomew  standing  on  a  Hon,  holding  a  knife 
(symbol  of  martyrdom)  in  his  left  hand,  and  a  book 
in  his  right.     On  either  side  of  him  is  a  shield,  on 
on  which  are  three  lions,  guardant,  passant.     This 
was  the  common  seal  of  the  hospital.     On  the  seal 
of  1341,  St.  Bartholomew  is  seated  on  a  throne, 
holding  a  knife  (so  appropriate  to  the  locality)  in 
his  left  hand ;  around  hini  are  the  heavens,  with 
moon  in  crescent,  and  twelve  stars ;  on  the  reverse 
is  a  boat,  with  a  church  in  it.     In  what  was  pro- 
bably the  last  seal,  the  saint  stands  under  a  canopy, 
which  is  supported  by  two  pillars. 

The  ruins  of  the  old  priory  were  less  hidden  and 
obliterated  when  the  writer  on  the  Priory  and 
Church  of  St.  Bartholomew  in  Knight's  "  London  " 
searched  for  them  than  they  are  now.  The  present 
church  is  merely  the  choir  of  the  old  priory  church. 
Its  front  was  probably  originally  in  a  line  with  the 
small  gateway  yet  remaining,  and  which  formerly 
led  to  the  southern  aisle  of  the  nave,  now  entirely 
destroyed.  The  gateway  was  a  finely-fronted  arch 
of  four  ribs,  each  with  receding  mouldings,  alter- 
nating with  Norman  zigzag  ornaments,  springing 
from  a  cluster  of  sculptured  heads.  In  Knight's 
time  the  south  wall,  once  the  wall  of  the  south  aisle, 
belonged  to  a  public-house  which  had  rooms  with 
arched  ceilings,  a  cornice  with  a  shield  extending 
through  three  of  them,  and  a  chalk  cellar.  These 
had  belonged  to  the  priory.  Among  costermongers' 
houses  and  sheds,  and  near  a  smith's  workshop, 


were  the  arches  of  the  east  cloister.  The  roof  ^d 
part  of  the  wall  fell  in  many  years  ago,  but  five 
arches  of  the  east  and  one  of  the  west  side  still 
remained.  A  fine  Norman  arch  leading  into  the 
aisle  was  walled  up.  In  several  parts  of  the  ruins 
of  the  cloister  the  groins  and  key-stones  and  elabo- 
rately carved  devices  were  still  visible.  It  was 
calculated  by  the  writer  in  Knight's  "London" 
that  the  cloisters  of  St.  Bartholomew's  were  nearly 
fifteen  feet  broad,  and  have  extended  round  the 
four  sides  of  a  square  of  nearly  100  feet. 

The  same  writer  describes  the  refectory 'of  the 
priory,  then  a  tobacco-manufactory,  divided  into  two 
or  three  stories,  as  originally  a  room  some  forty  feet 
high,  thirty  feet  broad,  and  120  feet  long,  finely 
roofed  with  oak.     The  ceilings  and  floors  of  the 
three  stories  were  evidently  temporary,  and  formed 
of  huge  timbers  plucked  from  the   original  roof. 
The    crypt,  which  ran   below   the   refectory,   still 
exists.     It  is  of  immense  length,  with  a  double  row 
of  beautiful  aisles,  and  in  perfect  preservation.    A 
door  in  this  vault  is  traditionally  supposed  to  lead 
to  Canonbury.      Perhaps,  says  one  writer,  it  was 
really  used  as  a  mode  of  escape  by  the  Noncon- 
formist ministers  who  occupied  the  adjoining  chapel 
during  part  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  cen- 
turies.    "  It   opened   till   lately,"  says   Mr.  Dela- 
motte,   in    1846,    "into    a    cellar   that    extended 
beneath  the   chapel,  and  where    the   fire    broke 
out,  in   1830,  that  destroyed  the  latter,  and  some 
other  interesting  parts  of  the   old  priory."    The 
chapel  formed  part  of  the  monastic  buildings,  but 
what  part,  is  unknown.     It  had  an  ancient  timber 
roof,  and  a  beam  projecting  across  near  the  centre, 
and   in   a   comer  there   is  said  to  have  been  an 
antique  piece   of  sculpture,  representing  a  priest 
with  a  child  in  his  arms  (probably  some  saint  and 
the  infant  Jesus).      In  several  parts  of  the  walls 
were    marks  of  private  doors.      This  chapel  had 
been     occupied    by    Presbyterian    ministers    till 
1753;  when  Wesley  obtained  possession  of  it,  and 
opened  it  for  his  followers.     It  is  supposed  that 
Lord  Rich's  house  occupied  the  site  of  the  prior's 
stables  and  wood-yard,  and  that  an  old  house  with 
a  vaulted  ceiling  and  a  fine  carved  mantelpiece 
marks  the  spot,  near  Middlesex  Passage,  where  tiie 
mulberry-garden  stood,  the  last  tree  in  which  was 
cut  down  about  1846. 

At  the  back  of  the  present  church,  and  between 
it  and  Red  Lion  Passage,  stood  the  prior's  house. 
It  may  still  be  traced  by  its  massive  walls,  square 
flat  pillars,  and  fluted  capitals,  and  the  old  dormi- 
tory, which  some  years  ago  was  occupied  by  gimp- 
spinners.  There  are  also  remains  of  the  south 
transept,  and  the  ruins  still  heaped  there  comprise 


StBarthoiomeVs.]       THE  JESTER  FOUNDER  OF  ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S. 


353 


also  the  chapter-house,  which  stood  between  the 
old  vestry  and  the  transept.  There  were  traces  for- 
merly of  the  once  beautiful  arch,  that  led  into  the 
chapter-house,  and  there  is  also  a  fragment  of  the 
wall  of  the  transept.  The  picturesque-looking  low 
porch,  with  its  deep  pent-house,  says  one  writer 
on  the  subject,  now  the  entrance  into  the  church 
from  the  transept,  was  formerly  an  entrance  into 
St.  Bartholomew's  Chapel.  In  Cloth  Fair  a  narrow 
passage  points  to  the  position  of  the  north  transept. 
Extending  from  the  sides  of  the  choir  north  and 
south,  and  partly  over  the  aisles,  were  buildings 
used  as  schools;  that  on  the  south  was  burnt  in 
the  fire  of  1830;  the  other  still  exists,  and  it  con-, 
tains  two  of  the  fine  circular  arches  that  form  the 
second  tier  of  the  choir. 

Within  the  porch  of  St.  Bartholomew's  are  the  re- 
mains of  a  very  elegant  pointed  arch,  that  probably 
led  into  the  cloisters.  The  aisles  are  separated 
from  the  choir  by  solid  pillars  and  square  piers 
indifferently,  from  which  spring  five  semicircular 
arches  on  either  side.  The  arches  next  the  choir 
are  adorned  with  billet  moulding,  which  does  not 
cease  with  the  arch,  but,  in  some  places,  is  con- 
tinued horizontally  over  the  cap  of  the  column, 
until  it  meets  the  next  arch.  The  triforium  has 
similar  arches,  each  opening  being  divided  into 
four  compartments  by  small  Norman  columns  and 
arches,  formerly  bricked  up,  but  now  re-opened. 
The  prior's  state  pew  is  a  bay,  or  oriel,  probably 
.added  by  Prior  Bolton,  on  the  south  side.  His 
rebus  is  upon  it.  This  oriel  communicated  with 
the  priory,  and  was  where  the  prior  assisted  at  the 
service,  in  all  the  pride  of  feigned  humility,  and 
from  this  point  of  vantage  Tie  could  watch  his 
thirteen  canons.  There  are  similar  oriels,  says  Mr. 
Godwin,  in  Malmesbury  Abbey,  and  in  Exeter 
Cathedral. 

There  is  a  clerestory  above  the  triforium,  with 
pointed  windows,  and  a  passage  the  whole  length 
of  the  building.  The  roof  is  of  timber,  divided 
into  compartments  by  a  tie-beam  and  king-post, 
the  corbels  resting  on  angels'  heads.  There  also 
remains  a  portion  of  the  transepts. 

"One  of  the  most  interesting  features  of  the  choir," 
says  Mr.  Delamotte,  "  is  the  long-continued  aisle,  or 
series  of  aisles,  which  entirely  encircle  it,  opening 
into  the  former  by  the  spaces  between  the  flat  and 
circular  arch-piers  of  the  body  of  the  structure.  It 
is  about  twelve  feet  wide,  with  a  pure  arched  and 
vaulted  ceiling,  in  the  simplest  and  truest  Norman 
style,  and  with  windows  of  different  sizes,  slightly 
pointed.  The  pillars  against  the  wall,  opposite  the 
entrance  into  the  choir,  are  flat,  apparently  made 
so  for  the  convenience  of  the  sitters.    One  of  the 


most  ^eautifiil  little  architectural  effects,  of  a 
simple  kind  that  we  can  conceive  is  to  be  found 
at  the  north-eastern  corner  of  the  aisle.  Between 
two  of  the  grand  Norman  pillars,  projecting  from 
the  wall,  is  a  low  postern  doorway,  and  above, 
rising  on  each  side  from  the  capitals,  a  peculiarly 
elegant  arch,  something  like  an  elongated  horse- 
shoe. The  connection  between  two  styles  so 
strikingly  different  in  most  respects,  as  the  Moorish, 
with  its  fantastic  delicacy  (?),  variety,  and  richness, 
and  the  Norman,  with  its  simple  (occasionally  un- 
couth) grandeur,  was  never  more  apparent.  That 
little  picture  is  alone  worth  a  visit  to  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's." The  postern  leads  into  a  curious  place, 
enclosed  by  the  end  of  the  choir  (or  altar  end) 
on  one  side,  and  the  circular  wall  of  the  eastern 
aisle  on  the  other,  'it  is  supposed  by  Mr.  Godwin 
to  have  been  the  chancel  of  the  original  building, 
and  no  doubt  it  was,  if  we  are  to  suppose  that  the 
altar  wall  has  undergone  great  changes.  At  present 
the  space  is  so  liarrow,  and  so  dark,  that  it  need 
not  surprise  us  to  hear  that  it  is  called  the  Pur- 
gatory. We  have  no  doubt  that  this  part  has  been 
visible,  in  some  way,  from  the  choir,  and  not,, as  it 
is  now,  entirely  excluded  from  it;  for  a  pair  of 
exactly  similar  pillars,  with  a  beautiful  arch  above, 
standing  at  the  south-east  corner  of  the  aisle,  are, 
in  a  great  measure,  shut  in  here. 

The  monument  of  Rayer  (or  Rahere),  the  founder 
of  the  priory,  the  pious  jester  of  Henry  I.,  is 
in  the  north-east  corner  of  the  church,  next  the 
altar,  and  almost  exactly  opposite  Prior  Bolton's 
beautiful  oriel  window.  Bolton  restored  this  tomb 
with  pious  care,  and  may  have  placed  his  window 
so  as  to  command  a  perpetual  view  of  that  memento 
mori.  This  monument  is  of  a  much  later  date 
than  the  period  of  Rayer's  death.  It  consists  of 
a  highly-wrought  stone  screen,  of  pointed  Gothic, 
enclosing  a  tomb,  on  which,  under  a  canopy,  rests 
the  prior's  effigy.  The  roof  of  the  tomb  is  exqui- 
sitely groined.  Except  a  few  of  the  pinnacles,  the 
monument  is  still  uninjured,  and  Time  has  watched 
kindly  over  the  good  man's  grave.  A  crowned 
angel  kneels  at  Rayer's  feet,  and  monks  of  his 
order  pray  by  his  side.  Each  of  the  monks  has  a 
Bible  before  him,  open  at  Isa.  li.,  which  contains 
the  following  verse,  so  applicable  to  the  church 
built  on  the  marsh : — "  The  Lord  shall  comfort 
Zion :  he  will  comfort  all  her  waste  places ;  and  he 
will  make  her  wilderness  like  Eden,  and  her  desert 
like  the  garden  of  the  Lord;  joy  and  gladness 
shall  be  found  therein,  thanksgiving,  and  the  voice 
of  melody." 

"  Besides  the  choir  of  the  old  church,"  says  Mr. 
Godwin,  "  there  remains  a  portion  of  the  transepts, 


354 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Barthotomew^ 


and  of  the  nave,  at  their  junction  with  it,  over 
which  rose  a  tower.  At  the  commencement  of 
each  transept;  a  large  arch,  spanning  its  whole 
width,  springs  from  the  capitals  of  slender  clustered 
columns,  and,  at  the  end  of  the  nave  and  com- 
mencement of  the  choir,  other  arches  (the  width  of 
the  church)  spring  from  corbels,  sculptured  to  re- 
present the  capitals  of  similar  columns.  The  four 
arches  are  surrounded  by  zigzag  ornaments.  Of 
these  arches,  those  at  the  intersection  of  the  tran- 


of  Robert  Chamberlain.  It  is  of  very  dark  brown 
marble,  and  consists  of  a  figure  of  a  man  in  com- 
plete armour,  kneeling  in  state  under  an  alcove, 
while  two  angels  are  drawing  aside  the  curtains. 
The  monument  of  James  Rivers  bears  the  date  1641 
(eve  of  the  Civil  War),  and  bears  this  inscription— 

"  Within  this  hollow  vault  there  rests  the  frame 
Of  the  high  soul  which  once  informed  the  same ; 
Tom  from  the  service  of  the  State  in  's  prime 
By  a  disease  malignant  as  the  time  ; 


RAYER'S   TOMB. 


septs  are  pointed,  and  have  been  referred  to  as 
among  the  various  instances  of  the  incidental  use 
made  of  the  pointed  arch  in  early  buildings,  before 
it  became  a  component  part  of  a  system,  at  least  in 
England."  "  The  cause  for  this,"  says  Mr.  Britton, 
the  famous  antiquary,  "was  evident;  for  those 
sides  of  the  tower  being  much  narrower  than  the 
east  and  west  divisions,  which  are  formed  of  semi- 
circular arches,  it  became  necessary  to  carry  the 
arches  of  the  former  to  a  point,  in  order  to  suit  the 
oblong  plan  of  the  intersection,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  make  the  upper  mouldings  and  lines  range 
with  the  corresponding  members  of  the  circular 
arches." 

One  of  the  finest  monuments  in  the  choir  is  that 


Whose  life  and  death  designed  no  other  end 
Than  to  serve  God,  his  country,  and  his  friend ; 
Who,  when  ambition,  :tyranny,  and  pride 
Conquered  the  age,  conquered  himself,  and  died." 

Beyond  is  a  sumptuous  and  curious  transitional 
monument,  half-classic,  half-Gothic,  in  memory  of 
Sir  Walter  Mildmay,  1689.  This  gentleman,  the 
generous  founder  of  Emanuel  College,  Cambridge, 
held  offices  under  Henry  VIIL  and  Edward  VL ; 
and,  though  not  compliant  enough,  was  made  by 
Elizabeth  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

In  the  comet-  next  to  Sir  Walter's  monument  is 
that  to  the  memory  of  the  Smallpage  family  (1558), 
which  is  of  very  dark  marble.  It  contains  two 
busts,  one  of  a  male,  the  other  of  a  female.    The 


St.  Bartholomew's.] 


THE  MONUMENTS. 


355 


356 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Bartholomew's. 


former  has  a  fine  face  and  a  double-peaked  beard ; 
the  latter,  in  a  full  ruff,  looks  rather  a  Tartar. 

In  the  spandrils  of  some  of  the  arches  of  this 
church  there  are  ornaments  which  resemble  the 
Grecian  honeysuckle,  and  which  are  unusual  in 
Gothic  work.  A  small  bit  of  the  old  nave  is  now 
used  as  the  organ-loft  j  and  over  what  was  once 
part  of  the  aisle  of  the  nave  rises  the  poor  brick 
tower,  built  in  1628.  The  vestry-room  is  part  of 
the  south  transept,  and  a  magnificent  chapel  once 
stood  on  the  east  side  of  this  transept.  When  the 
ill-judged  classic  altar-piece  was  taken  down,  some 
years  ago,  the  stone  wall  was  found  painted  bright 
red,  and  spotted  with  black  stars.  The  chamber 
between  the  choir  and  the  east  aisle,  early  in  this 
century,  contained  several  thousand  bones. 

Near  the  junction  of  the  south  and  east  aisles 
is  the  old  vestry-room,  a  solemn,  ancient  place, 
probably  once  an  oratory.  The  present  vestry,  a 
mere  place  for  registers  and  surplices,  is  built  over 
the  southern  aisle.  Here  is  a  beautiful  Norman 
semicircular  arch,  forming  one  of  a  range  of  arches 
by  which  the  second  storey  of  the  choir  was  pro- 
bably continued  at  a  right  angle  along  the  sides  of 
the  transept.  "  Among  the  monuments  of  the  aisles 
is  one  in  the  form  of  a  rose,  with  an  inscription  to 
Abigail  Coult,  1629,  who  died  "in  the  sixteenth 
year  of  her  virginity.''  Her  father,  Maximilian 
Coult,  or  Colte,  was  a  famous  sculptor  of  the  time, 
and  was  employed  by  James  I.  in  various  public 
buildings.  In  the  office-book  of  the  Board  of  Works 
appears  the  line,  "  Max.  (jolte.  Master  Sculptor,  at 
^8  a  year,  1633."  Filling  up  the  beautiful  horse- 
shoe arch,  which  it  thus  conceals,  at  the  south- 
eastern corner,  is  the  monument  of  Edward  Cooke. 
There  appears  to  have  been  attached  to  the  northern 
aisle — probably  corresponding  in  position  with  the 
old  vestry — another  chapel. 

In  Walden  Chapel,  on  the  north  side  of  the  altar, 
Roger  Walden,  Bishop  of  London,  was  buried  (in- 
stead of  in  St.  Paul's — but  why,  no  one  can  guess). 
"  Never  had  any  man,"  says  Weever,  "  better  ex- 
perience of  the  uncertainty  of  worldly  felicity." 
"Raised,"  says  Mr.  Delamotte,  "from  the  con- 
dition of  a  poor  man  by  his  industry  and  ability, 
he  became  successively  Dean  of  York,  Treasurer 
of  Calais,  Secretary  to  the  King,  and  Treasurer  of 
England.  When  Archbishop  Arundel  fell  under 
the  displeasure  of  Richard  II.,  and  was  banished, 
Walden  was  made  Primate  of  England.  On  the 
re.tum  of  Arundel,  in  company  with  Bolingbroke, 
and  the  ascent  of  the  latter  to  the  throne,  Arundel 
of  course  resumed  his  archiepiscopal  rank  and 
functions,  and  Roger  Walden  becarae  again  a 
private  individual.      Arundel,  however,   behaved 


very  nobly  to  the  man  whom  he  must  have  looked 
on  as  a  usurper  of  his  place,  for  he  conferred  on 
him  the  bishopric  of  London.  Walden  did  not 
live  long  to  be  grateful  for  this  ^  very  honourable 
and  kindly  act,  for  he  died  within  the  ensuing  year. 
'  He  may  be  compared,  to  one  so  jaw-fallen,'  says 
Fuller,  in  his  usual  quaint,  homely  style,  'with  over- 
long  fasting,  that  he  cannot  eat  meat  when  brought 
unto  him ;  and  his  spirits  were  so  depressed  with 
his  former  ill-fortunes,  that  he  could  not  enjoy  him- 
self in  his  new  unexpected  happiness.'" 

In  St.  Bartholomew-the-Great  was  buried,  in  1623, 
Dr.  Francis  Anthony,  a  learned  physician  and 
chemist  of  the  reign  of  James  I.,  who  was  frequently 
fined  and  imprisoned  by  the  London  College  of 
Physicians  for  practising  physic  without  a  licence. 
Dr.  Anthony,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  generous 
and  honest  man,  prided  himself  on  the  discovery 
of  a  universal  medicine,  which  he  called  aurumpta- 
bile,  or  potable  gold,  which,  he  mixed  with  mercury. 

"  Dr.  Anthony,"  says  Mr.  Delamotte,  "  published 
a  very  learned  and  modest  defence  of  himself  and 
his  aurum  potabile,  in  Latin,  written  with  great 
decency,  much  skill  in  chemistry,  and  with  an 
apparent  knowledge  in  the  theory  and  practice  of 
physic.  In  the  preface  he.  says  '  that  after  inex- 
pressible labour,  watching,  and  expense,  he  had, 
through  the  blessing  of  God,  attained  all  he  had 
sought  for  in  his  inquiries.'  In  the  second  chapter 
of  his  work  he  affirms  that  his  medicine  is  a  kind 
of  extract  or  honey  of  gold,  capable  of  being  dis- 
solved in  any  liquor  whatsoever,  and  referring  to 
the  common  objection  of  the  affinity  between  the 
aurum  potabile  and  the  philosopher's  stone,  does 
not  deny  the  transmutation  of  metals,  but  still 
shows  that  there  is  a  great  difference  between  the 
two,  and  that  the  finding  or  not  finding  of  the 
one  does  not  at  all  render  it  inevitable,  that  the 
other  shall  also  be  discovered,  or  remain  hidden. 
The  price  of  the  medicine  was  five  shillings  an 
ounce.  Wonderful  cures,  of  course,  are  displayed 
in  the  doctor's  pages.  His  publication  produced 
quite  a  controversy  on  the  merits  of  aurum  potOr 
bile.  We  need  not  wonder  to  find  that  Dr.  An- 
thony had  impUcit  believers  in  the  value  of  his. 
nostrum,  when  we  see  the  great  chemist  and 
philosopher,  Boyle,  thus  commenting  on  such  pre- 
parations :  '  Though  I  have  long  been  prejudiced 
against  the  pretended  aurum  potabile,  and  other 
boasted  preparations  of  gold,  for  most  of  which  I 
have  still  no  great  esteem,  yet  I  saw  such  extra- 
ordinary and  surprising  effects  from  the  tincture  of 
gold  I  spake  of  (prepared  by  two  foreign  phy- 
sicians) upon  persons  of  great  note  with  whom  I 
was  particularly  acquainted,  both  before  they  fell 


St.Bartholomew's,] 


CLOTH  FAIR. 


357 


desperately  sick  and  after  their  strange  recovery, 
that  I  could  not  but  change  my  opinion  for  a  very 
favourable  one  as  to  some  preparations  of  gold.' " 

A  local  antiquary,  who  is  as  learned  as  he  is 
itnaginative,  has  furnished  us  with  some  notes  on 
the  priory  and  its  neighbourhood,  of  which  we 
gladly  avail  ourselves  : — 

"  Excepting  the  tower  and  its  immediate  neigh- 
bourhood," says  the  writer,  "  there  is  no  part  of 
London,  old  or  new,  around  which  are  clustered 
so  many  events  interesting  in  history,  as  that  of 
the  Priory  of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Great,  and  its 
vicinity.  There  are  narrow,  tortuous  streets,  and 
still  narrower  courts,  about  Cloth  Fair,  where  are 
hidden  away  scores  of  old  houses,  whose  pro- 
jecting eaves  and  overhanging  floors,  heavy  cum- 
brous beams,  and  wattle  and  plaster  walls,  must 
have  seen  the  days  of  the  Plantagenets  and  the 
earlier  Tudors.  There  are  remains  of  groined 
arches,  and  windows  with  ancient  tracery,  strong 
buttresses,  and  beautiful  portals,  with  toothed  and 
ornate  archways,  belonging  to  times  long  anterior 
to  Wycliffe  and  John  of  Gaunt,  yet  to  be  found 
lurking  behind  dark,  uncanny-looking  tenements. 
To  the  real  lover  of  the  past  history  of  our  great 
City;  to  the  earnest  inquirer  into  the  rise  and 
progress  of  our  present  civilisation;  to  the  pious 
student  of  the  earlier  times  of  our  English  Church, 
and  her  struggles  after  freedom,  there  is  no  part  of 
modern  London  that  will  better  reward  a  careful 
survey  than  that  now  under  our  consideration. 

"  Note  that  dark  archway  yonder.  Fully  seven 
centuries  have  passed  since  the  hand  of  some  good 
lay  brother  traced  its  bold  outline,  and  worked 
with  cunning  mallet  and  chisel  the  beautiful 
beading  and  its  toothed  ornaments.  And  in  the 
old  times,  when  Chaucer  was  young,  and  his  Can- 
terbury Pilgrims  were  men  and  women  of  the 
period,  processions  of  cowled  monks  and  chanting 
boys,  with  censers  and  crucifix,  wended  their  way 
from  the  old  priory  to  that  of  the  Black  Friars,  by 
the  Thames ;  and  not  unfrequently,  when  Edward 
III.  and  his  favourite  AUce  Pierce  had  spent  the 
morning  in  witnessing  the  tournay  of  mailed  knights 
in  Smithfield,  have  they  and  their  attendants,  with 
all  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  chivalry,  passed 
beneath  this  old  gateway  to  the  grand  entertain- 
ments provided  by  the  good  prior  for  their  de- 
lectation, in  the  great  refectory  beyond  the  south 
cloisters.  Rhenish  and  Cyprus  wines,  with  sack 
and  strong  waters,  were  there  in  plenty,  and  geese, 
swans,  bustards,  and  lordly  peacocks,  graced  the 
well-filled  board,  with  venison  pasties  and  the 
boar's  head  ready  at  hand ;  whilst  all  such  fruits  as 
were  then  naturalised  amongst  us  were  reared  by 


the  careful  fathers  in  their  garden  at  Canonbury, 
for  the  use  of  the  good  prior's  table. 

"  In  later  years  the  solemn,  weather-worn  stones 
of  this  old  archway  have  had  sad  scenes  to  frown 
upon,  and  yet,  nearer  our  own  day,  merry  parties 
have  gambolled  and  frisked  beneath  the  ancient 
portal,  as  they  wended  their  way  to  the  pandemo- 
nium of  mirth  and  folly  in  Bartholomew  Fair. 

"  In  the  Great  Close,  where  is  now  a  row  of 
dilapidated  houses,  was  once  the  west  cloister  of 
the  priory,  and  here,  as  we  turn,  was  the  south 
cloister,  just  beyond  which  was,  until  quite  lately, 
the  remains  of  the  great  refectory.  Beneath  it  was 
much  of  the  ancient  crypt,  with  its  deep  groined 
arches,  more  than  half  buried  under  the  ddbris  of 
ages.  Some  portion  of  this  is  still  left  us,  beneath 
the  modern  buildings  erected  on  the  spot. 

"  As  we  go  round  the  Great  Close,  towards  the 
other  end  of  the  church,  we  pass  by  some  very  old 
houses,  that  occupy  the  place  where  was  once  the 
east  cloisters.  Behind  these  houses  used  to  be  a 
great  mulberry-tree,  only  removed  in  our  own  time. 
This  was  formerly  the  centre  of  the  cloister  court. 
You  fancy  you  see  a  tall,  bareheaded  man,  in 
monkish  garb  of  grey,  his  rosaiy  dangling-  by  his 
side,  as  he  stands  near  a  pillar  of  the  cloister, 
deeply  immersed  in  the  breviary  he  holds  in  his 
hand.  See  his  sandled  feet,  and  his  long  grey 
beard ;  he  is  the  personal  friend  of  the  good  Prior 
Rayer.  Now  he  moves,  and  silently  steps  across 
the  grass  towards  the  big  mulberry-tree,  where  he 
sits  down  upon  a  stone  seat  beneath  its  umbrageous 
branches,  and  laying  down  his  book,  he  takes  from 
the  folds  of  his  habit  a  scroll.  Slowly  he  unrolls  it, 
and  carefully  studies  the  curious  lines,  curves,  and 
ornaments  drawn  thereon.  That  old  monk  is  the 
good  Alfune,  the  builder  of  St.  Giles's,  Cripplegate. 

"See  here,  is  the  prior's  house,  its  big  stones 
hidden  under  a  casing  of  bricks  anfd  stucco,  whilst 
here  and  there,  like  big  rocks,  a  buttress  crops  out, 
an  enormity  quite  unsuited  to  the  gingerbread 
buildings  of  modern  times.  But  these  good  monkish 
architects  built  more  for  the  future  than  for  them- 
selves. Look  above :  there,  where  is  now  a  row  of 
windows  to  a  fringe  factory  was  once  the  dormitory, 
or  '  dormite,'  of  the  monks.  They  needed  looking- 
after  sometimes,  so  the  prior  wisely  kept  them  near 
himself  at  night. 

"  Let  us  go  along  this  dark  and  narrow  passage. 
Now  we  are  in  Cloth  Fair.  This  is  where  the 
ancient  cloth  fair  was  held,  to  which  came  mer- 
chants from  Flanders  and  Italy,  with  their  precious 
wares  for  the  sons  and  daughters  of  old  London. 
How  aged  some  of  these  houses  are  !  floor  leaning 
over  floor,  until  you  may  fancy  they  are  toppling 


3S8 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Bartholomew^j. 


upon  you.  Now  come  with  me  under  this  low 
gateway,  and  take  my  hand,  for  it  is  quite  dark 
here,  and  we  must  walk  in  Indian  file,  the  space  is 
so  narrow.  Between  the  houses  and  the  low  wall, 
as  your  eyes  become  used  to  the  deep  gloom,  yoa 
will  notice  that  the  first  floor  entirely  covers  the 
narrow  court  behind,  and  is  supported  on  posts, 
and  the  next  leaning  over  the  one  beneath  it. 
These  houses  have  seen  many  generations  of 
tenants,  and  in  some  of  them  the  old  cloth  business 
is  still  carried  on.  Now  peep  over  the  wall  on  your 
left.  You  will  find  the  level  much  lower  there,  for 
they  have  lately  been  clearing  away  some  of  the 
accumulated  rubbish,  and  '  dust  and  ashes '  of  past 
ages,  and  have  exposed  to  view  some  beautiful 
windows,  that  formed  part  of  the  prior's  house, 
perhaps  the  infirmary,  or  'firmary,'  as  that  was 
under  the  same  roof,  or  a  portion  of  the  crypt, 
used  for  such  a  purpose  mayhap.  Past  these  very 
windows  the  old  priors  of  the  monastery  must 
have  gone  to  the  service  in  the  church.  Let  us 
follow,  and  note,  as  we  step  into  the  ancient  Nor- 
man aisle,  the  finely-curved  semicircular  arches,  and 
the  curious  nooks  and  crannies,  only  to  be  found 
in  such  places.  See,  we  have  to  go  through  that 
small  door  near  the  purgatory  into  the  choir. 

"  What  a  blaze  of  light !  There  are  scores  of 
tapers  on  the  altar,  the  crucifix,  emblazoned  ban- 
ners, and  the  rich  vestments  of  the  officiating 
priests;  and  as  they  cross  and  recross  the  tes- 
sellated floor  of  the  chancel,  note  that  they  make 
each  time  low  genuflexions  towards  the  altar. 
Mark  the  incense-bearers,  swinging  the  spicy 
odours  to  and  fro,  which  is  wafted  towards  us,  and 
mingles,  as  it  were,  with  the  loud  pealing  of  the 
organ  and  the  sweet  chanting  of  the  boy  choristers, 
and  the  low  responses  of  the  cowled  brethren  of 
the  priory. 

"  Now  they  pass  in  procession  round  the  church, 
along  the  choir,  and  down  the  lofty  nave,  towards 
the  beautiful  entrance-gate.  Anon  they  return,  and 
on  reaching  the  altar-tomb  of  their  founder,  Rayer, 
they  stop,  a  priest  swings  a  censer  to  and  fro  before 
it,  whilst  all  kneel  and  cross  themselves;  then 
again  they  move  towards  the  altar,  and  as  the  choir 
ceases  chanting,  the  last  notes  of  the  organ  are 
heard  reverberating  along  the  lofty  roof.  The 
brethren  follow  each  other  slowly  towards  the  door, 
the  tapers  are  extinguished  one  by  one,  and  thus 
the  pageant  fades  from  our  imagination ;  and  once 
more  we  find  ourselves  in  Smithfield,  outside  the 
Cloth  Fair  gate  of  the  ancient  Priory  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew." 

The  dimensions  of  this  most  interesting  church, 
half  Norman,  half  early  English,  are  generally  given 


thus  :  The  height  about  40  feet,  the  breadth  60  feet 
the  length  138  feet;  add  to  this  87  feet  for  the 
length  of  the  destroyed  nave,  and  we  have  223  feet 
as  the  entire  length  of  the  church  of  Rayer's 
priory.  The  church  was  much  injured  in  the^fire 
of  1830,  when  a  portion  of  the  middle  roof  of  the 
south  aisle  fell. 

When  Rayer,  on  his  return  from  doing  penance 
at  Rome,  built  a  hospital  in  Smithfield,  in  per- 
formance of  a  vow  made  in  sickness,  he  added  to 
it  that  chapel  which  is  now  called  St.  Bartholomew- 
the-Less,  which,  after  the  dissolution,  became  a 
parish  church  for  those  living  within  the  hospital 
precinct.  In  Stow's  time  the  church  seems  to 
have  been  full  of  old  monuments  and  brasses  of 
the  fifteenth  and  later  centuries,  a  few  of  which 
only  have  been  preserved. 

Among  those  which  no  longer  remain  were  two 
brass  effigies,  "  in  the  habit  of  pilgrims,"  with  an 
inscription,  commencing — 

"  Behold  how  ended  is 
The  poor  pilgrimage 
Of  John  Shirley,  Esquire, 
With  Margaret,  his  wife," 

and  ending  with  the  date  1456.  "This  Shirley," 
says  Mr.  Godwin,  "  appears  to  have  been  a  traveller 
in  various  countries.  He  collected  the  works  of 
Chaucer,  John  Lydgate,  and  other  learned  writers, 
'  which  works  he  wrote  in  sundry  volumes,  to  re- 
main for  posterity.'  '  I  have  seen  them,'  says 
Stow,  '  and  partly  do  possess  them.'  Such  of  the 
epitaphs  as  Stow  omitted  to  mention  were  recorded 
by  Weever,  in  his  'Funeral  Monuments.'  The 
earliest  of  them  was  as  follows  : — 

'  The  xiiii.c.  yere  of  our  Lord  and  eight, 
Passyd  Sir  Robart  Greuil  to  God  Almight, 
The  xii.  day  of  April ;  Broder  of  this  place, 
Jesu  for  his  mercy  rejoice  him  with  his  grace.' 

"  The  length  of  the  church,  at  the  beginning  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  was  99  feet,  and  the  breadth 
was  42  feet,  except  in  the  chancel,  the  narrowness 
of  which  latter,  however,  was  more  than  counter- 
balanced by  a  chapel  on  the  north  side." 

In  1789,  Mr.  George  Dance,  the  architect  and 
surveyor  to  the  hospital,  repaired  the  church,  by 
first  destroying  the  whole  interior,  leaving  only  the 
old  walls,  the  vestibule,  and  the  square  tower.  Dry 
rot  very  soon  setting  in,  in  an  aggravated  form, 
Mr.  Hardwick,  in  1823,  commenced  the  rebuilding, 
turning  out  Mr.  Dance's  timber  octagon,  and  re- 
placing it  with  stone  and  iron.  It  was  then  found 
that  Mr.  Dance,  in  his  contempt  for  Gothic  archi- 
tecture, had  ruthlessly  cut  away  altar-tombs  and 
such  mediaeval  trifles.  The  result  of  all  this  in- 
competent tinkering  is  a  compo  tower  and  an  iron 


St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital.] 


ST.   BARTHOLOMEW'S  HOSPITAL. 


359 


roof.  In  the  east  window  are  several  saints,  the 
aims  of  Henry  VIII.  and  the  hospital,  and  those 
of  various  hospital  treasurers.  North  of  the  com- 
munion-table is  a  tablet  in  memory  of  the  wife  of 
Thomas  Bodley,  Elizabeth's  ambassador  in  France 
and  Germany,  and  the  generous  founder  of  the 
great  library  at  Oxford.  In  this  church  there  is 
also  a  monument  to  Henry  Earle,  surgeon,  of  St. 
Bartholomew's,  which  was  erected  to  this  amiable 
man  in  1838.  In  the  lobby  that  leads  to  the 
western  porch,  where  a  sexton  hung  himself  in 
1838,  there  is  a  canopied  altar-tomb  and  several 
relics  of  old  Gothic  sculpture.  Among  others,  a 
niche  containing  che  figure  of  an  angel  bearing  a 
shield,  and  beneath  it  the  arms  of  Edward  the 
Gonfessor,  impaled  with  those  of  England. 

Near  Mr.  Earle's  tablet  is  a  large  monument, 
presenting  a  kneeling  figure  beneath  an  entablature, 
supported  on  two  columns,  and  inscribed  to  Robert 
Balthrope : — 

"  Who  Sergeant  of  the  Surgeons  sworn 

Nes-r  thirty  years  had  been. 

He  dyed  at  siitty-nine  of  years, 

Deeember's  iJWth  the  day  ; 

The  year  of  grace  eight  hundred  tis-ice, 

Deducting  nine  away." 
The  tower  of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Less  contains 
some  fine  Norman  and  early  English  arches  and 
pillai'S.      The   piscina    from  the  ancient  church 


is  used  as  a  font.  A  beautiful  chancel  has  been 
built,  in  the  style  of  the  Lady  chapels  in,  Normandy. 
The  pulpit  and  reredos  are  marble  apd  alabaster, 
with  bas-relief  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and 
the  stained  glass  windows  are  by  Powell.  The 
parish  register  records  the  baptism  of  the  celebrated 
Inigo  Jones,  son  of  a  Welsh  clothworker,  residing 
at  or  near  Cloth  Fair;  and  the  burial,  in  1664,  of 
James  Heath,  a  Cavalier  chronicler  of  the  Civil 
Wars,  who  slandered  Cromwell,  and  has  been 
branded  by  Carlisle,  in  consequence,  as  "  Carrion 
Heath."  He  was  buried  near  the  screen  door,  says 
Aubrey. 

Upon  entering  the  chapel  there  is,  immediately 
upon  your  left  hand,  a  remarkably  curious  tomb 
of  the  fireplace  kind,  most  elaborately  wrought. 
It  is  the  tomb  of  Freke,  the  senior  surgeon  of  St. 
Bartholomew's  Hospital,  who  wrote  many  works 
upon  surgery,  still  to  be  found  in  its  library.  His 
bust  is  to.be  seen  in  the  museum  of  the  hos- 
pital, and  he  is  represented  by  Hogarth,  in 
the  last  plate  of  "The  Stages  of  Cruelty,"  presid- 
ing aloft  over  the  dissecting-table,  and  pointing 
with  a  long  wand  to  the  dead  "subject,"  upon 
whom  he  is  lecturing  to  the  assembled  students. 
There  is  likewise  in  the  office  of  St.  Bartholomew's 
a  curious  large  wooden  chandelier,  which  Freke 
carved  with  his  own  hand. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

ST.  BARTHOLOMEW'S  HOSPITAL.. 

Its  Early  History— The  Presidency  of  the  Royal  Hospitals— Thomas  Vicary— Harvey,  the  Famous  Physician— The  Great  Quadrangle  of  the 
Hospital  Rebuilt— The  Museums,  Theatres,  and  Library  of  St  Bartholomew's— The  Great  Abernethy— Dr.  Percival  Pott— A  Lucky 
Fracture- Great  Surgeons  at  St.  Bartholomew's— Hogarth's  Pictures— Samaritan  Fund— View  Day— Cloth  Fair— Duck  Lane. 


St,  Bartholomew's  Hospital  was  founded  by 
Rayer,  the  jester  or  minstrel  of  Henry  I.  At  the 
dissolution  the  fat,  greedy  hands  of  Henry  VIII., 
that  spared  no  gold  that  would  melt,  whether  it  was 
God's  or  man's,  soon  had  a  grip  of  it,  but,  for  very 
shame,  at  the  petition  of  Sir  Richard  Gresham, 
Lord  Mayor  and  father  of  the  builder  of  the  Royal 
Exchange,  he  turned  it  over  to  the  City.  The  king 
then,  in  1546,  says  Mr.  Timbs,  "vested  the  Hospital 
of  St.  Bartholomew  iij  the  mayor,  commonalty, 
and  citizens  of  London,  and  their  successors,  for 
ever,  in  consideration  of  a  payment  by  them  of 
500  marks  a  year  towards  its  maintenance,  and 
with  it  the  nomination  and  appointment  of  all 
the  officers.  In  September,  1557,  at  a  general 
court  of  the  governors  of  all  the  hospitals,  it  was 
ordered  that  St.  Bartholomew's,  should  henceforth 


be  united  to  the  rest  of  the  hospitals,  and  be  made 
one  body  with  them,  and  on  the  following  day 
ordinances  were  made  by  the  corfioration  for  the 
general  government  of  all  the  hospitals.  The  500 
marks  a  year  have  been  paid  by  the  corporation 
since  1546,  besides  the  profit  of  many  valuable 
leases." 

From  a  search  made  in  the  official  records  of 
the  City,  it  appears  that  for  more  than  300  years — 
namely,  since  1549 — an  alderman  of  London  had 
always  been  elected  president  of  St.  Bartholomew's 
Hospital.  Until  1854,  whenever  a  vacancy  oc- 
curred in  the  presidency  of  the  royal  hospitals  (St. 
Bartholomew's,  Bethlehem,  Bridewell,  St.  Thomas's, 
or  Christ's  Hospitals),  it  was  customary  to  elect 
the  Lord  Mayor  for  the  time  being,  or  an  alderman 
who  had  passed  the  chair.     This  rule  was  first 


360 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON 


est.  Bartholomew's  Hospital. 


broken  when  the  Duke  of  Cambridge  was  chosen 
president  of  Christ's  Hospital,  over  the  head  of 
Alderman  Sidney,  the  then  Lord  Mayor;  and 
again  when  Mr.  Cubitt,  then  no  longer  an  alder- 
man was  elected  president  of  St.  Bartholomew's  m 
preference  to  the  then  Lord  Mayor.     The  question 


physician  to  the  hospital  for  thirty-four  years,  and 
here,  in  1619  (James  I.),  he  first  lectured  upon  his 
great  discovery. 

The  executors  of  Whittington  had  repaired  the 
hospital,  in  1423  (Henry  VL),  but  it  had  to  be 
taken  down  in  i73o>  when  the  great  quadrangle 


INTERIOR  OF  ST.  BARTHOLOMEW-THE-GREAT. 


is,  however,  contested  by  the  foundation-governors, 
or  the  corporation,  and  the  donation-governors." 

The  first  superintendent  of  the  hospital  was 
Thomas  Vicary,  serjeant-surgeon  to  Henry  VIII., 
Edward  VI.,  Mary,  and  Elizabeth,  and  one  of  the 
earliest  EngUsh  writers  on  anatomy.     The  great 


was  rebuilt  by  Gibbs,  the  ambitious  architect  of  St 
Martin's-in-the-Fields,  and  the  first  stone  laid  June 
9th,  1730.  The  gate  towards  Smithfield,  a  mean 
structure  (with  the  statue  of  Henry  VIII.  ^"^  *^ 
inscription,  "  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital,  founded 
by  Rahere,  a.d.  1102  ;  re-founded  by  Henry  VIII., 


Harvey,  the  physician  of  Charies  I.,  and  the  first    1546."),   was   built   in  1702.      On  the  pedimen 
discoverer  of  the  circulation  of   the  blood,  was  [  of  the  hospital  are  two   figures— Lameness  an 


St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital.] 


ABERNETHY'S  "  MANNER." 


361' 


Sickness.  The  cost  of  the  work  in  1730  was  de- 
frayed by  public  subscription,  Dr.  Radcliffe  being 
generously  prominent  among  the  donors,  and 
leaving  ;^Soo  a  year  for  the  improvement  of  the 
general  diet,  and  ;^ioo  a  year  to  buy  linen. 

The  museums,  theatres,  and  library  of  this  noble 
charity  are  very  large.  A  new  surgery  was,  added 
in  1842.  The  lectures  of  the  present  day  were 
established  by  the  great  Abemethy,  who  was  elected 
assistant-surgeon  in  1787. 


with  the  patient's  yyishes,  but  complimented  him 
on  the  resolute  manner  he  adopted. 

Abernethy  made  but  little  distinction  between 
a  poor  and  a  rich  patient,  but  was  rather  more 
attentive  to  the  former ;  and,  on  one  occasion, 
gave  great  offence  to  a  certain  peer,  by  refusing  to 
see  him  out  of  his  turn.  On  entering  his  apart- 
ment, the  nobleman,  having  indignantly  asked 
Abemethy  if  he  knew  who  he  was,  stated  his  rank, 
name,  &c.,  when  Abemethy,  it  is  said,  replied,  with 


PIE  CORNER  IN  1789.     (From  a  Drawing  in  Mr.  Gardner's  Collection!) 


Sir  Asdey  Cooper  used  to  say,  "Abemeth/s 
manner  was  worth  a  thousand  a  year  to  him." 
Some  of  his  patients  he  would  cut  short  with,  "  Sir, 
I  have  heard  enough!  You  have  heard  of  my 
book?"  "Yes."  " Then  go  home  and  read  it." 
To  a  lady,  complaining  of  low  spirits,  he  would 
say,  "  Don't  come  to  me ;  go  and  buy  a  skipping- 
rope  ;"  and  to  another,  who  said  she  felt  a  pain 
m  holding  her  arm  over  her  head,  he  replied, 
"  Then  what  a  fool  you  must  be  to  hold  it  up !" 
He  sometimes,  however,  met  with  his  match,  and 
cutting  a  gentleman  short  one  day,  the  patient 
suddenly  locked  the  door,  slipped  the  key  into  his 
pocket,  and  protested  he  would  be  heard,  which 
so  pleased  Abernethy  that  he  not  only  complied 
79 -Vol.  II. 


the  most  provoking  sang  f raid,  "And  I,  sir,  am 
John  Abernethy,  surgeon,  lecturer  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew's Hospital,  &c. ;  and  if  you  wish  to 
consult  me,  I  am  now  ready  to  hear  what  you  have 
to  say  in  your  turn."  The  Duke  of  Wellington 
having  insisted  on  seeing  him  out  of  his  usual 
hours,  and  abruptly  entering  his  parlour  one  day, 
was  asked  by  the  doctor  how  he  got  into  the 
room.  "  By  the  door,"  was  the  reply.  "  Then," 
said  Abemethy,  "  I  recommend  you  to  make  your 
exit  by  the  same  way."  He  is  said  to  have  given 
another  proof  of  his  independence,  by  refusinjg 
to  attend  George  IV.  until  he  had  delivered  his 
lecture  at  the  hospital ;  in  consequence  of  which 
he  lost  a  Royal  appointment. 


362 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital. 


That  eminent  surgeon,  Percival  Pott,  was  also 
%  one  of  the  shining  lights  of  St.  Bartholomew's. 
The  following  is  the'  story  told  of  the  celebrated 
fracture,  which  he  afterwards  learned  to  alleviate, 
and  to  which  he  gave  his  name : — In  1756,  while  on 
a  visit  to  a  patient  in  Kent  Street,  Southwark,  he 
was  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  received  a  compound 
fracture  of  the  leg.  This  event  produced,  perhaps, 
one  of  the  most  extraor^dinary  instances  of  coolness 
and  prudence  on  record.  Aware  of  the  danger  of 
rough  and  injudicious  treatment,  he  would  not 
suffe^  himself  to  be  raised  from  the  pavement,  but 
sent  a  messenger  for  two  chairmen.  When  they 
•  anived,  he  directed  them  to  nail  their  poles  to  a 
door;  which  he  had  purchased  in  the  interim,  on 
which  he  was  then  carefully  placed,  and  borne  to 
his  residence  in  Watiing  Street,  near  St.  Paul's.  A 
consultation  was  immediately  called,  and  amputa- 
tion of  the  limb  was  resolved  pri;  but,  upon  the 
suggestion  of  a  humane  friend,  who  soon  after 
entered  the  room,  a  successful  attempt  to  save  the 
limb  was  made.  This  accident  confined  Mr.  Pott 
to  his  house  for  several  weeks,  during  which  he 
conceived,  and  partly  executed,  his  "Treatise  on 
Ruptures." 

In  1843  the  authorities  founded  a.  collegiate 
establishment  for  the  resident  pupils  within  the 
college  walls : '  a  spacious  casualty  room  has  also 
beeii  added'.  In  1736  the  grand  staircase  was 
painted  gratuitously  by  Hogarth,  whose  heart 
always  warmed  to  works  of  charity.  The  subjects 
are  "The  Good  Samaritan^'  and  "The  Pool  of 
Bethesda."  There  is  also  a  picture  of  Rayer 
laying  the  first  stone  of  the  hospital,  and  a  sick 
man  being  carried  on  a  bier  by  monks,  which  is  the 
work  of  some  other  hand.  Hogarth's  two  pictures 
for  which  he  was  made  life  governor,  was,  as  he 
tells  us  himself  in  his  autobiographical  sketch,  his 
first  efforts  in  the  grand  style. 

"  Before  I  had  done  anything  of  much  conse- 
quence in  this  walk  (i.e.,  the  painting  and  engraving 
of  modem  moral  subjects),"  says  the  sturdy  painter, 
"  I  entertained  some  hopes  of  succeeding  in  what 
the  puffers  in  books  call  '  the  great  style  of  history 
painting ; '  so  without  having  had  a  stroke  of  this 
grand  business  before,, I  quitted  small  portraits 
and  familiar  conversations,  and,  with  a  smile  at 
my  own  temerity,  commenced  history  painter,  and 
oil  a  great  staircase  at  St.  Bartholomew's  Hos- 
pital painted  two  Scripture  stories,  'the  Pool  of 
Bethesda,'  and  'the  Good  Samaritan,'  with  figures 
seven  feet  high." 

"This  hospital  receives,"  says  Mr.  Timts,  in  1868, 
"upon  petition,  cases  of  all  kinds,  f^ee  of  fees;  and 
accidents,  or  cases  of  urgent  disease,'' without  letter, 


at  the  surgery,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night. 
There  is  also  a  'Samaritan  Fund,'  for  relieving 
distressed  patients.  The  present  buildings  con- 
tain twenty-five  wards,  consisting  of  650  beds,  400 
being  for  surgical  cases,  and  250  for  medical  cases 
and  the  diseases  of  women.  Each  ward  is  pre- 
sided over  by  a  'sister'  and  nurse,  to  the  num- 
ber of  nearly  180  persons.  In  addition  to  a  very 
extensive  medical  staff,  there  are  four  resident 
surgeons  and  two  resident  apothecaries,  who  are 
always  on  duty,  day  and  night,  throughout  the  year, 
to  attend  to  whatever  may  be  brought  in  at  any 
hour  of  the  twenty-four.  It  further  possesses  a 
college  within  itself,  a  priceless  museum,  and  a 
first-class  medical  school,  conducted  by  thirty-six 
professors  and  assistants.  The  'View-day,'  for 
this  and  the  other  royal  hospitals  of  the  City,  is 
a  day  specially  set  apart  by  the  authorities  to 
examine,  in  their  official  collective  capacity,  every 
portion  of  the  estabHshment,  when  the  public  are 
admitted." 

■  "In  January,  1846,"  says  the  same  writer,  "the 
election  of  Prince  Albert  to  a  governorship  of  the 
hospital  was  commemorated  by  the  president  and 
treasurer  presenting  to  the  foundation  three  costly 
silver-gilt  dishes,  each  nearly  twentyrfour  inches  in 
diameter,- and  richly  chased  with  a  bold  relief  of— 
I.  The  election  of  the  Prince ;  2,  the  Good  Sama- 
ritan j  3,  the  Plague  of  London.  The  charity  is  ably 
managed  by  "the  corporation.  The  qualification  of 
a  governor  is  a  donation  of  one  hundred  guineas." 
In  the  court-room  is  one  of  the  many  supposed 
original  portraits  of  Henry  VIII.  by  the  copiers 
of  Holbein,  .who  is  venerated  here — and  in  Mr.  1 
Fronde's  study — if  nowhere  else. 

St.  Bartholomew's  contained  in  1872  676  beds. 
About  6,000  'in-patients  are  admitted  every  year, 
besides  ibi,ooo  out-patients.  The  average  income 
of  the  hospital  is  ;^40,ooo,  derived  chiefly  from 
rents  and  funded  property.  The  number  of 
governors  exceeds  300. 

Dr.  Anthony  ^skew,  one  of  the  past  celebrities 
of  St.  Bartholomew's,  a  contemporary  of  Freke, 
was  scarcely  more  famous  in  medicine  than  in 
letters.  The  friend  of  Dr.  Mead,  Hogarth,  and 
other  celebrities,  he  was  a  very  notable  personage 
in  Georgian  London,  and,  like  Pitcaime  and  Freke, 
was  a  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society.  He  employed 
Roubillac  to  produce  the  bust  of  Mead,  which  he 
presented  to  the  College  of,  Physicians,  the  price 
arranged  being  jQ^o.  In  his  delight  at  the  good- 
ness of  the  work.  Askew  sent  the  artist  ;^ioo  in- 
stead of  j^5o,  whereupon.  Roubillac  grumbled  that 
he  was  not  paid  enough,  and  sent  in  a  bill  to  his 
employer  for  ;^io8  2s.      Askew  contemptuously 


Sl  Bartholomew's  Hospital.] 


DUCK  LANE  AN©  PIE  CORNER, 


363 


paid  the  bill,  even  to  the  odd  shillings,  and  sent 
the  receipt  to  Hogarth.  Dr.  Pate,  a  physician 
of  St.  Bartholomew's  of  the  same  period,  lived  in 
Hatton  Garden,  which,  like  Ely  Place,  was  long  a 
great  place  for  doctors.  Dr.  Pitcaime,  his  colleague, 
hved  in  Warwick  Court,  till  he  moved  into  the 
treasurer's  house,  in  St.  Bartholomew's.  He  was 
buried  in  the  hospital  church.  The  posthumous 
sale  of  Dr.  Askew's  printed  library,  in  1775,  by 
Baker  and  Leigh,  and  which  lasted  twenty  days, 
was  the  great  literary  auction  of  the  time.  There 
was  a  subsequent  sale  of  the  MSS.  in  1789,  which 
also  produced  a  great  sum. 

Among  the  modem  physicians  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's we  must  notice  Dr.  Baly  (Queen's  physician, 
killed  in  a  fearful  railway  accident)  and  Dr. 
Jeaifreson,  notable  chiefly  for  his  pleasant  manners, 
his  skill  in  whist,  billiards,  and  shooting,  and  his 
extraordinary  popularity.  Wonderfully  successful  in 
practice,  he  was  everybody's  favourite ;  but,  though 
a  most  enlightened  man,  he  di4  nothing  for 
science,  either  through  literature  or  investigation. 

Among  the  modem  surgeons  to  be  noticed  are 
Sir  William  Lawrence,  Bart. ;  Mr.  Skey,  C.B.,  who 
was  famous  for  recommending  stimulants  and  de- 
nouncing boat-racing,  and  other  too  violent  sports ; 
and  Thomas  Wormald,  who  died  lately.  Skey 
and  Wormald  were  favourite  pupils  of  Abemethy, 
and  imitators  of  their  great  master's  jocular  man- 
ner and  pimgent  speech.  Tommy  Wormald,  or 
"Old  Tommy,"  as  the  students  called  him,  was 
Abemethy  over  again  in  voice,  style,  appearance, 
humour.  "  Done  for,"  was  one  of  his  pithy  written 
reports  on  a  "bad  life"  to  an  insurance  company, 
whose  directors  insisted  that  he  should  write  his 
reports  instead  of  giving  them  verbally.  He  once 
astounded  an  apothecary,  who  was  about  to  put 
him  and  certain  physicians  off  with  a  single  guinea 
fee,  at  a  consultation  on  a  rich  man's  case,  by 
saying,  "  A  guinea  is  a  lean  fee,  and  the  patient  is 
a  fat  patient.  I  always  have  fat  fees  from  fat 
patients.  Pay  me  two  guineas,  sir,  instantly.  Pay 
Dr.  Jeafireson  two  guineas,  instantly,  sir.  Sir,  pay 
both  the  physicians  and  me  two  guineas  each, 
instantly.  Our  patient  is  a  fat  patient."  Some 
years  since,  rich  people  of  a  mean  sort  would  drive 
down  to  St.  Bartholomew's,  and  get  gratuitous 
advice,  as  out-patients.  Tommy  was  determined 
to  stop  this  abuse,  and  he  did  it  by  a  series  of  out- 
rageous assaults  on  the  self-love  of  the  offenders. 
Noticing  a  lady,  dressed  in  silk,  who  had  driven  up 
to  the  hospital  in  a  brougham.  Tommy  raised  his 
rich,  thunderous,  sarcastic  voice,  and,  to  the  in- 
expressible glee  of  a  roomful  of  young  students, 
addressed  the  lady  thus: — "  Madam,  this  charity  is 


for  the  poor,  destitute,  miserable  invalids  of  Lon- 
don. So  you  are  a  miserable  invalid  in  a  silk  dress 
— a  destitute  invalid,  in  a  rich  silk  dress — a  poor 
invalid,  ui  a  dress  that  a  duchess  might  wear. 
Madam,  I  refuse  to  pay  attention  to  miserable, 
destitute  invalids,  who  wear  rich  silk  dresses.  You 
had  better  order  your  carriage,  madam."  The  lady 
did  not  come  again. 

A  few  remaining  spots  round  Smithfield  still 
remain  for  us  to  notice,  and  foremost  among  these 
is  Cloth  Fair,  the  great  resort  in  the.  Middle  Ages 
of  country  clothiers  and  London  drapers.  Strype 
describes  the  street  as  even  in  his  day  chiefly 
inhabited  by  drapers  and  mercers;  and  Hatton 
mentions  it  as  in  the  form  of  a  T,  the  right  arm 
mnning  to  Bartholomew  Close,  the  left  to  Long 
Lane. 

This  latter  lane,  originally  on  the  north  side 
of  the  old  priory,  reaches  from  Smithfield  to  Alders- 
gate  Street,  and  in  Strype's  time  was  known  for 
its  brokers,  its  second-hand  linen,  its  upholstery, 
and  its  pawnbrokers.  Congreve,  always  witty, 
makes  Lady  Wishfort,  in  his  Way  of  the  World, 
hope  that  one  of  her  admirers  will  one  day  hang  in 
tatters,  like  a  Long  Lane  pent-house  or  a  gibbeted 
thief;  and  good-natured  Tom  Brown,  declares  that 
when  the  impudent  rag-sellers  in  Barbican  and 
Long  Lane  suddenly  caught  him  by  'the  arm  and 
cried,  "What  do  you  lack?"  he  who  feared  the 
sight  of  a  bailiff  worse  than  the  devil  and  all  his 
works,  was  mortally  scared. 

In  Duck  Lane  we  part  good  friends  with 
Smithfield.  R.  B.,  in  Stiype,  describes  it  as  coming 
out  of  Littie  Britain  and  falling  into  Smithfield, 
and  much  inhabited  by  second-hand  booksellers. 
Howell,  in  his  "Letters,"  mentions  finding  the 
Poet-Laureate  Skelton,  "  pitifully  tattered  and  torn," 
skulking  in  Duck  Lane ;  and  Garth,  in  his  pleasant 
and  graphic  poem,  says — 

"  Here  dregs  and  sediment  of' auctions  reign, 
Refuse  of  fairs,  and  gleanings  of  Duck  Lane." 
And  Swift,  in  one  of  the  best  of  his  short  poems 
(that  on  his  own  death),  writes — 

"  Some  country  squire  to  Lintot  goes, 

Inquires  for  Swift,  in  verse  and  prose. 

Says  Lintot,  '  I  have  heard  the  name ; 

He  died  a  year  ago.'     '  The  same  ! ' 

He  searches  all  the  shop  in  vain  ; 

'  Sir,  you  may  fiHd  him  in  Duck  Lane  : 

I  sent  them  Vfith  a  load  of  books, 

Last  Monday,  to  the  pastrycook's." 
At  the  Giltspur  Street  end  of  the  market  stands 
Pie  Comer,  worthy  of  note  as  the  spot  where  the 
Great  Fire,  which  began  in  Pudding  Lane,  reached 
its  limits  :  the  figure  of  a  fat  boy  still  marks  the 
spot. 


3^4 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


rChrist's  Hospital. 


CHAPTER  XLVL 
CHRIST'S    HOSPITAL. 

'ibe  Grey  i'riars  ill  Newgate  Stfeet— The  Origin  of  Christ's  Hospital— A  Fashionable  Burying-Plape— The  Mean  Conduct  of  Sir  Martin  Bowes- 
Early  Private  Benefactors  of  Christ's  Hospital— Feundation  of  the  Mathematical  School— Rebuilding  of  the  South  Front  of  Christ's 
Hospital— The  Plan  of  Christ's  Hospital— Famous  Pictures  in  the  Hall— Celebrated  Blues — Leigh  Hunt's  Account  of  Christ's  Hospital— 
The  "  Fazzer  " — Charles  Lamb — Boyer,  the  Celebrated  Master  of  Christ's  Hospital — Coleridge's  '  Experiences — Erasmus— Singular 
Legacies — Numbers  in  the  School — ^The  Education  at  Christ's  Hospital — Eminent  Blues — The  Public  Suppers — Spital  Sermons— Ceremony 
on  St.  IVIatthew's  Day — ^University  Exhibitions — The  Diet — *'  Gag-eaters  " — The  Rebuilding  in  1803. 


Lives  there  a  Londoner  who  has  not,  at  some  stray- 
hour  or  other,  leant  against  the  tall  iron  gates  in 
Newgate  Street,  and  felt  his  golden  youth  return, 
as  he  watched  the  gambols  of  the  little  bareheaded 
men  in  blue  petticoats  and  yellow  stockings  ?  Can 
any  man  of  thought,  however  hurried  Citywards,  but 
stop  a  moment  to  watch  and  see  the  "scrouge," 
the  mad  rush  after  the  football,  -the  dashing  race  to 
rescue  prisoners  at  the  bases  ?  Summer  or  winter, 
the  yellow-legged  boys  form  a  pleasant  picture  of 
perpetual  youth ;  nor  can  one  ever  pass  a  strapping 
young  Grecian  in  the  streets  without  feeling  some 
veneration  for  the  successor  of  Coleridge  and 
Charles  Lamb,  Hazlitt  and  Leigh  Hunt. 

Where  the  fine  old  school  now  stands  was  the 
site  of  a  convent  of  Grey  (or  Mendicant)  Friars, 
who,  coming  to  London  in  the  thirteenth  century, 
after  a  short  stay  in  Holborn  and  Cornhill,  were,  in 
1225,  housed  on  the  north  side  of  Newgate  Street, 
on  a  good  plot  of  ground  next  St.  Nicholas  Sham- 
bles, by  John  Ewin,  a  pious  and  generous  mercer, 
who  eventually  became  a  lay  brother.  The  friars 
of  St.  Francis,  dided  by  manlike  Ewin,  throve  well 
on  the  scraps  of  Holborn  and  Cheapside,  and  their 
chapel  soon  grew  into  a  small  church,  which  was 
rebuilt  in  1327  with  great  splendour.  The  Grey 
Friars'  church,  says  Pennant,  was  reckoned  "one  of 
the  most  superb  of  the  conventual  establishments  of 
London,"  and  alms  poured  fast  into  its  treasury.  It 
received  royal  offerings  and  sheltered  royal  dead. 
In  1429  the  immortal  Whittington  built  the  studious 
friars  of  Newgate  Street  a  library,  129  feet  long  and 
31  broad,  with  twenty-eight  desks,  and  eight  double 
settles.  In  three  years  it  was  filled  with  books, 
costing  .;^SS6  105.,  whereof  Richard  Whittington 
gave  ^400,  and  Dr.  Thomas  Winchilsey,  one  of 
the  fri9,rs,  the  rest,  adding  an  especial  100  marks 
fer  the  writing  out  the'  works  of  D.  Nicholas  de 
Lyra,  in  two  volumes,  to  be  chained  there.  Among 
the  royal  contributors  to  the  Grey  Friars  we  may 
mention  Quee!i  Margaret,  second  wife  of  Edward  L, 
who  gave  in  her  lifetime '  2,000  marks,  and  by  will 
100  marks,  towards  building  a  choir;  John  Britaine, 
Earl  of  Richmoild,  gave  ^^300  towards  the  church 
building,  besides  jewels  ^nd  ornaments.;  Mary, 
Countess  of  Pembroke,  sent  ;^7o,  and  Gilbert  de 


Clare,  Earl  of  Gloucester,  twenty  great  oak  beams 
from  his  forest  at  Tunbridge  and  ;^2o,;  the  good 
Queen  Philippa,  wife  of  Edward  HI.,  _;^62 ;  and 
Isabel,  queen-mother  of  Edward  III.,  ^^70. 

The  founder  of  the  school  is  by  most  people  sup- 
posed to  have  been  Edward  VI.,  but  it  was  really 
his  father,  Henry  VIIL,  and  it  was  one  of  the  few 
works  of  mercy  which  originated  in  that  cruel 
tyrant.  At  the  dissolution,  when  sacramental  cups 
and  ci^cifixes  were  being  melted  down  by  the 
thousand,  to  maintain  a  bad  king  in  his  sumptuous 
splendour,  the  Enghsh  Sultan,  in  one  of  his  few 
good  moments,  near  the  end  of  his  reign,  gave  the 
Grey  Friars'  church  to  the  City,  to  be  devoted  to 
the  relief  of  the  poor.  The  building  had  previously, 
been  used  as  a  storehouse  for  plunder  taken  from 
the  French.  The  gift,  confirmed  by  the  ^  pious 
young  king,  Edward  VI.,  was  announced  by  Dr. 
Ridley,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  at  a  public  sermon 
at  Paul's  Cross.  The  parishes  of  St.  Ewin,  St. 
Nicholas,  and  part  0/  St.  Sepulchre's  were  at  this 
time  compressed  into  one  large  parish,  and  called 
Christ  Church. 

The  good  work  remained  in  abeyance,  till,  in 
1552,  the  worthy  Ridley,  preaching  before  the 
young  king,  his  subject  being  "mercy  and  charity," 
made,  says  Stow,  "  a  fruitful  aijd  godly  exhortation" 
to  the  rich  to  be  merciful  to  the  poor,  and  also 
to  move  those  who  were  in  authority  to  strive,  by 
charitable  ways  and  means,  to  comfort  and  reheve 
them.  The  young  king,  always  eager  to  do  good, 
hearing  that  London  swarmed  with  impoverished 
and  neglected  people,  at  once  sent  for  the  bishop 
to  come  to  him  after  sermon.  The  memorable  in- 
terview between  Ridley  and  Edward  took  place 
in  a'  great  gallery  at  Westminster,  where  the  king 
and  bishop  were  alone.  A  chair  had  been  already 
provided  for  the  bishop,  and  the  king  insisted  on 
the  worthy  prelate  remaining  covered.  Edward  first 
gave  the  bishop  hearty  thanks  for  his  good  sermon 
and  exhortation,  and  mentioned  the  special  points 
which  he  had  noted.  "'Truely,  truely,'  remarks 
Ridley  (for  that  commonly  was  his  oath),  '  I  could 
never  have  thought  that  excellency  to  have  been 
in  his  Grace,  but  that  I  beheld  and  heard  it  in 
him.'    At  the  last  the  king's  majestic  much  com- 


Christ's  Hospital,  j 


A    FASHIONABLE '  GRAVEYARD. 


36s 


mended  him  for  his  exhorta,tion  for  the  reliefe  of 
the  poore.  '  For,  my  lord,'  quoth  he,  '  you  willed 
such  as  are  in  authority  to  bee  careful  thereof,  and 
to  devise  some  good  order  for  theire  reliefe,  wherein 
I  think  you  mean  mee ;  for  I  am  in  highest  place, 
and  therefore  am  the  first  that  must  make  answer 
unto  God  for  ray  negligence,  if  I  should  not  be 
careful  therein,  knowing  it  to  bee  the  expresse 
commandment  of  Almighty  God  to  have  com- 
passion of  his  poore  and  needy  members,  for 
whom  we  must  pake  an  account  unto  him.  And 
tmely,  my  lord,  I  am  (before  all  things  else) 
most  calling  to  travaile  that  way,  and  doubting 
nothing  of  your  long  and  approved  wisdome  and 
learning,  who  have  such  good  zeale  as  wisheth 
health  unto  themj  but  also  that  you  have  had 
some  conference  with  others  what  waies  are  best 
to  be  taken  therein,  the  which',!  am  desirous 
to  understand;  I  pray  you  therefore  to  say  your 
minde.' " 

The  bishop,  -amazed  to  hear  the  wisdom  and 
earnest  zeal  of  the  child-king,  confessed  that  he 
was  so  astonished  that  he  hardly  knew  what  to 
reply ;  but  after  a  pause,  he  urged  the  special  claims 
of  the  poor  of  London,  where  the  citizens  were 
wise,  and,  he  doubted  not,  pitiful  and  merciful,  and 
would  carry  out  the  work.  The  king,  not  releasing 
Ridley  till  his  letter  to  the  mayor  was  written, 
signed,  and  sealed,  sent  his  express  commandment 
to  the  mayor  that  he  should  inform  hiip  how  far 
he  had  proceeded.  Ridley,  overjoyed  at  such 
youthful  zeal,  went  that  night  to  Sir  Richard  Dobbes, 
the  Lord  Mayor,  and  delivered  the  king's  letter 
and  message.  The  mayor,  honoured  and  pleased, 
invited  the  bishop  to  dine  the  next  day  with  two 
aldermen  and  six  commoners,  to  discuss  the 
charitable  enterprise.  On  the  mayor's  report  to 
the  king,  Edward  expressed  his  willingness  to  grant 
a  charter  to  the  new  governors,  and  to  bf  pro- 
claimed as  founder  and  patron  of  the  new  hospital. 
He  also  confirmed  his  father's  grant  of  the  old 
Grey  Friars'  monastery,  and  ^endowed  it  (to  bring 
the  charity  at  once  intd  working  order)  with  lands 
and  tenements  that  had  belonged  to  the  Savoy,  of 
the  yearly  value  of  about  ^^450.  He  also  consented 
to  the  City's  petition  that  they  might  take,  in  mort- 
mairi  or  otherwise,  without  licence,  lands  to  the 

yearly  value  of  .      Edward  filled   up  the 

blank  with  the  words  "4,000  marks,"  and  then, 
before  his  whole  council,  exclaimed,  with  his  usual 
pious  fervour,  "Lord,  I  yield  Thee  most  hearty 
thanks  that  Thou  hast  given  me  life  thus  long,  to 
finish  this  work  to  the  glory  of  Thy  name." 

Edward,  says  the  Rev.  W.  Trollope,  the  historian 
of  Christ's  Hospital,  lived  abput  a  month  after 


signing  the"  Charter  of  Incorporation  of  the  Royal 
Hospitals.  The',  citizens,  roused  by  the  king's 
fervour,  and  touched  by  his  untimely  death,  set  to 
work  with  gold  and  steel,  and  in  six  months  the  old 
Grey  Friars'  monastery  was  patched  up  sufficiently 
to  accommodate  340  boys,  a  number  increased  to 
380  by  the  end  of  the  year. 

As  the  Grey  Friars'  churchyard  wa,s  thought,  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  to  be  peculiarly  free  from  incubi 
and  flying  demons  of  all  sorts,  it  soon  became  a 
fashionable  burying-place,  and  almost  as  popular 
as  the  great  abbey  even  with  royalty.  Four  queens 
lie  there,  among  countless  lords  and  ladies,  brave 
knights,  and  godly  monks — Margarfet,  second  wife 
of  Edward  I.,  and  Isabella,  the  infamous  wife  and 
part  murderess  of  Edward  II.,  both,  as  we  have 
before  mentioned,  benefactors  to  the  hospital; 
Joan,  daughter  of  Edward  II.  and  wife  of  David 
"Bruce,  King  of  .Scotland;  and,  lastly,  Isabella,  wife 
of  William,  Baron  Fitzwarren,  titular  Queen  of  Man. 
The  English  Queen  Isabella,  as  if  to  propagate  an 
eternal  lie,  was  buried  with  the  heart  of  her  mur- 
jdered  husband  on  her  breast.  Her  ghost,  accord- 
ing to  all  true  "  Blues,"  still  haunts  the  cloisters. 

Here,  also,  rest  other  knights  and  ladies,  almost 
equally  illustrious  by  birth;  among  others,  Isabella, 
daughter  of  Edward  III.  and  wife  of  Ingelratti  de 
Courcy,  Earl  of  Bedford;  John  Hastings,  the  young 
Earl  of  Pembroke,  slain  by  accident  at  a  Christmas 
tournament  in  Woodstock  Park,  1389;  John,  Duke 
of  Bourbon,  one  of  the  noble  French  prisoners 
taken  at  Agincourt,  who  had  been  a  prisoner  in 
the  Tower  eighteen  years ;  Walter  Blunt,  Lord 
Mountjoy,  Lord  Treasurer  to  Edward  IV.,  and  the 
".gentle  Mortimer,"  the  wretched  paramour  of 
Queen  Isabella,  who  was  hung  at  Tyburn,  and 
left  two  days  withering  on  the  gallows.  Lastly, 
those  two  rapacious  favourites  of  Richard  II.,  Sir 
Robert  Tresilian,  Chief  Justice  of  England,  and  Sir 
Nicholas  Brembre,  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  both 
hung  at  Tyburn.  Tradition  goes  that  they  could 
not  hang  Tresilian  till  they  had  removed  from 
his  person  certain  magic  images  and  the  head  of 
a  devil. 

.  The  friars'  churchyard  seems  also  to  have  been 
fashionable  with  state  criminals  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  for  here  also  lies  Sir  John  Mortimer,  an 
unhappy  Yorkist,  hung,  drawn,  and  quartered  at 
Tyburn  by  the  Lancastrian  party  in  1423  (the 
second  year  of  the  reign  of  the  child-king,  Henry 
VI.)  To  the  same  bourne  also  came  a  victim  of 
Yorkist  cruelty,  Thomas  Burdet,  for  speaking  a  few 
angry  words  about  a  favourite  white  buck  which 
Edward  IV.  had  carelessly  killed.  A  murderess,  too, 
lies  here,  a  lady  named  Alice  Hungerford,  who, 


366 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Christ's  Hospital. 


for  murdering  her  husband  in  1523,  was  carted 
to  Tyburn,  and  there  hung.  All  these  ancient 
monuments  and  tombs  were  basely  and  stupidly 
sold,  in  1545,  by  Sir  Martin  Bowes,  Lord  Mayor, 
for  a  poor  fifty  pounds.  The  Great  Fire  of  1666 
destroyed  the  Grey  Friars'  church,  which  Wren 
shortly  afterwards  rebuilt,  a  little  further  to  the 
east;  and  in  the  old  church  perished  the  tomb  of 
the  beautiful  Lady  Venetia  Digby,  whom  Ben 
Jonson  celebrated,  ani  who,  it  was  absurdly  sup- 


of  boyish  happiness,  was  rebuilt  by  Sir  Christopher. 
In  1673,  Charles  II.,  at,  the  suggestion  of  our 
old  friend  Pepys,  Sir  Robert  Clayton,  and  Lord 
Treasurer  Clifford,  founded  a  mathematical  school 
for  the  instruction  of  forty  boys  in  navigation,  and 
appointed  Pepys  one  of  the  governors.  King 
Charles  endowed  the  school  with  ;£'i,ooo  for  seven 
years,  and  added  an  annuity  of  ^^370  out  of  the 
Exchequer,  for  the  educating  and  sending  to  sea 
ten  boys  annually,  five  of  whom  pass  an  examina- 


THE  WESTERN   QUADRANGLE  OF  OLD   CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL,  ABSUT    I780. 


posed,  perished  from  viper-broth,  administered  by 
her  husband  to  heighten  her  beauty. 

One  of  the  earliest  private  benefactors  of  this 
hospital  was  Sir  William  Chester,  Lord  Mayor  in 
1554,  who  built  the  walls  adjoining  to  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's Hospital ;  and  the  next  was  John  Calthrop, 
draper,  who,  at  his  own  expense,  arched  and 
vaulted  the  noisome  town  ditch,  from  Aldersgate 
to  Newgate.  Nor  must  we  forget  that  worthy 
though  humble  benefactor,  Castell,  the  shoemaker, 
from  his  early  habits  generally  known  as  "the 
Cock  of  Westminster,"  who  left  to  the  hospital 
;^44  a  year  from  his  hard-earned  store.  The 
greater  part  of  the  school  (except  the  venerable 
cloisters)  so  often  echoing  with  tiie  merry  shouts 


tion  before  the  Elder  Trinity  Brothers  every  six 
months.  These  boys  used  to  be  annually  presented 
by  the  president  to  the  king,  upon  New  Year's 
Day,  when  that  festival  was  observed  at  court,  and 
afterwards,  upon  the  queen's  birthday.  They  wear, 
says  Mr.  Trollope,  a  badge  upon  the  left  shoulder^ 
the  figures  upon  which  represent  Arithmetic,  with 
a  scroll  in  one  hand,  and  the  other  placed  upon 
a  boy's  head;  Geometry,  with  a  triangle 'in  her 
hand;  and  Astronomy,  with  a  quadrant  in  one 
hand  and  a  sphere  in  the  other.  Round  the  plate 
is  inscribed,  "  Auspicio  Caroli  secundi  Regis,  1673." 
The  dye  is  kept  in  the  Tower. 

Mr.  Stone,  a  governor,  to  supplement  the  king's 
grant,  left  a  legacy  for  the  maintenance  of  a  pre- 


Christ's  Hospital.] 


NOTABLE  BENEFACTORS  OF  CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL. 


367 


liminaiy  class  of  twelve  boys,  who  were  to  be  taught 
navigation.  The  "  Twelves  "  wear  a  badge  on  the 
right  shoulder,  the  king's  boys  wearing  theirs  on  the 
left.  Sir  Robert  Clayton,  after  a  severe  illness, 
in  1675,  built  the  south  front  of  the  hospital,  which 
had  been  in  ruins  since  the  Great  Fire,  and,  on 


Hertford  (where  all  the  younger  children  are  educa- 
ted), to  which  a  large  hall  was  added  in  1800.  In 
1694  Sir  John  Moore,  alderman,  built  a  writing- 
school.  The  good  work  went  on,  for,  in  1724, 
Samuel  Travers  gave  the  hospital  an  estate  for 
the  maintenance  of  forty  or  fifty  sons  of  lieutenants. 


THE  MATHEMATICAI-  SCHOOL,  CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL.     (From  a  View  published  by  N,  Smithy  1793.) 


the  death  of  his  partner,  Mr.  Morrice,  who  had 
offered  to  halve  the  expense.  Sir  Robert  secretly 
paid  the  whole  ;^s,ooo,  which  was  not  known  till 
the  Tories  had  deprived  him  of  the  mayoralty  and 
of  the  governorship  of  the  hospital. 

In  1680  Sir  John  Frederick,  the  president,  re- 
built the  great  hall,  which  the  Fire  had  injured,  at 
a  cost  of  more  than  ;^s,ooo;  and,  three  years 
after,  the  governors  erected  a  branch  building  at 


to  be  educated  for  the  navy.  Later,  John  Stock, 
Esq.,  left  ;£^3,ooo  to  the  school,  for  the  main- 
tenance of  four  boys,  children  of  naval  lieutenants, 
to  be  educated,  two  as  sailors  and  two  as  trades- 
men. In  1783  John  Smith,  Esq.,  left  money  to 
build  a  new  grammar-school,  and  several  masters' 
houses  were  afterwards  pulled  down,  and  a  good 
entrance  made  from  Little  Britain. 
This  re-disposition  of  the  ground  made  room 


368 


OLD   AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Christ's  Hospital, 


for  three  playgrounds — the  ditch,  the  garden,  and 
the  new  playground.  The  site  of  the  grammar- 
school  was  taken  from  the  south  side  of  the  ditch. 
The  following  used  to  be  a  sufficiently  accurate 
account  of  the  school  premises : — On  the  south 
side  of  the  entrance  from  Little  Britain  is  the 
treasurer's  house,  and  the  other  houses  in  this  play- 
ground are  occupied  by  the  matron,  masters,  and 
beadles.  Proceeding  in  an  easterly  direction  leads 
to  the  south-east  entrance  from  Butcher  Hall  Lane, 
Newgate  Street,  and  in  this  space  (which  is  called 
the  counting-house  yard)  stands  the  counting-house, 
and  several  other  houses,  which  are  inhabited  by 
the  clerks  and  some  of  the  masters.  The  treasurer 
has  also  a  back  entrance  to  his  house,  at  the  end 
of  the  counting-house,  and  his  garden  runs  at  the 
back  of  all  the  houses  on  the  east  side  of  this  yard. 
The  opposite  building  is  occupied  by  the  boys,  and 
in  a  niche  in  the  centre,  fronting  the  door  of  the 
counting-house,  is  a  Statue  of  King  Edward  (con- 
sidered the  most  perfect  one),  which  represents  his 
majesty,  who  stands  on  a  black  marble  slab,  in  the 
act  of  delivering  the  charter. 

The  mathematical  school  is  over  the  old  west 
entrance,  now  closed  up,  and  was  built  by  Wren, 
with  a  ward  for  the  foundation  boys  over  it.  A 
robed  statue  of  Charles  II.,  dated  1672,  stands 
over  the  gateway.  The  entrance  leads  to  the 
north-west  comer  of  the  cloisters,  which  form  the 
four  shady  sides  of  the  garden  playground,  and 
have  porticoes,  with  Gathic  arches  all  round.  The 
walls  are  supported  by  abutments  of  the  old  priory. 
Wren  repaired  the  cloisters,  which  are  useful  to 
the  young  blue  monks  for  play  and  promenade  in 
wet  weather. 

The  great  dining-hall  is  every  way  worthy  of  the 
grand  old  City  school.  It  was  erected  from 
designs  of  John  Shaw,  architect,  and  stands  partly 
on  the  foundations  of  the  ancient  refectory,  and 
partly  on  the  site  of  the  old  City  wall.  The  style 
is  pure  Gothic,  and  the  Southern  or  principal  front 
is  built  of  Portland  stone  with  cloisters  of  Heytor 
granite,  running  beneath  a  portion  of  the  dining- 
hall.  Nine  large  and  handsome  windows  occupy 
the  entire  front.  On  the  ground  storey  are  the 
governors'  room,  the  wardrobe,  the  buttery,  and 
other  offices;  and  the  basement  storey  contains, 
besides  cellars,  &c.,  a  spacious  kitchen,  69  feet 
long  by  33  feet  wide,  supported  by  massive  granite 
pillars.  The  hall  itself,  with  its  lobby  and  organ- 
gallery,  occupies  the  entire  upper  storey,  which  is 
187  feet  long,  51 J  feet  wide,  and  46 J  feet  high.  It 
was  at  one  time  (and  perhaps  still  is)  famous  for 
its  rats,  who,  attracted  by  the  crumbs  and  frag- 
ments of  food,  foraged  about  after  dark  in  hundreds, 


It  used  to  be  the  peculiar  pride  of  an  old  "Blue " 
to  catch  these  rats  with  his  hands  only,  traps 
being  considered  cowardly  aids  to  humanity  and 
unworthy  of  the  hospital.  The  old  dusty  picture- 
frames  are  favourite  terraces  for  these  vermin. 

The  two  famous  pictures  in  the  hall — neither  of 
them  of  much  real  merit,  but  valuable  for  their 
portraits — are  those  of  Edward  VI.  renewing  his 
father's  gift  of,  the  hospital,  and  of  St.  Thomas  and 
Bridewell,  to  the  City,  falsely  ascribed  to  Hol- 
bein, who  died  seven  or  eight  years  before  it  took 
place ;  and  "sprawling"  Verrio's  picture  of  James 
II.  receiving  an  audience  of  Christ's  Hospital  boys 
and  girls.  The  pseudo-Holbein  and  the  painting  by 
Verrio  are  both  well  described  by  Malcolm.  The 
so-called  Holbein  "adorns  the  west  wall,  and  is 
placed  near  the  entrance,  at  the  north  end  of  the 
hall.  The  king  is  seated  on  a  throne,  elevated  on 
two  steps,  with  two  very  clumsy  brackets  for  arms, 
on  which  are  fanciful  pilasters,  adorned  with  carving, 
and  an  arch ;  on  the  left  pilaster,  a  crowned  lion 
holding  a  shield,  with  'the  letter  '  E ' ;  a  dragon  on 
the  other  has  another  inscribed  '  R.'  Two  angels, 
reclining  on  the  arch,  support  the  arms  of  England. 
The  hall  of  audience  is  represented  as  paved  with 
black  and  white  marble ;  the  windows  are  angular, 
with  niches  between  each.  As  there  are  statues  in 
oifly  two  of  those,  it  seems  to  confirm  the  idea  that 
it  is  an  exact  resemblance  of  the  royal  apartment. 

"  The  artist  has  bestowed  his  whole  attention  on 
the  young  monarch,  whose  attitude  is  easy,  natural, 
and  dignified.  He  presents  the  deed  of  gift  with 
his  right  hand,  and  holds  the  sceptre  in  his  left. 
The  scarlet  robe  is  embroidered,  and  lined  with 
ermine,  and  the  folds  are  correctly  and  minutely 
finished.  An  unavoidable  circumstance  injures  the 
effect  of  this  picture,  which  is  the  diminutive 
stature  of  the  infant-king,  who  shrinks  into  a  dwarf, 
compared  with  his  full-grown  courtiers;  unfortu- 
nately, reversing  the  necessary  rule  of  giving  most 
dignity  and  consequence  to  the  principal  person  in 
the  piece. 

"  The. chancellor  holds  the  seals  over  his  crossed 
arms  at  the  king's  right  hand.  This  officer  and 
three  others  are  the  only  standing  figures.  Ridley 
kneels  at  the  foot  of  the  throne,  and  shows  his  face; 
in  profile  with  uplifted  hands.  On  the  right  are 
the  mayor  and  aldermen,  in  scarlet  robes,  kneeling. 
Much  cannot  be  said  in  praise  of  those  worthies. 
The  members  of  the  Common  Council,  &c.,  on  the 
other  side,  are  grouped  with  more  skill,  and  the 
action  is  more  varied.  The  heads  of  the  spectators 
are  generally  full  of  anxious  attention. 

"  But  five  of  twenty-eight  children  who  are  intro- 
duced in  the  foreground  turn  tow9,rds  the  king;  the 


Oirist's  Hospital.] 


CELEBRATED  "BLUES." 


369 


remainder  look  out  of  the  picture.  The  matron  on 
the  girls'  side  (if  a  portrait)  was  chosen  for  her 
mental  and  not  her  personal  qualifications.  Such 
are  the  merits  and  defects  of  this  celebrated  paint- 
ing, which,  though  infinitely  inferior  to  many  of 
Holbein's  Dutch  and  Italian  contemporaries,  is  a 
valuable,  and  in  many  respects  an  excellent,  his- 
toric composition. 

"  Verrio's  enormous  picture "  of  James  II.  and 
the  Bluecoat  children  "must  originally  have  been 
in  three  parts :  the  centre  on  the  end  wall,  and  the 
two  others  on  the  adjoining  sides.  Placed  thus, 
the  perspective  of  the  depths  of  the  arches  would 
have  been  right ;  as  it  is  at  present,  extended  on 
one  plane,  they  are  exactly  the  reverse.  The 
audience-chamber  is  of  the  Ionic  order,  with  twenty 
pilasters,  and  their  entablatures  and  arches.  The 
passage,  seen  through  those,  has  an  intersected 
arqhed  ceiling.  The  king  sits  in  the  centre  of  the 
painting,  on  a  throne  of  crimson  damask,  with  the 
royal  arms  embroidered  on  the  drapery  of  the 
canopy,  the  front  of  which  is  of  fringed  white  cloth 
of  gold.  The  footstool  is  of  purple  cloth  of  gold, 
and  the  steps  of  the  throne  are  covered  by  a  rich 
Turkey  carpet,  not  remarkably  well  painted.  The 
king  holds  a,  scroll  in  his  left  hand,  extends  the 
right,  and  seems  to  address  a  person  immediately 
before  him.  The  position  of  his  body  and  the 
fore-shortened  arm  are  excellent,  and  the  lace  and 
drapery  are  finely  drawn  and  coloured.  On  the 
sides  of  the  throne  are  two  circular  portraits. 

"  The  painter  has  committed  a  strange  error  in 
turning  the  king's  face  from  the  Lord  Mayor,  who 
points  in  vain  to  an  extended  map,  a  globe,  and 
all  the  kneeling  figures,  exulting  in  the  progress  of 
their  forty  boys  in  the  mathematics,  who  are  busily 
employed  in  producing  their  cases  and  definitions. 
Neither  in  such  an  attitude  could  the  king  observe 
fourteen  kneeling  girls,  though  their  faces  and  per- 
sons are  handsome  and  graceful,  and  the  matron 
and  her  assistant  seem  eager  to  place  them  in  the 
monarch's  view.  Verrio  has  stationed  himself  at 
the  extreme  end  of  the  picture,  and  his  expression 
appears  to  inquire  the  spectators'  opinion  of  his 
performance.  On  the  opposite  side  a  yeoman  of 
the  guard  clears  the  way  for  some  person,  and  a 
female  seems  alarmed  at  his  violence,  but  a  full- 
dressed  youth  before  him  looks  out  of  the  picture 
with  the  utmost  indifference.  There  is  one  ex- 
cellent head  which  speaks  earnestly  to  a  boy. 
Another  figure,  probably  the  master  or  steward, 
pulls  a  youth's  hair  with  marks  of  anger.  Several 
lords-in-waiting  are  correct  and  good  figures. 

"At  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  and  on  the 
same  west  wall,  is  a  large  whole-length  of  Charles  II. 


descending  from  his  throne,  a  curtain  from  which 
is  turned  round  a  pillar.  The  king  holds  his  robe 
with  his  right  hand,  and  points  with  the  left  to  a 
globe  and  mathematical  instruments. 

"Some  years  past" — the  date  of  Malcolm's 
writing  is  1803 — "an  addition  was  made  to  the 
hall,  by  taking  part  of  the  ward  over  the  south 
cloister  into  it.  In  this  are  several  portraits. 
Queen  Anne,  sitting,  habited  in  a  gown  of  cloth  of 
gold  with  a  blue  mantle  laced  with  gold  and  hned 
with  ermine.  Her  black  hair  is  curled,  and  without 
ornament;  the  arms  are  too  small,  but  the  neck 
and  drapery  are  good.  She  holds  the  orb  in  her 
left  hand,  rested  on  the  knee ;  the  right  crosses 
her  waist." 

"  Although  Christ's  Hospital  is,  and  has  been 
from  its  foundation,  in  the  main  a  commercial 
seminary,"  says  Mr.  Howard  Staunton,  "  the  list  of 
'  Blues'  who  have  acquired  celebrity  in  what  are 
called  the  '  liberal  professions '  would  confer  honour 
upon  a  school  of  much  loftier  pretensions.  Notably 
among  the  earliest  scholars  are  the  memorable 
Jesuit,  Edmund  Campion,  a  man  whose  unquestion- 
able piety  and  marvellous  ability  might  well  have 
saved  him  from  a  horrible  and  shameful  death ;  the 
great  antiquary,  WiUiam  Camden,  though  the  fact 
of  his  admission  is  not  satisfactorily  authenticated ; 
Bishop  Stillingfleet  (according  to  the  testimony 
of  Pepys) ;  David  Baker,  the  ecclesiastical  his- 
torian ;  John  Vicars,  a  religious  controversialist  of 
considerable  learning  and  indefatigable  energy,  but 
whose  fanaticism  and  intolerance  have  obtained 
him  an  unenviable  notoriety  from  the  pen  of  the 
author  of  'Hudibras;'  Joshua  Barnes,  the  Greek 
scholar;  John  Jurin,  another  scholar  of  great 
eminence,  and  who  was  elected  President  of  the 
College  of  Physicians;  Jeremiah  Markland,  a 
man  of  distinction,  both  as  scholar  and  critic;, 
Richardson,  the  celebrated  novelist;  Bishop  Mid- 
dleton,  of  Calcutta ;  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  and 
Robert  Allen. 

"  In  the  present  century  Christ's  Hospital  can 
boast  of  Thomas  Mitchell,  the  well-known  translator 
of  Aristophanes;  WiUiam  Henry  Neale,  Master 
of  Beverley  School ;  Leigh  Hunt,  Charles  Lamb, 
George  Dyer,  James  White,  James  Scholefield, 
Eegius  Professor  of  Greek  in  Cambridge;  the 
Rev.  George  Townsend;  and  Thomas  Barnes,  a 
late  editor  of  the  Times,  '  than  whom,'  Leigh  Hunt 
tells  us,  'no  man,  if  he  had  cared  for  it,  could 
have  been  more  certain  of  distinction.' 

"  In  the  cloisters,"  says  Leigh  Hunt,  "  a  number 
of  persons  lie  buried,  besides  the  officers  of  the 
house.  Among  them  is  Isabella,  wife  of  Edward  II., 
the  '  she-wolf  of  France.'    I  was  not  aware  of  this 


37° 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Chrises  Hospital, 


circumstance  then ;  but  many  a  time,  with  a  recol- 
lection of  some  lines  in  Blair's  '  Grave '  upon  me, 
have  I  run  as  hard  as  I  could,  at  night-time,  from 
my  ward  to  another,  in  order  to  borrow  the  next 
volume  of  some  ghostly  romance.  In  one  of  the 
cloisters  was  an  impression  resembling  a  gigantic 
foot,  which  was  attributed  by  some  to  the  angry 
stamping  of  the  ghost  of  a  beadle's  wife !" 

"Our  dress,"  says  the  same  pleasant  author, 
"  was  of  the  coarsest  and  quaintest  kind,  but  was 
respected  out  of  doors,  and  is  so.  It  consisted  of 
a  blue  drugget  gown,  or  body,  with  ample  skirts  to 
it ;  a  yellow  vest  underneath,  in  winter-time ;  small- 
clothes of  Russia  duck ;  worsted  yellow  stockings ; 
a  leathern  girdle ;  and  a  little  black  worsted  cap, 
usually  carried  in  the  hand.  I  believe  it  was  the 
ordinary  dress  of  children  in  humble  life,  during 
the  reign  of  the  Tudors.  We  used  to  flatter  our- 
selves that  it  was  taken  from  the  monks ;  and  there 
went  a  monstrous  tradition  that  at  one  period  it 
consisted  of  blue  velvet  with  silver  buttons.  It 
was  said,  also,  that  during  the  blissful  era  of  the 
blue  velvet  we  had  roast  mutton  for  supper,  but 
that  the  smallclothes  not  being  then  in  existence, 
and  the  mutton  suppers  too  luxurious,  the  eatables 
were  given  up  for  the  ineffables. 

"  Our  routine  of  life  was  this :  We  rose  to  the 
call  of  a  bell  at  six' in  summer  and  seven  in 
winter ;  and  after  combing  ourselves  and  washing 
our  hands  and  faces,  went  at  the  call  of  another 
bell  to  breakfast.  All' this  took  up  about  an  hour. 
From  breakfast  we  proceeded  to  school,  where  we 
remained  till  eleven,  winter  and  summer,  and  then 
had  an  hour's  play.  Dinner  took  place  at  twelve. 
Afterwards  was  a  little  play  till  one,  when  we  again 
went  to  school,  and  remained  till  five  in  summer 
and  four  in  winter.  At  six  was  the  supper.  We 
used  to  play  after  it  in  summer  till  eight:  in  winter 
we  proceeded  from  supper  to  bed.  On  Sundays, 
the  school-time  of  the  other  days  was  occupied  in 
church,  both  morning  and  evening;  and  as  the 
Bible  was  tead  to  us  every  day  before  every  meal 
and  on  going  to  bed,  besides  prayers  and  graces, 
we  rivalled  the  monks  in  the  religious  part  of  our 
duties.    .     .     . 

"  When  I  entered  the  school,"  says  Leigh  Hunt, 
speaking  of  the  Grecians,  "  I  was  shown  three 
gigantic  boys — young  men,  rather  (for  the  eldest 
was  between  seventeen  and  eighteen) — who,  I 
was  told,  were  going  to  the  university.  These 
were  the  Grecians.  They  were  the  three  head 
boys  of  the  grammar-school,  and  were  understood 
to  have  their  destiny  fixed  for  the  Church.  The 
next  class  to  these— like  a  college  of  cardinals 
to  those  three  popes  (for  every  Grecian  was  in  our 


eyes  infallible) — ^were  the  deputy-Grecians.  The 
former  were  supposed  to  have  completed  their 
Greek  studies,  and  were  deep  in  Sophocles  and 
Euripides.  The  latter  were  thought  equally  com- 
petent to  tell  you  anything  respecting  Homer  and 
Demosthenes." 

The  "fazzer,"  in  Leigh  Hunt's  time,  was  the 
mumbo-jumbo  of  the  hospital.  "The  fazzer," 
says  author,  "was  known  to  be  nothing  more 
than  one  of  the  boys  themselves.  In  fact,  he  con- 
sisted of  one  of  the  most  impudent  of  the  bigger 
ones ;  but  as  it  was  his  custom  to  disguise  his  face, 
and  as  this  aggravated  the  terror  which  made  the 
little  boys  hide  their  own  faces,  his  participation 
of  our  common  human  nature  only  increased  the 
supernatural  fearfulness  of  his  pretensions.  His 
office  as  fazzer  consisted  in  being  audacious,  un- 
known and  frightening  the  boys  at  night,  sometimes 
by  pulling  them  out  of  their  beds,  sometimes  by 
simply  fazzing  their  hair  ('  fazzing'  meant  pulling 
or  vexing,  like  a  goblin) ;  sometimes  (which  was 
horriblest  of  all)  by  quietly  giving  us  to  understand, 
in  some  way  or  other,  that  the  '  fazzer  was  out,' 
that  is  to  say,  out  of  his  own  bed,  and  then  being 
seen  (by  those  who  dared  to  look)  sitting,  or  other- 
wise making  his  appearance,  in  his  white  shirt, 
motionless  and  dumb." 

Charles  Lamb  talks  of  the  earlier  school  in  a 
different  vein,  and  with  more  poetry  and  depth  of 
feeling.  "  I  must,"  he  says,  "  crave  leave  to  re- 
member our  transcending  superiority  in  those  in- 
vigorating sports,  leapfrog  and  basting  the  bear; 
our  delightful  excursions  in  the  summer  holidays  to 
the  New  River,  near  Newington,  wherd,  like  otters, 
we  would  live  the  long  day  in  the  water,  never 
caring  for  dressing  ourselves  when  we  had  once 
stripped ;  our  savoury  meals  afterwards,  when  we 
came  home  almost  famished  with  staying  out  all 
day  without  our  dinners ;  our  visits,  at  other  times, 
to  the  Tower,  where,  by  ancient  privilege,  we  had 
free  access  to  all  the  curiosities ;  our  solemn  pro- 
cessions through  the  City  at  Easter,  with  the  Lord 
Mayor's  largess  of  buns,  wine,  and  a  shilling,  with 
the  festive  questions  and  civic  pleasantries  of  the 
dispensing  aldermen,  which  were  more  to  us  than 
all  the  rest  of  the  banquet ;  our  stately  suppings 
in  public,  when  the  well-lighted  hall,  and  the  con- 
fluence of  well-dressed  company  who  came  to  see 
us,  made  the  whole  look  more  like  a  concert  or 
assembly  than  a  scene  of  a  plain  bread  and  cheese 
collation ;  the  annual  orations  upon  St.  Matthew's 
Day,  in  which  the  senior  scholar,  before  he  had 
done,  seldom  failed  to  reckon  up  among  those  who 
had  done  honour  to  our  school,  by  being  educated 
in  it,  the  names  of  those  accomplished  critics  and 


Christ's  Hospital.] 


CilARLES  LAMB  At  CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL, 


sn 


Greek  scholars,  Joshua  Barnes  and  Jeremiah  Mark- 
land  (I  marvel  they  left  out  Camden,  while  they 
were  about  it).  Let  me  have  leave  to  remember 
pur  hymns  and  anthems,  and  well-toned  organ ; 
the  doleful  tune  of  the  burial  anthem,  chanted  in 
the  solemn  cloisters  upon  the  seldoni-occurring 
funeral  of  some  schoolfellow ;  the  festivities  at 
Christmas,  when  the  richest  of  us  would  club  our 
stock  to  have  a  gaudy-day,  sitting  round  the  fire, 
replenished  to  the  height  with  logs,  and  the  penni- 
less and  he  that  could  contribute  nothing  partook 
in  all  the  mirth  and  some  of  the  substantialities  of 
the  feasting  ;  the  carol  sung  by  night  at  that  time 
of  the  year,  which,  when  a  young  boy,  I  have  so 
often  lain  awake  to  hear,  from  seven  (the  hour  of 
going  to  bed)  till  ten,  when  it  was  sung  by  the 
older  boys  and  monitors,  and  have  listened  to  it  in 
their  rude  chanting,  till  I  have  been  transported  in 
fancy  to  the  fields  of  Bethlehem,  and  the  song 
which  was  sung  at  that  season  by  angels'  voices 
to  the  shepherds. 

"Nor  would  I  willingly  forget  any  of  those 
things  which  administered  to  our  vanity.  The 
hem-stitched  bands  and  town-made  shirts,  which 
some  of  the  most  fashionable  among  us  wore ; 
the  town  girdles,  with  buckles  of  silver  or  shining 
stone ;  the  badges  of  the  sea-boys ;  the  cots,  or 
superior  shoe-strings,  of  the  monitors ;  the  medals 
of  the  markers  (those  who  were  appointed  to  hear 
the  Bible  read  in  the  wards  on  Sunday  morning 
and  evening),  which  bore  on  their  obverse,  in 
silver,  as  certain  parts  of  our  garments  carried, 
in  meaner  metal,  the  countenance  of  our  founder, 
that  godly  and  royal  child,  King  Edward  the  Sixth, 
the  flower  of  the  Tudor  name — the  young  flower 
that  was  untimely  cropt,  as  it  began  to  fill  our  land 
with  its  early  odours — the  boy-patron  of  boys — ^the 
serious  and  holy  child,  who  walked  with  Cranmer 
and  Ridley,  fit  associate,  in  those  tender  years,  for 
the  bishops  and  future  martyrs  of  our  Church,  to 
receive  or  (as  occasion  sometimes  proved)  to  give 
instruction : — 

'  But,  ah  !  what  means  the  silent  tear? 
Why,  e'en  mid  joy,  my  bosom  heave  ? 
Ve  long-lost  scenes,  enchantments  dear  ! 
Lo  !  now  I  linger  o'er  your  grave. 

'  Fly,  then,  ye  hours  of  rosy  hue, 

And  bear  away  the  bloom  of  years  I 
And  quick  succeed,  ye  sickly  crew 

Of  doubts  and  sorrows,  pains  and  fears  1 
Still  will  I  ponder  Fate's  unalter'4  plan, 
Nor,  tracing  back  the  diild,  forget  that  I  am  man.'  " 

Of  the  hospital  good  Lamb  says  : — "  I  remember 

L at  school,  and.  can  well  recollect  that  he 

had  some  peculiar  advantages  which  I  and  others 
of  his  schoolfellows  had  not.    His  friends  lived  in 


town,  and  were  near  at  handj  and  he  had  the 
privilege  of  going  to  see  them,  almost  as  often 
as  he  wished,  through  some  invidious  distinction, 
which  was  denied  to  us.  The  present  worthy  sub^ 
treasurer  to  the  Inner  Temple  can  explain  how  that 
happened.  He  had  his  tea  and  hot  rolls  in  a 
morning,  while  we  were  battening  upon  our  quarter 
of  a  penny  loaf — our  'crag' — moistened  with 
attenuated  small  beer,  in  wooden  piggins,  smack- 
ing of  the  pitched  leathern  jack  it  was  poured 
from.  Our  Monday's  milk  porridge,  blue  and  taste- 
less, and  the  pease-soup  of  Saturday,  coarse  and 
choking,  were  enriched  for  him  with  a  sUce  of 
'  extraordinary  bread  and  butter '  from  the  hot  loaf 
of  the  Temple.  The  Wednesday's  mess  of  millet, 
somewhat  less  repugnant — (we  had  three  banyan  to 
four  meat  days  in  the  week) — was  endeared  to  his 
palate  by  a  lump  of  double-refined,  and  a  smack 
of  ginger  (to  make  it  go  down  the  more  gUbly),  or 
the  fragrant  cinnamon.  In  lieu  of  our  half-pickled 
Sundays,  or  quite  fresh  boiled  beef  on  Thursdays 
(strong  as  caro  equina),  with  detestable  marigolds 
floating  in  the  pail,  to  poison  the  broth — our  scanty 
mutton  scrags  on  Fridays,  and  rather  more  savoury 
but  grudging  portions  of  the  same  flesh,  rotten 
roasted  or  rare,  on  the  Tuesdays .  (the  only  dish 
which  excited  our  appetites  and  disappointed  our 
stomachs  in  almost  equal  proportion) — he  had  his 
hot  plate  of  roast  veal,  or  the  more  tempting 
griskin  (exotics  unknown  to  our  palates),  cooked 
in  the  paternal  kitchen  (a  great  thing),  and  brought 
him  daily  by  his  maid  or  aunt !  I  remember  the 
good  old  relative  (in  whom  love  forbade  pride), 
squatted  down  upon  some  odd  stone  in  a  by-nook 
of  the  cloisters,  disclosing  the  viands  (of  higher 
regale  than  those  cates  which  the  ravens  ministered' 
to  the  Tishbite),  and  the  contending  passions  of 

L at  the  unfolding.     There  was  love  for  the 

bringer;  shame  for  the  thing  brought  and  the 
manner  of  its  bringing;  sympathy  for  those  who 
were  too  many  to  share  in  it,  and,  at  top  of  all, 
hunger  (eldest,  strongest  of  the  passions !)  pre- 
dominant, breaking  down  the  strong  fences  of 
shame,  and  awkwardness,  and  a  troubling  over- 
consciousness 

"  Under  the  stewardship  of  Perry,  can  L 

have  forgotten  the  cool  impunity  with  which  the 
nurses  used  fo  carry  away  openly,  in  open  platters, 
for  their  own  tables,  one  out  of  two  of  every  hot 
joint  which  the  careful  matron  had  been  seeing 
scrapulously  weighed  out  for  our  dinners  ?  .   .    .  i 

"  I  was  a  hypochondriac  lad ;  and  the  sight  of  a 
boy  in  fetters,  upon  the  day  of  my  first  putting  on 
the  blue  clothes,  was  not  exactly  fitted  to  assuage 
the  natural  terrors  of  initiation.    I  was  of  tender 


372 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


(Chnst's  Hospital, 


years,  barely  turned  of  seven,  and  had  only  read  of 
such  things  in  books,  or  seen  them  but  in  dreams. 
I  was  told  he  had  run  away.  This  was  the  punish- 
ment for  the  first  offence.  As  a  novice,  I  was 
soon  after  taken  to  see  the  dungeons.  These  were 
little  square  Bedlam  cells,  where  a  boy  could  just 
lie  at  his  length  upon  straw  and  a  blanket — a  mat- 
tress, I  think,  was  afterwards  substituted — with  a 
pe^  of  light,  let  in  askance,  from  a  prison  orifice 
at  top,  barely  enough  to  read  by.     Here  the  poor 


pated.  With  his  pale  and  frightened  features,  it 
was  as  if  some  of  those  disfigurements  in  Dante 
ha;d  seized  upon  him.  In  this  disguisement  he 
was  brought  into  the  hall  (L 's  favourite  state- 
room), where  awaited  him  the  whole  number  of  his 
schoolfellows,  whose  joint  lessons  and  sports  he 
was  henceforth  to  share  no  more;  the  awful  pre- 
sence of  the  steward,  to  be  seen  for  the  last  time ; 
of  the  executioner-beadle,  clad  in  his  state~robe 
for  the  occasion ;  and  of  two  faces  more,  of  direr 


THE  CLOISTERS,  CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL.     (From  a  View  published  in  1804.) 


boy  was  locked  in  by  himself  all  day,  without  sight 
of  any  but  the  porter,  who  brought  him  his  bread 
and  water,  who  might  not  speak  to  him,  or  of  the 
beadle,  who  came  twice  a  week  to  call  him  out  to 
receive  his  periodical  chastisement." 

"The  culprit  who  had  been  a  third  time  an 
offender,  and  whose  expulsion  was  at  this  time 
deemed  irreversible,  was  brought  forfli,  as  at  some 
solemn  auto  da  fe,  arrayed  in  uncouth  and  most 
appalling  attire,  and  all  trace  of  his  late  'watchet 
weeds '  being  carefully  effaced,  he  was  exposed  in  a 
jacket  resembling  those  which  London  lamp- 
lighters formerly  delighted  in,  with  a  cap  of  the 
same.  The  effect  of  this  divestiture  was  such 
as  the  ingenious  devisers  of  it  must  have  antici- 


import,  because  never  but  in  these  extremities 
visible.  These  were  governors,  two  of  whom,  by 
choice  or  charter,  were  always  accustomed  to 
officiate  at  these  ultima  supplicia — ^not  to  mitigate 
(so,  at  least,  we  understood  it),  but  to  enforce  the 
uttermost  stripe.  Old  Bamber  Gascoigne  and 
Peter  Aubert,  I  remember,  were  colleagues  on 
one  occasion,  when  the  beadle  turning  rather  pale, 
a  glass  of  brandy  was  ordered  to  prepare  him  foi 
the  mysteries.  The  scourging  was,  after  the  old 
Roman  fashion,  long  and  stately.  The  lictor 
accompanied  the  criminal  quite  round  the  hall. 
We  were  generally  too  faint  with  attending  to  the 
previous  disgusting  circumstances  to  make  accurate 
report  with  our  eyes   of  the  degree  of  corporal 


Christ's  Hospital.] 


JEREMY   BOYER:   HIS  WIGS  AND   HIS  TEMPER. 


373 


suffering  inflicted.  After  scourging  he  was  made 
over,  in  his  san  benito,  to  his  friends,  if  he  had  any, 
or  to  his  parish  officer,  who,  to  enhance  the  effect 
of  the  scene,  had  his  station  allotted  to  him  on  the 
outside  of  the  hall  gate." 

Of  Boyer,  the  celebrated  master  of  Clarist's 


hands  hung  out  of  the  sleeves,  with  tight  wrist- 
bands, as  if  ready  for  execution ;  and  as  he 
generally  wore  grey  worsted  stockings,  very  tight, 
with  a  little  balustrade  leg,  his  whole  appearance 
presented  something  formidably  succinct,  hard,  and 
mechanical.      In    fact,    his    weak    side,   and    un- 


SUPPER  AT   CHRIST'S   HOSPITAL. 


Hospital,  Leigh  Hunt  says  : — "  The  other  master, 
the  upper  one,  Boyer — famous  for  the -mention  of 
him  by  Coleridge  and  Lamb— was  a  short,  stout 
man,  inclining  to  punchiness,  with  large  face  and 
hands,  an  aquiline  nose,  long  upper  lip,  and  a 
sharp  mouth.  His  eye  was  close  and  cruel.  The 
spectacles  which  he  wore  threw  a  balm  over  it. 
Being  a  clergyman,  he  dressed  in  black,  with  a 
powdered  wig.  His  clothes  were  cut  short;  his 
80-V       " 


doubtedly  his  natural  destination,  lay  in  carpentry, 
and  he  accordingly  carried,  in  a  side-pocket  mfde 
on  purpose,  a  carpenter's  rule. 

"Jeremy  Boyer  had  two  wigs,  both  pedantic, 
but  of  different  omen — the  one,  serene,  smiling, 
fresh-powdered,  betokening  a  mild  day ;  the  other, 
an  old,  discoloured,  unkempt,  angry  caxon,  de- 
noting frequent  and  bloody  execution.  Woe  to 
the  school  when  he  made  his  morning  appearance 


374 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tChrist's  MospitaL 


in  his  passy,  or  passionate  wig.  No  comet  ex- 
pounded surer.  Jeremy  Boyer  had  a  heavy  hand. 
I  have  known  him  double  his  knotty  fist  ^at  a  poor 
trembhng  child  (the  maternal  milk  hardly  dry  upon 
its  lips),  with  a  '  Sirrah,  do  you  presume  to  set  your 
wits  at  me  ?'  Nothing  was  more  common  than  to 
see  him  make  a  headlong  entry  into  the  school- 
room, from  his  inner  recess  or  library,  and,  with 
turbulent  eye,  singling  out  a  lad,  roar  out,  '  Od's 
my  life,  sirrah  !' — his  favourite  adjuration, — 'I  have 
a  great  mind  to  whip  you ;'  then,  with  as  sudden  a 
retracting  impulse,  fling  back  into  his  lair,  and,  after 
a  cooling  lapse  of  some  minutes  (during  which  all 
but  the  culprit  had  totally  forgotten  the  context), 
drive  headlong  out  again,  piecing  put  his  imperfect 
sentence,  as  if  it  had  been  some  devil's  litany, 
with  the  expletory  yell,  ^  and  I  will,  too  P" 

Of  Coleridge  at  school  Charles  Lamb  says : — 
"  Come  back  into  memory,  like  as  thou  wert  in  the 
dayspring  of  thy  fancies,  with  hope,  like  a  fiery 
column,  before  thee  —  the  dark  pillar  not  yet 
turned — Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  logician,  meta- 
physician, bard !  How  have  I  seen  the  casual 
passer  through  the  cloisters  stand  still,  entranced 
with  admiration  (while  he^  weighed  the  dispropor- 
tion between  the  speech  and  the  garb  of  the  young 
Mirandula),  to  hear  thee  unfold,  in  thy  deep  and 
sweet  intonations,  the  mysteries  of  Jamblichus  or 
Plotinus  (for  even  in  those  years  thou  waxedest 
not  pale  at  such  philosophic  draughts),  or  reciting 
Homer  in  his  Greek,  or  Pindar,  while  the  walls  of 
tl^e  old  Grey  Friars  re*echoed  to  the  accents  of 
the  inspired  charity-boy  I  Many  were  the  'wit- 
combats  '  (to  dally  awhile '  with  the  words  of  old 
Fuller)  between  him  and  C.  V.  Le  Grice,  'which, 
too,  I  behold,  like  a  Spanish  great  galleon  and  an 
English  man-of-war.  Master,  Coleridge,  like  the 
former,  was  built  far  higher  in  learning,  solid,  but 
slow  in  his  performances.  C.  V.  L.,  with  the 
English  man-of-war,  lesser  in  bulk,  but  lighter  in 
sailing,  could  turn  with  all  tides,  tack  about,  and 
take  advantage  of  all  winds,  by  the  quickness  of 
his  wit  and  invention.' " 

"The  discipline  at  Christ's  Hospital,  in  my 
time,"  says  Coleridge,  in  his  "  Table -Talk,"  in 
1832,  "was  ultra-Spartan;  all  domestic  ties  were 
to  be  put  aside.  '  Boy  !'  I  remember  Boyer  saying 
to  me  once,  when  I  was  crying,  the  first  day  of  my 
return  after  the  holidays,  '  boy !  the  school  is  your 
father;  boy!  the  school  is  your  mother;  boy!  the 
school  is  your  brother;  the  school  is  your  sister; 
the  school  is  your  first  cousin,  and  your  second 
cousin,  and  all  the  rest  of  your  relations.  Let's 
have  no  more  crying !'  No  tongue  can  express 
good  Mrs.  Boyer.     Val  Le  Grice  and  I  were  once 


going  to  be  flogged  for  some  domestic  misdeed, 
and  Boyer  was  thundering  away  at  us  by  way  of 
prologue,  when  Mrs.  B.  looked  in,  and  said,  '  Flog 
them  soundly,  sir,  I  beg !'  This  saved  us.  Boyer 
was  so  nettled  at  the  interruption,  that  he  growled 
out,  '  Away  !  woman,  away  ! '  and  we  were  let  off." 

"  The  upper  grammar-school  was  divided  into  four 
classes,  or  forms.  The  two  under  ones  were  called 
Little  and  Great  Erasmus;  the  two  upper  were  occu- 
pied by  the  Grecians  and  Deputy-Grecians.  We 
used  to  think  the  title  of  Erasmus  taken  from  the 
great  scholar  of  that  name ;  but  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  a  portrait  among  us,  claiming  to  be  the 
likeness  of  a  certain  Erasmus  Smith,  Esq.,  shook  us 
terribly  in  this  opinion,  and  was  a  hard  trial  of  our 
gratitude.  We  scarcely  telished  this  perpetual 
cornpany  of  our  benefactbr,  watching  us,  as  he 
seemed  to  do,  with  his  omnipresent  eyes.  I  believe 
he  was  a  rich  merchant,  and  that  the  forms  of  Little 
and  Great  Erasmus  were  really  named  after  him- 
It  was  a  poor  consolation  to  think  that  he  himself, 
or  his  great  uncle,  might  have  been  named  after 
Erasmus.  Little  Erasmus  learned  Ovid;  Great 
Erasmus,  Virgil,  Terence,  and  the  Greek  Testa- 
ment. The  Deputy-Grecians  were  in  Homer,  Cicero, 
and  Demosthenes ;  the  Grecians  in  the  Greek  plays 
and  the  mathematics." 

"  I  have  spoken,"  says  Leigh  Hunt,  speaking  of 
Charles  Lamb,  "of  the  distinguished  individuals 
bred  at  Christ's  Hospital,  including  Coleridge  atid 
Lamb,  who  left  the  school  not  long  before  I  en- 
tered it.  Coleridge- 1  never  saw  till  he  was  old. 
Lamb  I  recollect  coming  to  see  the  boys,  with  a 
pensive,  brown,  handsome,  and  kindly  face,  and  a  gait 
advancing  with  a  motion  from  side  to  side,  between 
involuntary  consciousness  and  attempted  ease.  His 
brown  complexion  may  have  been  owing  to  a  visit 
in  the  country ;  his  air  of  uneasiness,  to  a  great 
burden  of  sorrow.  He  dressed  with  a  quaker-like 
plainness.  I  did  not  know  him  as  Lamb ;  I  took 
him  for  a  Mr.  'Guy,'  having  heard  somebody 
address  him  by  that  appellative,  I  suppose  in  jest." 

Soon  after  the  foundation  of  the  schools,  says  the 
latest  writei:  on  the  subject,  we  find  lands  and 
legacies  pouring  in  for  the  benefit  of  the  charity; 
many,  however,  of  the  gifts  being  for  the  blind  and 
aged,  for  exhibitions,  for  apprenticing,  and  for 
many  other  objects  not  strictly  attached  to  the  hos- 
pital, considered  merely  as  a  school.  In  the  same 
manner  many  persons  left  estates  and  moneys  to 
the  governors,  on  condition  that  a  certain  number 
of  scholars  should  b&  taken  from  the  ranks  of 
certain  City  companies,  or  from  certain  particular : 
parishes,  or  should  be  nominated  by  some  public 
body,  fixed  by  the  donor.    From  these  causes  the 


Christ's  Hospital.] 


EMINENT   "BLUES." 


375 


present  property  of  the  trust  is  encumbered  with 
many  charges  for  purposes  which,  in  the  present 
day,  are  unnecessary,  and  often  impracticable. 
Thus,  one  person  left  a  legacy  on  condition  that  a 
certain  number  of  boys  should  receive  pairs  of 
gloves,  on  which  should  be  printed,  "Christ  is  risen," 
and  these  were  to  be  worn  in  the  various  pro- 
cessions in  which  the  school  took  part  in  Easter 
week.  The  gloves  are  still  given,  but  instead  of 
being  printed  on  the  glove,  a  little  badge  is  worn, 
with  the  words  required  by  the  founder.  A  certain 
Mary  Hunt  gave  .;^ioo,  that  ^^3  yearly  should 
be  expended  for  a  dinner  of  boiled  legs  of  pork, 
while  several  other  persons  left  moneys  to  be  ex- 
pended on  roast  beef  and  mutton,  one  of  them 
expressly  stating  that  his  gift  was  to  be  in  addition 
to  the  ordinary  meat  provided  for  the  scholars.  If 
Charles  Lamb  is  to  be  believed — and  he  himself 
was  a  "Blue" — the  gifts  of  extra  meat  were,  at  that 
date,  very  much  needed ;  and  we  are  also  told  that 
in  addition -to  the  quantity  being  small,  the  quality 
also  was  then  far  from  good.  No  such  complaints 
can  be  made  in  the  present  day.  Many  of  the 
contributions  given  for  the  hospital  were  very  large, 
that  of  Lady  Mary  Ramsey,  wife  of  a  Lord  Mayor 
of  London,  being  now  worth  over  ;^4,ooo  a  year ; 
and  within  the  last  ten  years  Mr.  Richard  Thornton 
bequeathed  a  large  sum  to  the  charity.  One  can- 
not, therefore,  be  astonished  to  find,  particularly 
when  we  remember  that  the  school  is  especially 
connected  with  the  Corporation  of  London,  that 
the  present  gross  income  of  Christ's  Hospital  is 
now  about  ^^7  0,000  per  annum,  of  which  about 
;^42,ooo  is  expended  on  education. 

The  Schools'  Inquiry  Commissioners  hesitate  to 
dist'orb  the  old  dress,  which  Charles  Lamb  has  de- 
clared it  would  be  a  kind  of  sacrilege  to  change ; 
it  is,  however,  very  distasteful  to  the  "  Grecians," 
or  senior  boys. 

The  number  of  boys  in  the  school  at  present  is, 
as  anile,  about  t,2oo,  of  whom  somewhat  less  than 
800  are  at  the  premises  in  Newgate  Street ;  the 
remainders- the  younger  boys — being  kept  at  Hert- 
ford for  from  one  to  three  years  before  being  sent 
to  the  London  institution.  As  a  general  rule  the 
boys  are  supposed  to  leave  at  fifteen  years  of  age, 
the  Grecians  and  Deputy-Grecians,  with  a  few  of 
the  King's  scholars,  who  require  a  further  time  for 
their  studies,  remaining  longer  in  the  school.  The 
age  of  admission  is  seven,  the  boys,  as  is  well 
known,  being  nominated  by  the  various  members 
of  the  governing  body.  In^'  addition  to  the  fixed 
body  of  governors  there  are  a  large  number  of  pre- 
sentation governors,  who  have  each  paid  .;^5oo  to 
the  funds  of  the  charity.     This  payment,  indeed. 


is  not  supposed  necessarily  to  cause  the  donor  to 
be  elected  a  governor,  iDut  as  the  privilege  has 
rarely  been  withheld,  it  is  practically  the  fact  that 
such  a  gift  will,  in  all  reasonable  probability,  secure 
an  appointment  as  governor  with  its  corresponding 
benefits.  It  has  been  calculated  that  a  governor 
so  appointed  has,  in  twelve  years  from  his  appoint- 
ment, through  his  nominees,  received  a  benefit  of 
over  ;^9oo  from  the  charity.  Whether  the  charity 
was  founded  with  this  intention,  we  leave  our  readers 
to  judge.  No  doubt,  in  many  cases  the  ^uasi-Tpnr. 
chased  presentations  relieve  distressed  parents,  but 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  many  of  the  children  in 
the  school  (we  might  almost  say  the  larger  number) 
belong  to  a  class  of  persons  perfectly  able  to  sup- 
port them,  without  any  appeal  to  the  funds  of  the 
charity.  , 

The  education  given  at  the  hospital  is  of  a  supe- 
rior class,  and  many  of  the  past  students  have  taken 
high  honours  at  both  universities.  Between  twenty 
and  thirty  masters  are  employed  as  the  London 
staff,  of  whom  we  remark  that  the  head  master 
receives  what  appears  a  very  small  sum  for  such  a 
position. 

The  eminent  "  Blues''  of  former  times,  whom  we 
have  before  epitomised,  deserve  a  word  or  two  to 
themselves.  Edmund  Campian,  the  celebrated 
Jesuit,  after  a  quiet  life  as  a  professor  of  rhetoric  in 
a  Catholic  college  at  Prague,  came  to  England  pro- 
selytising, but  being  seized  by  Walsingham,  Eliza- 
beth's zealous  Secretary  of  State,  was  tried,  found 
guilty,  and  hung  at  Tyburn,  in  1581.  William 
Camden,  that  patriarch  of  English  antiquaries, 
whose  indefatigable  researches  and  study  of  Saxon 
rendered  his  work  of  special  value,  was  finally  ap- 
pointed by  Sir  Fulke  Greville,  his  friend,  to  a  post  in 
the  Heralds'  College.  Camden,  as  a  herald,  was  con- 
sulted by  Bacon  as  to  the  ceremonies  for  creating 
him  viscount.  In  his  old  age  Camden  founded  a 
history  lecture  at  Oxford,  and  died  at  his  house  at 
Chiselhurst,  in  Kent  (afterwards  occupied  by  the 
French  ex-emperor),  in  1623.  Camden's  papers 
relative  to  ecclesiastical  affairs  belonged  to  Arch- 
bishop Laud,  and  were,  it  is  supposed,  destroyed 
by  Prynne  and  Hugh  Peters.  Camden  seems  to 
have  been  an  easy,  unruffled  man.  He  was  ac- 
cused by  his  enemies  of  borrowing  too  freely,  and 
without  acknowledgment,  from  his  predecessor, 
Leland.  He  wrote  some  by  no  means  indifferent 
Latin  poetry,  and  an  epitaph  on  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots.  Joshua  Barnes,  Greek  professor  at  Cam- 
bridge, was  another  shining  light  of  the  Bluecoats. 
His  editions  of  Homer  and  Anacreon  were  in  their 
time  celebrated.  He  died  in  1712,  and  on  the  old 
scholar's  monument  it  is  recorded  that  he  had  read 


375 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Chrlit't  Hoipital, 


his  small  English  Bible  through  121  times.  Dr. 
Bentley,  used  to  say  of  Joshua  Barnes  that  "he 
understood  as  much  of  Greek  as  an  Athenian 
cobbler."  In  Emmanuel  Library  great  bundles  of 
E.ames's  Greek  verses  fade  and  gather  dust,  to- 
gether with  part  of  a  Latin-Greek  lexicon  never 
finished.  Jeremiah  Markland,  a  learned  scholar 
and  critic,  was  another  memorable  "Blue."  He 
vindicated  Addison's  character  against  Pope's 
satire,  was  sneered  at  by  Warburton,  and  edited 
many  editions  of  classical  works.  Latterly,  this 
worthy  scholar  lived  in  retirement,  near  Dorking, 
and  twice  refused  the  Greek  professorship.  Poor 
George  Dyer,  Lamb's  friend,  a  true  "Blue"  in- 
deed, was  originally  a  reporter  and  private  tutor. 
He  wrote  some  weak  poems,  and  edited  Valpy's 
unsuccessful  Delphin  classics.  Dr.  Middleton,  Lord 
Bishop  of  Calcutta,  another  "  Blue,"  was  early  in 
life  vicar  of  St.  Pancras.  Val  Le  Grice,  mentioned 
so  lovingly  by  Charles  Lamb,  afterwards  became  a 
perpetual  curate  of  Penzance,  where  he  helped  to 
found  a  geological  society,  and  was  an  opponent  of 
the  'Methodist  revival.  James  White,  another 
"  Blue  "  of  this  epoch,  for  some  time  filled  a  post 
in  the  hospital  country  house.  His  "Letters  of 
Falstaff"  were  much  applauded  by  the  Lamb  set. 
Meyer,  ntphew  of  Hoppner,  an  eminent  engraver, 
was  placed  in  the  hospital  by  Boydell's  interest. 
He  was  an  eminent  portrait-painter,  and  a  friend  of 
George  Dyer,  Another  great  credit  to  the  Blue- 
coat  School  was  the  Rev.  Thomas  Mitchell,  the 
admirable  translator  and  commentator  upon  the 
plays  of  Aristophanes.  Previous  to  his  dexterous 
rendering,  only  two  out  of  the  fifty-four  comedies 
of  Aristophanes  had  been  translated  into  English. 

Among  the  pictures  in  the  dining-hall  we  should 
not  forget  a  simple-hearted  representation  of  Sir 
Brook  Watson  (Lord  Mayor)  escaping  when  a  boy 
from  the  shark  that  bit  his  leg  off  while  bathing. 
This  is  the  work  of  Copley,  the  father  of  Lord 
Lyndhurst.  A  wit  of  the  time  had  the  cruelty,  from 
personal  knowledge  of  this  worthy  Lord  Mayor,  to 
observe  that  if  the  shark  had  got  hold  of  Sir  Brook 
Watson's  skull,  instead  of  his  leg,  the  shark  would 
have  got  the  worst  of  it. 

There  is  a  curious  history  attached  to  the  portrait 
of  a  Mr.  John  St.  Amaud,  the  grandfather  of  a 
benefactor  to  the  hospital,  which  hangs  in  the 
treasury.  By  the  terms  of  James  St.  Arnaud's  will 
all  the  money  he  left  passes  to  the  University  of 
Oxford,  if  this  picture  is  ever  lost  or  given  away  • 
and  the  same  deprivation  occurs  if  this  picture  is 
not  produced  once  a  year  at  the  general  court,  and 
also  sho\^,  on  requisition,  to  the  Vice-Chancellor 
or  his  deputy.  As  the  St.  Amauds  had  intermarried, 


in  the  reign  of  Henry  IIL,  with  the  luckless  Stuarts, 
there  is  a  tradition  in  the  school  that  this  picture 
is  the  portrait  of  the  Pretender,  but  this  is  an  un- 
founded notion. 

A  veiy  old  feature  of  Christ's  Hospital  is  the 
public  suppers  on  the  seven  Sunday  evenings  pre- 
ceding Easter,  for  which  pleasant  sight  the  treasurer 
and  governors  have  the  right  of  issuing  tickets.  It 
is  a  pretty,  quaint  ceremony  of  the  old  times,  and 
was  witnessed  by  Queen  Victoria  and  Prince  Albert, 
in  1845.  The  long  tables  are  laid  with  cheese  in 
wooden  bowls,  beer,  in  wooden  piggins,  poured 
out  from  black  leather  jacks,  and  the  bread  is  borne 
in  ih  huge  baskets.  The  interesting  ceremony 
commences  by  the  steward  rapping  a  table  three 
times  with  a  hammer.  The  first  stroke  is  for  taking 
places,  the  second  for  sUence,  the  third  is  the  signal 
for  a  Grecian  to  read  the  evening  lesson  from  the 
pulpit,  which  lesson  is  followed  by  appropriate 
prayers.  The  Lord  Mayor,  as  President,  is  seated 
in  a  state  chair  made  of  oak  from  old  St.  Kathe- 
rine's  Church.  A  psalm  is  then  sung,  which  is 
followed  by  a  short  grace.  The  "amen"  at  the 
end  of  the  prayers,  pronounced  by  nearly  800 
voices,  has  an  electrical  effect.  The  visitors  walk 
between  the  tables,  and  mark  the  happy,  excited 
faces  and  the  commensurate  appetite  of  youth. 
After  supper,  about  which  there  is  no  "coy,  re- 
luctant, amorous  delay,"  an  anthem  is  sung,  and 
the  boys  then  pass  before  the  president's  chair  in 
procession,  bow,  and  retire. 

The  wards  are  each  headed  by  their  special 
nurses,  who  formerly,  when  the  public  suppers 
began  at  Christmas  and  ended  at  Easter,  were  each 
preceded  by  a  little  Bluecoat  holding  two  high 
candlesticks,  the  "trade  boys"  of  each  ward  car- 
rying the  piggins  and  jacks,  the  bowls,  candlesticks, 
tablecloths,  bread-baskets,  and  knife-baskets.  It 
was  a  prettier  sight  with  lights  than  it  is  now  by 
daylight,  and  it  makes  one  young  again  to  see  it. 

The  Spital  sermons,  says  Mr.  Timbs,  are  preached 
in  Christchurch,  Newgate  Street,  on  Easter  Monday 
and  Tuesday,  before  the  Lord  Mayor  and  corpora- 
tion, and  the  governors  of  the  five  royal  hospitals ; 
the  bishops  in  turn  preaching  on  Monday,  and 
usually  his  lordship's  chaplain  on  Tuesday.  On 
Monday  the  children,  headed  by  the  beadle,  pro- 
ceed to  the  Mansion  House,  and  return  in  pro- 
cession to  Christchurch,  with  the  Lord  Mayor  and 
the  City  authorities,  to  hear  the  sermon.  On 
Tuesday  the  children  again  go  to  the  Mansion 
House,  and  pass  through  the  Egyptian  Hall  before 
the  Lord  Mayor,  each  boy  receiving  a  glass  of 
wine,  two  buns,  and  a  shilling,  the  monitors  half-a- 
crown  each,  and  the  Grecians  a  guinea.   They  then 


Christ's  Hospital.] 


THE  DIETARY  OF  CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL. 


377 


return  to  Christchurch,  as  on  Monday.  The  boys 
formerly  visited  the  Royal  Exchange  on  Easter 
Monday,  but  this  has  been  discontinued  since  the 
burning  of  the  last  Exchange  in  1838. 

"At  the  first  drawing-room  of  the  year,"  says  the 
same  writer,  "forty  'mathematical  boys'  are  pre- 
sented to  the  sovereign,  who  gives  them  /^8  8s.  as 
a  gratuity.  To  this  other  members  of  the  Royal 
Family  formerly  added  smaller  sums,  and  the 
whole  was  divided  among  the  ten  boys  who  left 
the  school  in  the  year.  During  the  ijlness  of 
George  III.  these  presentations  were  discontinued, 
but  the  governors  of  the  hospital  continued  to  pay 
;^i  3s.,  the  amount  ordinarily  received  by  each,  to 
every  boy  on  quitting.  The  practice  of  receiving 
the  children  was  revived  by  William  IV," 

Each  of  the  "  mathematical  boys,"  haying  passed 
his  Trinity  House  examination,  and  received  testi- 
monials of  his  good  conduct,  is  presented  with  a 
watch  worth  from  j£g  to  ;^i3,  in  addition  to  an 
outfit  of  clothes,  books,  mathematical  instruments, 
a  Gunter's  scale,  a  quadrant,  and  sea-chest. 

On  St.  Matthew's  Day  (Sept.  21)  the  Grecians 
deliver  orations  before  the  Lord  Mayor,  corpora- 
tion, governors,  and  their  friends,  this  being  a 
relic  of  the  scholars'  disputations  in  the  cloisters. 
"  Christ's  Hospital,"  says  an  aijthor  we  have  already 
quoted,  "  by  ancient  custom  possesses  the  privilege 
of  addressing  the  sovereign,  on  the  occasion  of  his 
or  her  coming  into  the  City,  to  partake  of  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  corporation  of  London.  On  the  visit 
of  Queen  Victoria  in  1837  a  booth  was  erected  for 
the  hospital  boys-  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  and  on 
the  royal  carriage  reaching  the  cathedral  west  gate 
the  senior  scholar,  with  the  head  master  and  trea- 
surer, advanced  to  the  coach-door  and  delivered  a 
congratulatory  address  to  Her  Majesty,  with  a  copy 
of  the  same  on  vellum." 

The  annual  amount  of  salaries  in  London  and 
Hertford  was  about  _;^5,ooo.  About  200  boys,  says 
Mr.  Tirabs  in  1868,  are  admitted  annually.  By  the 
regulations  passed  at  a  court  in  1809  it  was  decreed 
"  that  no  children  of  livery  servants  (except  they  be 
freemen  of  the  City  of  London),  and  no  children 
who  have  any  adequate  means  of  being  educated 
or  maintained,  and  no  children  who  are  lamed, 
crooked,  or  deformed,  or  suffering  from  any  in- 
fectious or  incurable  disease,  should  be  admitted. 
Also,  that  a  certificate  from  a  minister,  church- 
warden, and  three  principal  inhabitants  of  the  parish 
be  required  with  every  child,  certifying  its  age,  and 
that  it  has  no  adequate  means  of  being  educated 
or  maintained."  How  far  this  rule  of  the  old  charity 
has  been  carried  out,  and  in  what  way  the  rigour 
pf  ?\ich  a  binding  fonn  has  been  evaded,  it  is  not 


for  us  to  say ;  but  one  thing  is  certain,  that  at  least 
one-half  of  the  boys  brought  up  in  Christ's  Hospital 
are  the  sons  of  well-to-do  gentlemen.  It  is  no 
use  denying  the  disagreeable  but  certain  fact  that 
Christ's  Hospital  was  originally  a  charity  intended 
to  educate  dependent  children,  and  it  is  now  a 
gratuitous  school  for  the  sons  of  professional  men. 

Mr.  Howard  Staunton,  writing  in  1869,,  says : 
"  On  an  average  four  scholars  are  annually  sent  to 
Cambridge  with  an  Exhibition  of  ;!^8o  a  year, 
tenable  for  four  years,  and  one  to  Oxford  with 
;^ioo  a  year  for  the  like  period.  Besides  these 
there  are  the  'Pitt  Club.'  Scholarship  and  the 
'  Times '  Scholarship,  each  of  £,2>°  ^  y^ar  for  four 
years,  which  are  awarded  by  competition  to  the 
best  scholar  in  classics  and  mathematics  combined, 
and  (held  by  him  in  addition  to  his  general  Ex- 
hibition. Upon  proceeding  to  the  university  each 
Grecian  receives  an  allowance  of  ;^2o  for  books, 
;^io  for  apparel,  and  ;^30  for  caution -.money  and 
settling-fees." 

The  dietary  of  the  boys  is  still  somewhat  mo- 
nastic. The  breakfast,  till  1824,  was  plain  bread 
and  beer,  and  the  dinner  three  times  a  week  con- 
sisted only  of  milk-porridge,  rice-mjlk,  and  pea- 
soup.  The  old  school-rhyme^  imperishable  as  the 
Iliad,  runs — 

"  Sunday,  all  saints  ; 
Monday,  all  souls ; 
Tuesday,  all  trenchers ; 
Wednesday,  all  bowls ; 
Thursday,  tough  Jack ; 
Friday,  no  better ; 
Saturday,  pea-soup  with  bread  and  butter.'' 

The  boys,  like  the  friars  in  the  old  refectory,  still 
eat  their  meat  off  wooden  trenchers,  and  ladle  their 
soup  with  wooden  spoons  from  wooden  bowls. 
The  beer  is  brought  tip  in  leather  jacks,  and  retailed 
in  small  piggins.  Charles  Lamb,  as  we  have  seen 
before,  does  not  speak  highly  of  the  food.  The 
small  beer  was  of  the  smallest,  and  tasted  of  its 
leather  receptacle.  The  milk-porridge  was  blue 
and  tasteless;  the  pea-soup  coarse  and  choking. 
The  mutton  was  roasted  to  shreds  ;  the  boiled  beef 
was  poisoned  with  marigolds. 

There  was  a  curious  custom  at  Christ's  Hospital 
in  Lamb's  time  never  to  touch  "  gags  "  (the  fat  of 
the  fresh  boiled  beef),  and  a  "Blue"  would  have 
blushed,  .as  at  the  exposure  of  some  heinous  im- 
morality, to  have  been  detected  eating  that  for- 
bidden portion  of  his  allowance  of  animal  food, 
the  whole  of  which,  while  he  was  in  health,  was 
little  more  than  sufficient  to  allay  his  hunger.  The 
same,  or  even  greater  refinement,  was  shown  in  the 
rejection  of  certain  kinds  of  sweet  oak?.    W}i£it 


378 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Christ's  Hospital. 


gave  rise  to  these  supererogatory  penances,  these 
self-denying  ordinances  ?  The  gag-eater  was  held 
as  equivalent  to  a  ghoul,  loathed,  shunned,  and 
insulted.  Of  a  certain  juvenile  monster  of  this 
kind  Lamb  tells  us  one  of  his  most  charming 
anecdotes,  droll  and  tender  as  his  own  exquisite 
humour.  A  gag-eater  was  observed  to  carefully 
gather  the  fat  left  on  the  table,  and  to  secretly  stow 
away  the  disreputable  morsels  in  the  settle  at  his 


up  four  flights  of  stairs,  and  the  wicket  was  opened 
by  an  old  woman  meanly  clad.  Suspicion  being 
now  certainty,  the  spies  returned  with  cruel  triumph 
to  tell  the  steward.  He  investigated  the  matter 
with  a  kind  and  patient  sagacity,  and  the  result 
was,  that  the  supposed  mendicants  turned  out  to 
be  really  the  honest  parents  of  the  brave  gag-eater. 
"  This  young  stork,  at  the  expense  of  his  own  good 
name,  had  all  this  while  been  only  feeding  the  old 


THE  HALL  OF  CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL. 


bedside.  A  dreadful  rumour  ran  that  he  secretly 
devoured  them  at  midnight ;  but  he  was  watched 
again  and  again,  and  it  was  not  so.  At  last,  on  a 
leave-day,  he  was  marked  carrying  out  of  bounds 
a  large  blue  check  handkerchief.  That,  then,  was 
the  accursed  thing.  It  was  suggested  that  he  sold 
it  to  beggars.  Henceforward  he  moped  alone.  No 
one  spoke  to  him  ;  no  one  played  with  him.  Still 
he  persevered.  At  last  two  boys  traced  him  to  a 
large  worn-out  house  inhabited  by  the  very  poor, 
such  as  then  stood  in  Chancery  Lane,  with  open 
doors  and  common  staircases.     The  gag- eater  stole 


birds."  "The  governors  on  this  occasion,"  says 
Lamb,  "much  to  their  honour,  voted  a  present 
relief  to  the  family,  and  presented  the  boy  with  a 
silver  medal.  The  lesson  which  the  steward  read 
upon  rash  judgment,  on  the  occasion  of  publicly 
delivering  the  medal,  I  believe  would  not  be  lost 
upon  his  auditory.  I  had  left  school  then,  but  I 
well  remember  the  tall,  shambling  youth,  with  a 
cast  in  his  eye,  not  at  all  calculated  to  conciliate 
hostile  prejudices.  I  have  since  seen  him  carrying 
a  baker's  basket  I  think  I  heard  he  did  not  do 
so  well  by  himself  as  he  had  done  by  the  old  folks." 


Christ's  Hospital.]  THE  MODERN  FABRIC  OF  CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL. 


"There  were  some  school-rhymes,"  says  Leigh 
Hunt,  "about  'pork  upon  a  fork,'  and  the  Jews 
going  to  prison.  At  Easter  a  strip  of  bordered 
paper  was  stutk  on  the  breast  of  every  boy,  con- 
taining the  words,  '  He  is  risen.'  It  did  not  give 
us  the  slightest  thought  of  what  it  recorded;  it 
only  reminded  us  of  an  old  rhyme  which  some  of 
the  boys  used  to  go  about  the  school  repeating — 
'  He  is  risen,  he  is  risen, 
All  the  Jews  must  go  to  prison.' 


379_ 

Those  who  became  Grecians  always  went  to  the 
university,  though  not  always  into  the  Church, 
which  was  reckoned  a  departure  from  the  contract. 
When  I  first  came  to  school,  at  seven  years  old, 
the  names  of  the  Grecians  were  Allen,  Favell, 
Thomson,  and  Le  Grice,  brother  of  the  Le  Grice 
above  mentioned,  and  now  a  clergyman  in  Corn- 
wall. Charles  Lamb  had  lately  been  Deputy- 
Grecian,  and  Coleridge  had  left  for  the  university." 
In  1803  it  was  resolved  by  degrees  to  rebuild 


bird's-eye  view  of  the  old  charterhouse. 


A  beautiful  Christian  deduction  !  Thus  has  charity 
itself  been  converted  into  a  spirit  of  antagonism ; 
and  thus  it  is  that  the  antagonism,  in  the  progress 
of  knowledge,  becomes  first  a  pastime  and  then  a 
jest. 

"  When  a  boy,"  says  the  same  writer,  "  entered 
the  upper  school,  he  was  understood  to  be  in  the 
road  to  the  university,  provided  he  had  inclination 
and  talents  for  it ;  but,  as  only  one  Grecian  a  year 
went  to  college,  the  drafts  out  of  Great  and  Little 
Erasmus  into  the  writing-school  were  numerous. 
A  few  also  became  Deputy-Grecians  without  going 
farther,  and  entered   the  world   from  that  form. 


Christ's  Hospital.  Part  of  the  revenues  were  laid 
aside  for  a  building-fund,  and  ;^  1,000  was  given 
by  the  corporation.  The  first  stone  of  the  great 
Tudor  dining-hall  was  laid  by  the  Duke  of  York, 
April  28,  1825,  John  Shaw  being  the  architect. 
The  back  wall  stands  in  the  ditch  that  surrounded 
old  London,  and  is  built  on  piles  driven  twenty 
feet  deep.  In  excavating,  some  Roman  coins  and 
a  pair  of  Roman  sandals  were  discovered.  The 
southern  front,  facing  Newgate  Street,  is  supported 
by  buttresses,  and  has  an  octagonal  tower  at  each 
extremity,  and  is  embattled  and  pinnacled  in  a 
trivial  and  unreal  kind  of  way.     The  great  metal 


38o 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Charterhouse. 


gates  of  the  playground  are  enriched  with  the  arms 
of  the  hospital,  argent,  a  cross  gules  in  the  dexter 
chief,  a  dagger  of  the  first  on  a  chief  azure  between 
two  fleurs-de-lis,  or,  a  rose  argent.  Behind  the  hall 
is  the  large  infirmary,  built  in  1822,  and  on  the  east 
and  west  sides  of  the  cloisters  are  the  dormitories. 

"In  the  year  1552,"  says  Stow,  "began  the 
repairing  of  the  Grey  Friars'  house,  for  the  poor 
fatherless  children ;  and  in  the  month  of  (23)  No- 
vember, the  children  were  taken  into  the  same,  to 
the  number  of  almost  four  hundred.  On  Christmas 
Day,  in  the  afternoon,  while  the  Lord  Mayor  and 
aldermen  rode  to  Paules,  the  children  of  Christ's 
Hospital  stood  from  St.  Lawrence  Lane  end,  in 
Cheape,  towards  Paules,  all  in  one  livery  of  russet 
cotton,  three  hundred  and  forty  in  number ;  and  in 
Easter  next  they  were  in  blue  at  the  Spittle,  and  so 
have  continued  ever  since." 

A  dinner  given  the  other  day  to  Mr.  Tice,  late 
head  beadle  of  the  hospital,  to  present  him  with  a 
purse  of  seventy  guineas,  strongly  marks  the  brother- 
hood that  prevails  among  old  "  Blues."  The  first 
toast  drank  was  to  the  grand  old  words — "The 
religious,  royal,  and  ancient  foundation  of  Christ's 
Hospital.  May  those  prosper  who  love  it,  and 
may  God  increase  their  number."  One  of  the 
speakers  said — "  Mr.  Tice  had  an  immense  amount 
of  patronage  in  his  hands,  for  he  promoted  him  to 
be  '  lavatory-boy '  and  'jack-boy,'  till  at  last  he  rose 


to  the  height  of  his  ambition,  and  was  made 
'  beer-boy.'  He  remembered  there  was  a  tradition 
amongst  all  the  boys  who  went  to  Peerless  Pool, 
that  unless  they  touched  a  particular  brick  they 
would  inevitably  be  drowned.  The  grandest  days 
of  all,  though,  were  the  public  suppings,  at  which 
Mr.  Tice  had  to  precede  the  Lord  Mayor  in  the 
procession,  and  people  used  to  be  always  asking 
who  he  was.  He  was  taken  for  the  French  Ambas- 
sador, for  Garibaldi,  and  indeed  for  everybody  but 
Mr.  Tice." 

"The  School  Inquiry  Commissioners,"  says  a 
London  paper  of  the  day,  "  propose  to  abolish  the 
Hertford  School,  on  which  ;^i  1,000  a  year  is 
expended,  and  devote  this  sum  to  the  establishment 
of  good  day-schools  in  various  districts  of  the 
metropolis.  The  present  London  school  they  will 
preserve,  making,  however,  the  places  in  it  only  to 
be  gained  by  merit,  the  time  to  be  spent  in  the 
school  being  shortened.  The  Endowed  School 
Commissioners  have  been  for  some  time  treating 
with  the  governing  body,  but  as  yet  it  is  feared 
without  much  success,  although  Mr.  Forster  stated 
in  the  House  of  Commons  last  year  that  it  was 
hoped  some  agreement  would,  before  long,  be 
successfully  carried  out.  Whether  ;^42,ooo  a  year 
ought  not  to  do  more  than  it  at  present  does,  is  a 
question  which  many  good  judges  have,  for  many 
years,  answered  in  the  affirmative." 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 
THE     CHARTERHOUSE. 

The  Plague  of  1348— The  Origin  of  the  Charterhouse— Sir  Thomas  More  there— Cromwell's  Commissioners— Prior  Houghton— The  Departure  of 
the  Carthusians  from  London— A  Visit  from'  the  Grave— Effect  of  the  Dissolution  on  the  Charterhouse  Priory— The  Charterhouse  and  the 
Howards— Thomas  Sutton— Bishop  Hall's  Letter  and  its  Effect— Sutton's  Death— Baxter's  Claim  defeated— A  Letter  from  Bacon— Settle- 
ment of  the  Charterhouse  :  its  Constitution— Sutton's  Will — His  Detractors — Funeral  Sermon. 


In  the  year  1348  (Edward  III.)  a  terrible  pesti- 
lence devastated  London.  The  dirt  and  crowding 
of  the  old  mediaeval  cities  made  them  at  all  times 
nurseries  of  infectious  disease,  and  when  a  great 
epidemic  did  come  it  mowed  down  thousands. 
The  plague  of  1348  was  so  inappeasable  that  it  is 
said  grave-diggers  could  hardly  be  found  to  bury 
the  dead,  and  many  thousand  bodies  were  care- 
lessly thrown  into  mere  pits  dug  in  the  open  fields. 
Ralph  Stratford,  Bishop  of  London,  shocked  at ' 
these  unsanctified  interments,  in  his  zeal  to  amend 
the  evil  consecrated  three  acres  of  waste  ground, 
called  "No  Man's  Land,"  outside  the  walls,  between 
the  lands  of  the  Abbey  of  Westminster  and  those 
of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  at  Clerkenwell.  He  there 
erected  a  small  chapel,  wh^r^  masses  were  said  for 


the  repose  of  the  dead,  and  named  the  place 
Pardon  Churchyard.  The  plague  still  raging,  Sir 
Walter  de  Manny,  that  brave  knight  whose  deeds 
are  so  proudly  and  prominently  blazoned  in  the 
pages  of  Froissart,  purchased  of  the  brethren  of  St. 
Bartholomew  Spital  a  piece  of  ground  contiguous 
to  Pardon  Churchyard,  called  the  Spital  Croft,  which 
the  good  Bishop  Stratford  also  consecrated.  The 
two  burial-grounds,  afterwards  united,  were  known 
as  New  Church  Hawe. 

Stow,  in  his  "Survey,"  mentions  a  stone  cross 
in  this  cemetery,  recording  the  burial  there  during 
the  pestilence  of  50,000  persons.  In  1361,  Michael 
de  Northburgh,  Bishop  Stratford's  successor,  died, 
bequeathing  the  sum  of  ;^2,ooo,  for  founding  and 
building  a  Carthusian  monastery  at  Pardon  ^hurclj- 


TTie  Charterhouse- J 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  CHARTERHOUSE. 


381 


yard,  which  he  endowed  with  all  his  leases,  rents, 
and  tenements,  in  perpetuity.  He  also  bequeathed 
a  silver  enamelled  vessel  for  the  Host  and  one  for 
the  holy  water,  a  silver  bell,  and  all  his  books  of 
divinity.  Sir  Walter  de  Manny,  in  the  year  137 1, 
founded  a  Carthusian  convent,  which  he  called 
"  The  House  of  the  Salutation  of  the  Mother  of 
God."  This  he  endowed  with  the  thirteen  acres 
and  one  rod  of  land  which  Bishop  Stratford  had 
consecrated  for  burial,  and,  with  the  consent  of  the 
general  of  the  order,  John  Lustote  was  nominated 
first  prior.  Sir  Walter's  charter  of  foundation  was 
witnessed  by  the  Earls  of  Pembroke,  March,  Sarum, 
and  Hereford,  by  John  de  Barnes,  Lord  Mayor,  and 
William  de  Walworth  and  Robert  de  Gay  ton,  sheriffs. 

The  order  of  Carthusians,  we  may  here  remind 
our  readers,  was  founded  by  Bruno,  a  priest  in  the 
church  of  St.  Cunibert,  at  Cologne,  and  Canon  of 
Rheims,  in  Champagne,  in  1080  (William  the  Con- 
queror). Bruno,  grieved  at  the  sins  of  Cologne, 
withdrew  with  six  disciples  to  the  Chartreuse,  a 
desert  solitude  among  the  mountains  of  Dauphine. 
A  miracle  hastened  the  retirement  of  Bruno.  One 
of  his  friends,  supposed  to  be  of  unblemished  life, 
rose  from  his  bier,  and  exclaimed,  "  I  am  arraigned 
at  the  bar  of  God's  justice.  My  sentence  is  just 
now  passed.  I  am  condemned  by  the  just  judg- 
ment of  God."  Bruno  died  in  iioi,  and  miracles 
soon  after  were  effected  by  a  spring  that  broke  forth 
near  his  tomb. 

"Not  content,"  says  "Carthusian,"  "with  the 
rigorous  rule  of  St.  Benedict,  the  founder  imposed 
upon  the  order  precepts  so  severe  as  to  be  almost 
intolerable,  and  a  discipline  so  harsh,  that  it  was 
long  before  the  female  sex  could  be  induced  to 
subject  themselves  to  such  repugnant  laws.  One 
of  their  peculiarities  was,  that  they  did  not  live  in 
cells,  but  each  monk  had  a  separate  house,  in  which 
were  two  chambers,  a  closet,  refectory,  and  garden. 
None  went  abroad  but  the  prior  and  procurator, 
on  the  necessary  affairs  of  the  house.  They  were 
compelled  to  fast,  at  least  one  day  in  a  week,  on 
bread,  water,  and  salt ;  they  never  ate  flesh,  at  the 
peril  of  their  lives,  nor  even  fish,  unless  it  was 
given  them ;  they  slept  on  a  piece  of  cork,  with  a 
single  blanket  to  cover  them ;  they  rose  at  mid- 
night to  sing  their  matins,  and  never  spoke  to  one 
another  except  on  festivals  and  chapter  (Jays.  On 
holy  days  they  ate  together  at  the  common  refec- 
tory, and  were  strictly  charged  to  keep  their  eyes 
on  the  meat,  their  hands  upon  the  table,  their 
attention  on  the  reader,  and  their  hearts  fixed 
upon  God.  Their  laws  professed  to  limit  the 
quantity  of  land  they  should  possess,  in  order  to 
prevent  the  luxury  and  wealth  so  prevalent  among 


the  other  orders.  Their  clothing  consisted  of  two 
hair-cloths,  two  cowls,  two  pair  of  hose,  and  a 
cloak,  all  of  the  coarsest  manufacture,  contrived 
so  as  almost  to  disfigure  their  persons.  Their 
rigorous  laws  seem  to  have  prevented  the  increase 
of  their  order,  for  in  the  height  of  their  prosperity 
they  could  not  boast  of  more  than  172  houses,  of 
which  five  only  were  of  nuns." 

The  London  Charterhouse  was  the  fourth  house 
of  the  order  founded  in  England,  the  first  being 
at  Withani,  in  Somersetshire,  where  Hugh,  the 
holy  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  was  the  first  prior.  The 
grants  to  the  new  London  monastery  of  the  Car- 
thusians were  no  doubt  numerous,  as  we  find, 
among  others  enumerated  in  the  "  Chronicles  of 
the  Charterhouse,"  260  marks  given  by  Felicia 
de  Thymelby,  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  for  the 
endowment  of  a  monk  "to  pray  and  celebrate 
the  divine  offices  for  the  souls  of  Thomas  Aubrey 
and  the  aforesaid  Felicia,  his  wife ;"  also  a  grant 
of  one  acre  of  land  in  Conduit-shote  Field,  near 
Trillemyle  Brook,  in  the  parish  of  St.  Andrew, 
Holborn,  lying  between  the  pasture-land  of  the 
Convent  of  Charterhouse,  the  pasture  of  St. 
Bartholomew's  Priory,  and  the  king's  highway 
leading  from  Holborn  towards  Kentish  Town. 
The  prior  of  St.  John,  Clerkenwell,  also  frequently 
exchanged  lands,  and  we  find  the  Prior  of  Charter- 
house granting  a  trental  of  masses,  to  the  end  that 
"  the  soul  of  Brother  William  Hulles,  the  Prior  of 
the  Hospital  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  might  the 
sooner  be  conveyed,  with  God's  providence,  into 
Abraham's  bosom." 

"  About  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century," 
says  an  historian  of  the  Charterhouse,  "we  find 
our  convent  the  home  of  a  future  Lord  Chancellor 
of  England ;  for  we  read  that  Sir  Thomas  More 
'gave  himself  to  devotion  and  prayer,  in  the 
Charterhouse  of  London,  religiously  living  there 
without  vow  about  four  years.' " 

The  Charterhouse  had  flourished  for  nearly 
three  centuries  in  prosperity,  its  brethren  retaining 
a  good  character  for  severe  discipline  and  holy 
life,  when  the  storm  of  the  dissolution  broke  upon 
them.  Three  of  Cromwell's  cruel  commissioners 
visited  the  Charterhouse,  and  their  merciless  eyes 
soon  found  cause  of  complaint.  In  1534  John 
Houghton,  the  prior,  and  Humfry  Midylmore,  pro- 
curator, after  being  sent  to  the  Tower  for  a  month, 
were  released  on  signing  a  certificate  of  conditional 
conformity.  The  majority  of  the  brethren  refused 
to  subscribe  to  Henry's  supremacy.  The  exertions, 
however,  of  the  Confessor  to  the  Brigettine  Con- 
vent, at  Sion  House,  gradually  led  the  refractory 
monks  to  subscribe  to  the  king's  supremacy.    In 


382 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  CharterhouM. 


April,  1 535,  the  prior,  Houghton,  whose  adhesion 
had  been  received  with  distrust,  was  arraigned  on 
a  vague  charge  of  speaking  too  freely  of  the  king's 
proceedings,  and  he  and  two  other  Carthusians, 
one  a  father  of  Sion,  the  other  the  vicar  of  Isleworth, 
were  hung,  drawn,  and  quartered  at  Tyburn.  "  As 
they  were  proceeding  from  the  Tower  to  execution, 
Sir  Thomas  More,  who  was  then  confined  for  a 
similar  offence,  chanced  to  espy  them  from  the  win- 
dow of  his  dungeon ;  and,  as  one  longing  in  that 
journey  to  have  accompanied  them,  said  unto  his 
daughter,  then  standing  there  beside  him,  '  Lo,  dost 
thou  not  see,  Megg,  that  these  blessed  fathers  be 
now  as  cheerfully  going  to  their  deaths  as  bride- 
grooms to  their  marriage?'  Not  long  after  he 
followed  their  steps  on  his  way  to  the  scaffold." 

The  three  heads  were  exposed  on  London 
Bridge,  and  the  fragments  of  Prior  Houghton's 
body  were  barbarously  spiked  over  the  principal 
gate  of  Charterhouse.  The  prior's  fate,  however, 
only  roused  the  fanatical  zeal  of  the  brotherhood, 
and  the  very  next  month  three  more  monks  were 
condemned  and  executed.  From  the  letter  of 
Fylott,  one  of  the  king's  assistant  commissioners, 
we  learn  that  though  the  Charterhouse  monks 
claimed  to  be  solitary,  there  had  been  found  no 
less  than  twenty-four  keys  to  the  cloister  doors, 
and  twenty-two  to  the  buttery.  The  monks  plainly 
told  the  commissioners  that  they  would  listen  to 
no  preacher  who  denounced  images  and  blas- 
phemed saints ;  and  that  they  would  read  their 
Doctors,  and  go  no  further. 

The  monks  had  not  long  to  rest.  In  1537  the 
Charterhouse  brothers  refused  to  renounce  the 
Pope  by  oath,  or  acknowledge  Henry  as  supreme 
head  on  earth  of  the  English  Church.  Some  of  the 
order  who  had  previously  yielded  now  refused  to 
obey,  and  were  at  once  hurried  to  prison.  The 
monastery  was  then  dissolved,  and  Prior  Trafford 
at  once  resigned.  The  majority  ot  the  monks 
consented  to  the  surrender,  the  prior  receiving  an 
annual  pension  of  £,20,  and  the  monks  ^^5  each. 
Nine  out  of  ten  brothers,  cruelly  handled  in  New- 
gate, were  literally  starved  to  death.  The  survivor, 
after  four  years'  misery,  was  executed  in  1541. 

"According  to  Dugdale,"  says  "Carthusian," 
"  the  annual  revenues  of  this  house  amounted  at 
the  dissolution  to  £,(0^2  os.  4d.,  whilst  the  united 
revenues  of  the  nine  houses  of  Carthusians  in  Eng- 
land were  valued  at  the  sum  of  ;^2,947  15s.  4|d. 

"  Before  the  final  departure  of  the  convent  from 
London,  sundry  miracles  are  said  to  have  been 
wrought,  and  revelations  to  have  been  made,  urging 
the  brothers  to  abide  in  the  faith,  and  to  bear 
witness  of  the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion  at  the 


expense  of  their  lives.  Unearthly  lights  were  seen 
shining  on  their  church.  At  the  burial  of  one  of 
their  saints,  when  all  things  appeared  mournful 
and  solemn,  a  sudden  flash  of  heavenly  flame 
kindled  all  the  lamps  of  their  church,  which  were 
only  lighted  on  great  days ;  and  a  deceased  father 
of  the  convent  twice  visited  a  living  monk  who 
had  attended  him  in  his  last  illness.  The  narrar 
tive  of  this  last  pseudo-miracle  is  given  in  the 
following  letter,  written  by  the  favoured  monk  :— 

"  Item.  The  same  day,  at  five  of  the  clock  at  aftemoon, 
I  being  in  contemplation  in  our  entry,  in  our  cell,  suddenly 
he  appeared  unto  me  in  a  monk's  habit,  and  said  to  me,  '  Why 
do  ye  not  follow  our  father?'  and  I  said,  'Wherefore?' 
He  said,  '  For  he  is  entered  in  heaven,  next  unto  angels ;' 
and  I  said,  'Where  be  all  our  other  fathers,  which  died  as 
well  ?'  He  answered  and  said,  '  They  be  well,  but  not  so 
well  as  he?'  And  then  I  said  to  him,  'Father,  how  do  you?' 
And  he  answered  and  said,  '  Well  enough. '  And  I  said, 
'  Father,  shall  I  pray  for  you  ?'  And  he  said,  '  I  am  well 
enough,  but  prkyer,  both  from  you  and  others,  doeth  good;' 
and  so  suddenly  vanished  away. 

' '  Item.  Upon  Saturday  next  after,  at  five  of  the  clock  in 
the  morning,  in  the  same  place,  in  our  entry,  he  appeared 
to  me  again,  with  a  large  white  beard,  and  a  white  staff  in  his 
hand,  lifting  it  up,  whereupon  1  was  afraid ;  and  then, 
leaning  upon  his  staif,  said  to  me,  '  I  am  sorry  that  I  lived 
not  till  I  had  been  a  martyr.'  And  I  said,  '  I  think  that  he, 
as  well  as  ye,  was  a  martyr.'  And  he  said,  '  Nay,  Fox, 
my  lord  of  Rochester,  and  our  father,  was  next  unto  angels 
in  heaven.'  And  then  I  said,  'Father,  what  else?'  And 
then  he  answered  and  said,  '  The  angels  of  peace  did  lament 
and  mourn  without  measure  ;'  and  so  vanished  away." 

The  remnant  of  the  order  sought  refuge  in 
Bruges.  Returning  in  1555,  they  were  reinstated 
at  Shene,  near  Richmond,  by  Cardinal  Pole,  but 
Elizabeth  soon  expelled  them,  and  they  fled  to 
Nieuport,  in  Belgium,  where  they  remained  till  the 
suppression  of  religious  orders  by  Joseph  H.,  in 
1783.  One  of  their  chief  treasures,  an  illuminated 
Bible,  given  the  Shene  monastery  by  Henry  V.,  was 
in  existence  in  the  Tuileries  in  1847. 

The  dissolution  pressed  heavily  on  the  Charter- 
house Priory,  of  which  almost  all  that  now  remains 
is  part  of  the  south  wall  of  the  nave,  incorporated 
in  the  present  chapel.  When  the  monasteries  be- 
came lumber-rooms,  stables,  and  heaps  of  mere 
history  materials,  Charterhouse  was  tossed  (as 
Henry  threw  sops  to  his  dogs)  to  John  Biydges, 
yeoman,  and  Thomas  Hale,  groom  of  the  king's 
"  hales "  and  tents,  as  a  reward  for  their  care  of 
Henry's  nets  and  pavilions  deposited  in  the  old 
monastery.  They  retained  the  sacred  property  for 
three  years,  and  then  surrendered  the  grant  for  an 
annual  pension  of  ;^io.  The  king  then  cast  this 
portion  of  God's  land  to  Sir  Thomas  Audley, 
Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons,  from  whom  it 
passed   to  Sir  Edward  North,   one  of  the  king's 


'fhe  Chafterhouse.j 


The  charterhouse  and  the  Howards. 


3^3 


serjeants-at-law,   and   a    privy-councillor   in   high 
favour  with  the  royal  tyrant. 

"  But  even  he,"  says  one  historian,  "  was  not  free 
from  Henry's  suspicion  and  distrust,  as  the  following 
anecdote  will  show : — One  morning,  a  messenger 
frorajthe  king  arrived  at  Charterhouse,  commanding 
the  immediate  presence  of  Sir  Edward  at  court.  One 
of  North's  servants,  a  groom  of  the  bedchamber, 
who  delivered  the  message,  observed  his  master  to 
tremble.  Sir  Edward  made  haste  to  the  palace, 
taking  with  him  this  said  servant,  and  was  admitted 
to  the  king's  presence.  Henry,  who  was  walking 
with  great  earnestness,  regarded  him  with  an  angry 
look,  which  Sir  Edward  received  with  a  very  still 
and  sober  carriage.  At  last  the  king  broke  out  in 
these  words  :  '  We  are  informed  you  have  cheated 
us  of  certain  lands  in  Middlesex.'  Receiving  a 
humble  negative  from  Sir  Edward,  he  replied, '  How 
was  it  then?  did  we  give  those  lands  to  you?' 
To  which  Sir  Edward  responded,  'Yes,  sire ;  your 
Majesty  was  pleased  so  to  do.'  The  king,  after 
some  little  pause,  put  on  a  milder  countenance,  and 
calling  him  to  a  cupboard,  conferred  privately  with 
him  for  a  long  time ;  whereby  the  servant  saw  the 
king  could  not  spare  his  master's  service  yet.  From 
this  period  Sir  Edward  advanced  still  higher  in  the 
estimation  of  the  king,  and  at  his  death  received  a 
legacy  of  ;^30o,  besides  being  included  among  the 
sixteen  guardians  appointed  during  the  minority 
of  his  son,  Edward  VI.  North  was  compelled  to 
acknowledge  Lady  Jane  Grey's  right  to  the  throne, 
but  subsequently  changed  his  opinions,  and  was 
one  of  the  first  to  proclaim  the  Princess  Mary 
queen.  For  his  flexibility  he  was  soon  after  re- 
elected to  the  Privy  Council,  and  elevated  to  the 
peerage,  17th  February,  1554,  being  then  sum- 
moned to  Parhament  by  the  title  of  Baron  North." 
Sir  Edward  North  conveyed  Charterhouse  to 
the  Duke  of  Northumberland;  but  on  the  execu- 
tion of  the  duke  the  house  was  granted  again  to 
Sir  Edward  North.  In  1558,  on  her  journey  from 
Hatfield  to  London,  Queen  EUzabeth  was  met  at 
Highgkte  by  the  Lord  Mayor  and  corporation,  and 
Conducted  to  Charterhouse,  where  she  stayed  many 
days.  In  1561  Elizabeth  made  another  visit  to 
Lord  North,  and  remained  with  him  four  days. 
This  visit  is  supposed  to  have  crippled  this  noble- 
man, who  lived  in  privacy  the  femainder  of  his 
days,  but  was,  in  compensation,  appointed  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  Cambridgeshire  and  the  Isle  of  Ely. 
Lord  North  died  in  1564;  and  his  son  Roger 
sold  Charterhouse  in  1565  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
(without  Pardon  Chapel  and  Whitewell  Beach)  for 
^2,500,  and  for  a  further  ^£320  eventually  sur- 
rendered the  rest  of  the  estate. 


"  Here  the  duke,"  says  the  author  of  the  "  Chro- 
nicles of  the  Charterhouse,"  "  resided  till  the  year 
1569,  when  he  was  committed  to  the  Tower  for 
being  implicated  in  a  conspiracy  for  the  restoration 
of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  and  for  engaging  in  a 
design  of  espousal  between  himself  and  fallen 
royalty.  From  the  Tower  he  was  released  in  the 
following  year,  and  allowed  to  return  to  the  Charter- 
house ;  but  he  resumed  his  traitorous  idea  of  mar- 
riage, and  his  papers  and  correspondence  being 
discovered  in  concealment,  some  under  the  roof  of 
his  house,  and  others  under  the  door-mat  of  his 
bedchamber,  he  was  attainted  of  high  treason,  and 
again  incarcerated  in  the  Tower,  on  the  7th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1571.  This  unfortunate  nobleman  suffered 
on  the  scaffold  in  the  year  1572,  when  the  Charter- 
house, along  with  his  other  estates,  escheated  to  the 
Crown.  His  son  Philip,  Earl  of  Arundel,  was  im- 
peached in  1590,  for  also  favouring  Mary,  and  died 
in  prison  in  the  year  1595,  most  probably  escaping 
by  disease  a  more  disgraceful  and  ignominious 
death  by  the  hands  of  the  executioner." 

On  the  death  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  that  fair 
siren  who  had  been  so  fatal  to  the  House  of  Nor- 
folk, Elizabeth  generously  returned  the  forfeited 
estates  to  the  Norfolk  family.  Lord  Thomas 
Howard,  the  duke's  second  son,  receiving  Charter- 
house. The  Howards  flourished  better  under 
King  James,  who  remembered  they  had  assisted 
his  mother,  and  he  visited  Charterhouse  for 
several  days,  knighted  more  than  eighty  gentlemen 
there,  and  soon  after  made  Lord  Howard  Earl  of 
Suffolk.  Of  this  earl.  Charterhouse — or  Howard 
House,  as  it  was  now  called — was  purchased  by 
that  remarkable  man,  Thomas  Sutton,  the  founder 
of  one  of  London's  greatest  and  most  permanent 
charities. 

"  Of  noble  and  worthy  parentage,  this  gentle- 
man," says  the  author  of  the  "Chronicles  of  the 
Charterhouse,"  "  descended  from  one  of  the  most 
ancient  families  of  Lincolnshire,  was  born  at  Knaith, 
in  that  county,  in  the  yeat  1531.  His  father  was 
Edward  Sutton,  steward  to  the  courts  of  the  Cor- 
poration of  Lincoln,  son  of  Thomas  Sutton,  servant 
to  Edward  IV. ;  and  his  mother,  Jane,  daughter 
of  Robert  Stapleton,  Esq.,  a  branch  of  the  noble 
family  of  the  Stapletons  of  Yorkshire,  one  of  whom 
was  Sir  Miles  Stapylton,  one  of  the  first  Knights  of 
the  Garter,  and  Sir  Bryan  Stapylton,  of  Carleton, 
tempore  Richard  II.,  also  a  Knight  of  the  Garter  : 
'  ancestors,'  as  the  learned  antiquary.  Heme,  justly 
observes,  'not  so  low,  that  his  descent  should  be 
a  shame  to  his  virtues  ;  not  yet  so  great,  but  that 
his  virtue  might  be  an  ornament  to  his  birth.'  He 
was  brought  up  for  three  years  at  Eton,  under  the 


384 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Charterhouse. 


tuition  of  Mr.  Cox,  aftenvards  Bishop  of  Ely,  and 
two  years  in  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.  In 
1553,  however,  he  removed  from  Cambridge, 
without  having  taken  a  degree,  and  became  a 
student  of  Lincoln's  Inn.  But  here  he  did  not 
remain  long;  his  desire  of  travel  increasing  with 
his  knowledge,  and  his  principles  (he  being  a 
member  of  the  Anglican  Church)  compelling  him 
to  leave  London,  he  determined  to  visit  foreign 
parts.      He  accordingly  departed  for  Spain,  and 


had  once  held ;  and  it  appears  that  Mr.  Sutton  him- 
self acted  as  a  volunteer,  and  commanded  a  battery 
at  the  memorable  siege  of  Edinburgh,  when  that 
city  held  out  for  the  unfortunate  Mary.  After  a 
blockade  of  five  weeks,  the  castle  surrendered  on 
the  28th  May,  1573..  On  his  return  from  Scotland, 
Mr.  Sutton  obtained  a  lease  of  the  manors  of 
Gateshead  and  Wickham,  near  Newcastle.  This 
was  the  source  of  his  immense  wealth,  for  having 
'  several  rich  veins  of  coal,'  which  he  worked  with 


THE  CHARTERHOUSE,  FROM  THE  SQUARE.     {From  a  View  by  Grey,  published  ill  1804.) 


having  stayed  there  half  a  year,  passed  into  Italy, 
France,  and  the  Netherlands.  He  is  said  to  have 
taken  a  part  in  the  Italian  wars,  and  was  present  at 
the  sacking  of  Rome,  under  the  Duke  of  Bourbon. 
He  returned  to  England  in  the  year  1561,  and 
through  a  recommendation  from  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk, he  became  secretary  to  the  Earl  of  Warwick, 
who, '  in  consideration  of  trewe  and  faithful  service 
to  us  done  by  our  well-beloved  servant,  Thomas 
Sutton,'  appointed  him  Master  of  the  Ordnance  of 
Berwick-upon-Tweed,  and  granted  him  an  annuity 
of  ;^3  6  s.  8d.  for  life.  When  Lord  Westmoreland's 
rebellion  broke  out  in  the  North,  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick created  Mr.  Sutton  Master-Gejieral  of  the 
Ordnance  in  that  quarter,  a  post  which  he  himself 


great  advantage,  he  had  become,  in  1585,  worth 
;^So,ooo.  The  following  year  he  left  Newcastle ' 
for  London,  and  assisted  against  the  Spanish 
Armada,  by  fitting  out  a  ship,  named  after  himself, 
Sutton,  which  captured  for  him  a  Spanish  vessel, 
worth  ;^2o,ooo. 

"  He  brought  with  him  to  London  the  reputation 
of  being  a  moneyed  man,  insomuch  that  it  was  re- 
ported 'that  his  purse  returned  from  the  North 
fuller  than  Queen  Ehzabeth's  Exchequer.'  He  was 
resorted  to  by  citizens,  so  that  in  process  of  time 
he  became  the  banker  of  London,  and  was  made  a 
freeman,  citizen,  and  girdler  of  the  City. 

"  Mr.  Sutton,  being  now  a  dvanced  in  years,thought 
proper  to  retire  from  public  life.     He  relinquished 


The  Charterhouse.] 


THE  TRUE  VALUE   OF   GOLD. 


38s 


Jiis  patent  of  Master-General  of  the  Ordnance, 
and  on  the  20th  of  June  following  he  executed 
A  will,  in  which  he  surrendered  all  his  estates  in 
Essex  to  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  Sir  John  Pop- 
bam,  and  others  (with  power  of  revocation), 
in  trust,  to  found  an  hospital  at  Hallingbury 
Bouchers,  in  Essex,  which  place,  as  will  be  seen, 
he  afterwards  changed  for  Loudon;  and,  'as  a 
proof  of  his  trewe  and  faitheful  heart  borne  to  his 
4read  sovereign.  Queen  Elizabeth,  he  bequeathed 


insidious  legacy-hunter  and  voluptuary  whom  the 
old  poet  has  painted  in  the  darkest  colours,  lived 
at  this  time  in  a  house  near  Broken  Wharf,  and 
between  Trig  Stairs  and  Queenhithe,  in  Thames 
Street,  an  old  City  palace  which  had  once  belonged 
to  the  Dukes  of  Norfolk.  The  death  of  Sutton's  wife 
seems  to  have  first  led  the  childless  millionaire 
to  project  some  great  and  lasting  work  of  charity. 
He  was  already  surrounded  by  a  swarm  of  carrion- 
crows,  both  from  town  and  citf,  while  a  jackal 


THE  EXTERIOR  OF  THE  HALL,   CHARTERHOUSE. 


Her  Majesty  _;^2,ooo  in  recompense  of  his  over- 
sights, careless  dealinge,  and  fearfulness  in  her 
service,  most  humbly  beseeching  her  to  stand  a 
good  and  gracious  lady  to  his  poor  wife.' "  He  also 
instituted  a  great  many  scholarships  at  Magdalen 
and  Jesus  Colleges,  Cambridge ;  his  generous  will, 
in  fact,  being  one  long  schedule  of  benevolent 
legacies. 

Among  other  curious  bequests  in  the  inter- 
minable will  of  this  great  pliilanthropist,  are  the 
following: — ;^ioo  to  the  fishermen  of  Ostend, 
and  ;^26  13s.  4d.  for  mending  the  highways 
between  Islington  and  Newington,  &c. 

Sutton,  who  by  many  is  thought  to  have  been 
the  original  of  Ben  Jonson's  Volpone,  the  Fox,  that 
81— Vol.  IT. 


pack  of  advisers  followed  untiringly  at  his  heels. 
A  Dr.  Willet  urged  him  to  leave  his  money  to  the 
Controversial  College  at  Chelsea,  a  ridiculous  pro- 
ject encouraged  by  the  king,  or  to  assist  James  I. 
in  bringing  the  water  of  the  river  Lea  to  London, 
by  underground  pipes. 

The  following  passage  in  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hall, 
of  Waltham,  afterwards  the  celebrated  Bishop  of 
Exeter,  served  to  fix  the  old  man's  determination  : 

"  The  very  basest  element  yields  gold.  The  savage  Indian 
gets  it,  the  servile  apprentice  works  it,  the  very  Midianitish 
camel  may  wear  it ;  the  miserable  worldling  admires  it,  the 
covetous  Jew  swallows  it,  the  unthrifty  ruffian  spends  it. 
What  are  all  these  the  better  for  it  ?  Only  good  use  gives 
praise  to  earthly  possessions.  Hearing,  therefore,  you  owe 
more  to  God,  that  He  hath  given  you  an  heart  to  do  "good. 


386 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Charterheuse. 


a  will  to  be  as  rich  in  good  works  as  great  in  riches ;  to  be 
a  friend  to  this  Mammon  is  to  be  an  enemy  to  God ;  but  to 

make  friends  with  it  is  royal  and  Christian 

"Whatever,  therefore,  men  either  shew  or  promise,  happy 
is  that  man  that  may  be  his  own  auditor,  supervisor,  executor. 
As  you  love  God  and  yourself,  be  not  afraid  of  being  happy 
too  soon.  I  am  not  worthy  to  give  so  bold  advice ;  let  the 
wise  man  Syrach  speak  for  me  : — '  Do  good  before  thou 
die,  and  according  to  thine  .ability  stretch  out  thine  hand, 
and  give.  Defraud  not  thyself  of  thy  good  day,  and  let  not 
the  portion  of  thy  good  desires  pass  over  thee.  Shalt  thou 
not  leave  thy  travails  to  another,  and  thy  labours  to  them 
that  will  divide  thy  heritage?'  Or,  let  a  wiser  than  he 
speak,  viz.,  Solomon  : — 'Say  not.  To-morrow  I  will  give,  if 
thou  now  have  it ;  for  thou  knowest  not  what  a  day  will 
bring  forth.'  It  hath  been  an  old  rule  of  liberality,  'He 
gives  twice  who  gives  quickly;'  whereas  slow  benefits  argue 
uncheerfulness,  and  lose  their  worth.  Who  lingers  his  re- 
ceipts is  condemned  as  unthrifty.  He  who  knoweth  both, 
saith,  '  It  is  better  to  give  than  to  receive.'  If  we  are  of  the 
same  spirit,  why  are  we  hasty  in  the  worst,  and  slack  in  the 
better  ?  Suffer  you  yourself,  therefore,  good  sir,  for  God's  sake, 
for  the  Gospel's  sake,  for  the  Church's  sake,  for  your  soul's 
sake,  to  be  stirred  up  by  these  poor  lines  to  a.  resolute  and 
speedy  performing  of  your  worthy  intentions.  And  take 
this  as  a  loving  invitation  sent  from  heaven  by  an  unworthy 
messenger.  You  cannot  deliberate  long  of  fit  objects  for 
your  beneficence,  except  it  be  more  for  multitude  than  want ; 
the  streets,  yea,  the  world  is  full.  How  doth  Lazarus  lie  at 
every  door !  How  many  sons  of  the  prophets,  in  their 
meanly-provided  colleges,  may  say,  not  'Mors  in  oHd,'  but 
'  Fames  I '  How  many  churches  may  justly  plead  that  which 
our  Saviour  bad  his  disciples,  '  The  Lord  hath  need  !'  " 

This  letter  fixed  the  wandering  atoms  of  the  old 
man's  intentions.  He  at  once  determined  to  found 
a  hospital  for  the  maintenance  of  aged  men  past 
work,  and  for  the  education  of  the  children  of  poor 
parents.  He  bought  Charterhouse  of  the  Howards 
for  ^£^13,000,  and  petitioned  King  James  and  tlie 
ParUament  for  leave  and  licence  to  endow  the  pre- 
sent hospital  in  1609.  This  "triple  good,"  as 
Bacon  calls  it — "this  masterpiece  of  Protestant 
English  charity,''  as  it  is  called  by  Fuller,  was 
also  "the  greatest  gift  in  England,  either  in  Pro- 
testant or  Catholic  times,  ever  bestowed  by  any 
individual." 

Letters  patent  for  the  hospital  were  issued 
in  June,  1611.  Sutton  himself  was  to  be  first 
master;  but  "man  proposes,  and  God  disposes." 
On  December  12th  of  the  same  year  Mr.  Sutton 
died  at  his  house  at  Hackney.  His  body  was 
embalmed,  and  was  borne  to  a  vault  in  the 
chapel  of  Christchurch,  followed  by  6,000  per- 
sons. The  procession  of  sable  men  from  Dr. 
Law's  house,  in  Paternoster  Row,  to  Christchurch, 
lasted  six  hours.  There  was  a  sumptuous  funeral 
banquet  afterwards  at  Stationers'  Hall,  which  was 
strewn  with  nine  dozen  bundles  of  rushes,  the  doors 
being  hung  with  black  cloth.     Camden,  as  Claren- 


cieux  King  of  Arms,  was  on  duty  on  the  august    Berwick-upon-Tweed,  and  this  they  reluctantly  gave. 


occasion.     The  sumptuous  funeral  feast  in  Sta- 
tioners' Hall  we  have  already  mentioned. 

But  what  greediness,  envy,  and  hatred  often 
lurk  under  a  mourner's  cloak !  The  first  act  of 
Mr.  Thomas  Baxter,  the  chief  mourner,  at  his. 
cousin's  funeral,  was,  as  heir-at-law,  to  claim  the 
whole  of  the  property,  and  to  attempt  to  forcibly 
take  possession  of  Charterhouse.  The  case  was  at: 
once  tried.  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  Mr.  Gaulter,  and; 
Mr.  Yelverton  appearing  for  the  plaintiff,  and  Mr. 
Hubbard,  Attorney -General,  Mr.  Serjeant  Hutton,. 
and  Mr.  Coventry  arguing  for  the  hospital.  It 
was  then  adjourned  to  the  Exchequer  Chamber^ 
where  it  was  solemnly  argued  by  all  the  judges, 
of  the  land,  except  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the 
King's  Bench,  who  was  indisposed;  and,  by  Sir 
Edward  Coke's  exertions,  a  verdict  was  at  last 
given  for  the  defendants,  the  executors  of  Sutton. 
The  rascally  Baxter  (although  all  impugners  of  the 
will  were  held  by  Sutton  to  forfeit  their  legacies)- 
received  the  manor  of  Turback,  in  Lancashire, 
valued  at  ;^35o  a  year,  a  rectory  worth  ^^loo,  and 
^^300  by  will. 

But  the  old  man's  money  had  still  a  greedy  mouth 
open  for  it.  Bacon,  that  wise  but  timid  man,  that 
mean  courtier  and  false  friend,  was  base  enough  ta 
use  all  his  eloquence  and  learning  to  fritter  away,, 
for  alien  purposes  that  would  please  and  benefit 
the  king,  the  money  so  nobly  left.  Hurt  vanity 
also  induced  Bacon  to  make  these  exertions;  his. 
name  not  having  been  included  in  Sutton's  list  of 
governors.  Bacon's  subtle  letter  opening  the 
question  is  a  sad  instance  of  perverted  talent.  It. 
begins — 

"  May  it  please  your  Majesty, — I  find  it  a  positive  precept 
in  the  old  law  that  there  should  be  no  sacrifice  without  salt ; 
the  moral  whereof  (besides  the  ceremony)  may  be,  that  God 
is  not  pleased  with  the  body  of  a  good  intention,  except  it 
be  seasoned  with  that  spiritual  wisdom  and  judgment  as  it  be: 
not  easily  subject  to  be  corrupted  and  perverted ;  for  salt,  in; 
the  Scripture,  is  both  a  figure  of  wisdom  and  lasting.  This. 
Cometh  into  my  mind  upon  this  act  of  Mr.  Sutton,  which 
seemeth  to  me  as  a  sacrifice  without  salt ;  haying  the; 
materials  of  a  good  intention,  but  not  powdered  with  any 
such  ordinances  and  institutions  as  may  presei-ve  the  same- 
from  turning  cormpt,  or,  at  least  from  becoming  unsavoury 
and  of  little  use.  For  though  the  choice  of  the  feoffees  be  of 
the  best,  yet  neither  can  they  always  live;  and  the  very 
nature  of  the  work  itself,  in  the  vast  and  unfit  proportion! 
thereof,  is  apt  to  provoke  a  misemploy ment." 

King  James,  though  eager  enough  to  lay  his; 
sprawling  hands  on  the  old  man's  money,  which  he 
had  left  to  the  poor  of  London,  hardly  dared  to  gcv 
as  far  as  such  a  confiscation  as  Bacon  had  proposed; 
but  he  dropped  a  polite  hint  to  tho  governors  that 
he  would  accept  ^10,000,  to  repair  the  bridge  of 


The  Charterhouse.] 


SUTTON,   THE   BENEVOLENT. 


387 


In  1 6 14  the  officers  of  the  hospital  were 
appointed,  and  the  Rev.  Andrew  Feme  chosen  as 
nftster.  Sutton's  tomb  in  the  Charterhouse  Chapel 
being  now  completed,  the  corpse  was  carried  there 
by  torchlight  on  the  shoulders  of  his  pensioners 
and  re-interred,  a  funeral  oration  being  pronounced 
over  the  grave. 

Malcolm  gives  the  following  summary  of  the 
property  bequeathed  in  Mr.  Sutton's  will : — He  left 
^12,110  17s.  8d.  in  legacies,  and  nearly  ;^4,ooo 
was  found  in  his  chest.  His  gold  chain  weighed 
fifty-four  ounces,  and  was  valued  at  ;^i62.  His 
damask  gown,  faced  with  wrought  velvet,  and  set 
^ith  buttons,  was  appraised  at  ;^io  ;  his  jewels  at 
^59;  and  his  plate  at  ;^2i8  6s.  4d.  The  total  ex- 
penses of  his  funeral  amounted  to  ^^2,228  ros.  3d., 
and  his  executors  received,  from  the  time  of  his 
•decease  to  1620,  ;!£^4S,r63  9s.  gd. 

At  an  assembly  of  governors  in  1627,  among 
other  resolutions  passed,  it  was  agreed  to  have  an 
annual  commemoration  of  the.  founder  every  12th 
•of  December,  with  solemn  service,  a  sermon  and 
"increase  of  commons,''  as  on  festival  days.  It 
-was  also  decided  that,  except  "  the  present  phy- 
sician, auditor,  and  receiver,"  no  member  of  the 
foundation  or  lodger  in  the  house  should  be  a 
married  man. 

But  the  "hospital  had  still  another  terrible  danger 
to  encounter.  King  James  (who  had  no  more 
notion  of  real  liberty  than  an  African  king), 
at  the  instigation  of  his  infamous  favourite,  Buck- 
ingham, demanded  the  revenues  of  Charterhouse 
to  pay  his  army ;  but  Sir  Edward  Coke,  who  had 
saved  the  charity  before,  stepped  to  the  front,  and 
boldly  repelled  the  king's  aggression.  The  hos- 
pital at  last  reared  its  head  serene  as  a  harbour 
for  poverty,  an  asylum  for  the  vanquished  in  life's 
straggle.  As  an  old  writer  b'eautifuUy  says,  "  The 
imitation  of  things  that  be  evil  doth  for  the  most 
part  exceed  the  example,  but  the  imitation  of  good 
things  doth  most  commonly  come  far  short  of  the 
precedent;  but  this  work  of  charity  hath  exceeded 
any  foundation  that  ever  was  in  the  Christian  world. 
Nay,  the  eye  of  time  itself  did  never  see  the  like. 
The  foundation  of  this  hospital  is  opus  sine  exemp/o." 
A  great  school  had  arisen  in  London,  as  rich 
and  catholic  in  its  charity  as  Christ's  Hospital 
itself. 

The  governors  of  Charterhouse  are  nineteen  in 
number,  inclusive  of  the  master.  The  Queen  and 
the  archbishops  are  always  in  the  list.  The  master 
was  entitled  to  fine  any  poor  brother  4s.  4d.  or 
8s.  8d.  for  any  misdemeanour.  He  was  to  accept 
no  preferment  in  church  or  commonwealth  which 
would  draw  him    from    his  care   of  the  hospital. 


The  physician  was  to  receive  ;!£'2o  a  year,  and 
not  to  exceed  ;^2o  a  year  for  physic  bills.  The 
poor  brethren  were  not  to  exceed  four  score  in 
number,  and  were  required  to  be  either  poor  gen- 
tlemen, old  soldiers,  merchants  decayed  by  piracy 
or  shipwreck,  or  household  servants  of  the  king  or 
queen. 

Heme,  in  his  "Domus  Carthusiana,"  a  small  8vo 
volume  pubHshed  in  1677,  shows  that  the  worid 
had  not  been  kind  to  the  founder's  memory.  Heme, 
in  his  preface,  says :  "Sir  Richard  Baker,  Dr. 
Heylin,  Mr.  Heylin,  and  Mr.  Fuller  say  little  of 
him,  and  that  little  very  full  of  mistakes ;  for  they 
call  him  Richard  Sutton,  and  affirm  he  Hved  a 
bachelor,  and  so  by  his  single  life  had  an  opportu- 
nity to  lay  up  a  heap  of  money,  whereas  his  dear 
wife  is  with  much  honour  and  respect  mentioned 
in  his  will.  Others  give  him  bad  words,  say  he 
was  bom  of  obscure  and  mean  parents,  and  married 
as  inconsiderable  a  wife,  and  died  without  an  heir ; 
but  then,  to  give  some  reason  for  his  wealth  (having 
no  time  nor  desire  to  inquire  into  the  means  of  his 
growing  rich),  to  cut  short  the  business,  they  resolve 
all  into  a  romantic  adventure.  They  say  it  was  all 
got  at  a  lump  by  an  accidental  shipwreck,  which 
the  kind  waves  drove  to  shore,  and  laid  at  his  feet, 
whilst  the  fortunate  Sutton  was  walking  pensively 
upon  the  barren  sands.  They  report  that  in  the 
hulk  coals  were  found,  and  under  them  an  ines- 
timable treasure,  a  great  heap  of  fairy  wealth.  This 
I  fancy  may  go  for  the  fable,  and  his  farming  the 
coal-mines  for  the  moral." 

Percival  Burrell,  the  preacher  of  Sutton's  funeral 
sermon  thus  describes  the  character  of  the  generous 
man: — "He  was,"  said  the  divine,  "a  great  and 
good  builder,  not  so  much  for  his  owne  private  as 
for  the  publicke.  His  treasures  were  not  lavished  in 
raysing  a  towre  to  his  own  name,  or  erecting  stately 
pallaces  for  his  owne  pompe  and  pleasure,  but  the 
sustaining  of  living  temples,  the'  endowing  of  col- 
ledges,  the  enriching  of  corporations,  the  building 
causewayes,  and  repairing  of  high-wayes.  Above 
all,  the  foundation  of  King  James  his  Hospitall,  at 
his  sole  and  proper  charge,  were  the  happy  monu- 
ments of  his  architecture.  Surely  this  was  to  be  a 
Megarensis  in  the  best  sense — that  is,  to  build  for 
ever.  He  did  fulfill  the  letter  of  the  apostle,  in 
building  go/d,  silver,  and  precious  stones;  for  he 
commanded  plate  and  jewels  to  bee  sold  and 
converted  into  money,  for  the  expediting  of  our 
hospitall. 

"  I  shall  not  mention  thousands  conferred  upon 
friends  and  servants,  but  these  legacies  ensuing 
merit  a  lasting  memory : — In  the  renowned  Uni- 
versity of  Camb.,  to  Jesus  CoUedge,  500  markes ; 


388 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Charterhouse, 


to  Magdalen,  500  pound  j  for  the  redemption  of 
prisoners  in  London,  200  pound;  'for  the  en- 
couragement of  merchants,  1,000,  to  bee  lent 
gratis  unto  ten  beginners.  Nor  was  his  charity 
confined  within  these  seas,  but  that  western  Troy, 


stout  Ostend,  shall  receive  100  pound,  for  the  reUef   high  as  heaven." 


of  the  poore,  from  his  fountain.  In  all  these  his 
piety  was  very  laudable ;  for  in  many  of  these  acts 
of  bounty,  his  prime  repose  was  in  the  conscionable 
integrity  of  the  priest,  in  those  places  where  he 
sowed  his  benefits.      Certes,  this  was  to  build  as. 


CHAPTER  XLVIIL 

THE    CHARTERHOUSE— ((r(;«/?«a^^. 

Archdeacon  Hale  on  the  Antiquities  of  the  Charterhouse— Course  of  the  Water  Supply— The  "  Aye  ''—John  Houghton's  Initials— The  Entrances 
— The   Master's   Lodge— Portiaits—Sheldon— Burnet— Mann    and  his  Epitaph— The  Chapel— The  Founder's   Tomb— The   Remains  of 
Norfolk  House— The  Great  Hall  and  Kitchens— Ancient  Monogram— The  Cloisters— The   School— Removal  to  Godalming— Experiences, 
of   Life  at    Charterhouse- Thackeray's  Bed— The   Poor    Brothers— A  Scene   from   "The  Newcomes "—Famous   Poor    JBrothers— The 
Charterhouse  Plays— Famous  Carthusians. 

"  probably  a  small  piece  by  the  wayside,  the  con- 
sideration for  it  being  only  the  rendering  of  a  red 
rose  and  the  saying  a  mass  annually  for  the  sacred 
King  and  Confessor  Edward." 

The  course  by  which  the  water  was  brought 
from  Islington,  across  the  fields,  for  the  supply  of 
the  Charterhouse  is  shown  in  old  vellum  rolls,  on 
which  the  course  passes  the  windmill,  of  which 
the  "  Windmill "  Inn,  in  St.  John  Street,  was  a. 
remnant  and  a  remembrance.  The  neighbouring. 
Hospital  of  St.  John  was,  in  1381,  burnt  by  the 
Essex  and  Kent  rebels,  when  the  fire  lasted  seven, 
days.  The  hospital  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
rebuilt  before  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and. 
possibly  the  ruins  of  St.  John's  supphed  some 
materials.  Amongst  other  interesting  fragments 
was  the  head  of  an  Indian  or  Egyptian  idol,  which 
was  found  imbedded  in  the  mortar  amidst  the 
rubble.  The  connection  of  the  brethren  of  St. 
John  of  Jerusalem  with  the  East  suggests  the  idea, 
that  this  little  figure  might  have  found  its  way  tO' 
the  Charterhouse  from  St.  John's. 

From  a  rough  sketch  accompanying  Archdeacon 
Hale's  paper,  exhibiting  the  course  of  the  con- 
duit as  it  existed  in  1624,  it  appears  that  "the- 
'Aye'  in  the  centre  of  the  quadrangle  occupied 
by  the  monks  had  disappeared,  and  that,  the 
water  was  brought  to  a  reservoir  still  existing 
but  now  supplied  from  the  New  River  instead  of 
from  the  conduit.  No  record  can  be  found  of  the 
time  when  this  exchange  took  place.  The  drawing 
exhibits  in  a  rude  manner  traces  of  buildings  which 
still  exist,  as  well  as  of  those  which  were  taken 
down  for  the  erection  of  the  new  rooms  for  the- 
pensioners  some  forty  years  since.  Three  sides, 
of  a  small  quadrangle,  an  early  addition  to  if  not 
coeval  with  the  building  of  the  monastery,  still 
remain ;  the  windows  and  doorways  give  evidence: 


In  a  monograph  on  the  Charterhouse,  Archdeacon 
Hale,  so  long  holding  the  post  of  master,  entered 
deeply  into  its  antiquities.  "  The  monastery,"  said 
the  archdeacon,  in  the  Transactions  of  the  Lo7idon 
and  Middlesex  ArchcBoIogical  Society  for  October, 
1869,  "originally  consisted  of  a  number  of  cells, 
which,  with  the  chapel,  chapter-house,  sacristan's 
cell,  and  little  cloister,  formed  a  quadrangle,  to 
which  some  other  irregular  buildings  were  attached. 
The  laundry  was  in  the  principal  court ;  and  near 
to  it  was  the  sacristan's  washing-place,  for  washing 
the  sacred  utensils  and  vestments.  The  water- 
pipes  entered  under  the  cells  on  the  north  side  of 
the  quadrangle,  and  the  water  was  received  in  an 
octangular  building,  and  which  is  called  the  '  Aye,' 
the  use  and  derivation  of  which  word  has  not  been 
discovered."  The  water  was  supplied  by  pipes 
running  at  the  back  of  the  cells,  and  the  "  lavoirs  " 
were  probably  washing-places.  The  brewhouse  is 
not  shown  in  the  old  plan ;  its  water-supply  is  only 
marked,  and  "the  buttery-cock  is  shown  without 
any  building  attached  to  it,  whilst  the  water  is 
described  as  passing  on  in  two  courses  to  the  flesh- 
kitchen,  one  through  the  cloister,  another  through 
the  gateway  from  the  cistern  at  the  kitchen-door, 
with  a  branch  to  a  place  or  house  called  Elmys 
and  the  Hartes-Horne.  We  thus  find  two  kitchens 
mentioned;  the  first  denoted  by  the  kitchen- 
door,  and  the  remains  of  the  second  kitchen  are 
to  be  found  in  the  wall  next  the  present  gateway 
of  the  Charterhouse,  formed  of  squares  of  flint 
and  stone.  The  gateway  of  the  old  plan  appears 
disconnected  with  the  rest  of  the  buildings,  but  it 
still  exists."  We  have  also  the  interesting  fact,  dis- 
covered by  the  diligence  of  Mr.  Burtt,  of  the 
Record  Office,  that  the  Abbot  of  Westminster 
granted  to  the  Prior  and  Convent  of  the  Charter- 
house three  acres  of  land   ("  No  Man's  Land ") 


'The  Charterhouse.] 


THE   CHARTERHOUSE. 


389 


•of  great  variety  of  structure  and  of  date,  and  the 
joints  of  the  brickwork  proofs  of  many  alterations. 
There  are  letters  on  the  west  external  wall,  '  J.  H.,' 
>which  we  would  willingly  assume  to  be  the  initials 
<of  John  Houghton,  the  last  prior  but  one,  and  the 
wall  itself  as  of  his   building.      The  cells  of  the 
monks,  which  were  in  the  quadrangle,  in  the  centre 
•of  which  the  conduit  stood,  have  been  all  destroyed, 
>with  the   exception  of  some    few  doorways   still 
jemaining.     The  buildings  of  the  monastery  now 
existing  are  on  the  south  side  of  that  quadrangle  : 
they  include  the  chapel,  the  small  quadrangle  above 
mentioned,  and  the  courts  of  Howard  House,  in- 
cluding the-  Great  Hall  and  the  court  called  the 
Master's   Court.      At  what  time  these  buildings 
were  erected   between,   the  ancient  flesh-kitchen, 
ithe  small  quadrangle  to  the  west,  and  the  prior's 
lodgings  on  the  north,  has  not  been  discovered. 
They  were  doubtless   for  the  accommodation  of 
strangers  who  resorted  to  and  were  received    at 
the  monastery.      It  has  been  said  that  much  in- 
formation respecting   the  temper  and  feelings  of 
Ithe  people  was  obtained  by  Henry  VII.  from  the 
iknowledge  which  the  Carthusian  monks  acquired 
tthrough  intercourse   thus   kept    up   with    various 
classes." 

Charterhouse  Square  has  three  entrances — Car- 
rthusian  Street,  Charterhouse  Lane,  and  Charter- 
house Street.  The  two  first  had  originally  each  a 
igatehouse,  and  in  Charterhouse  Lane,  where  it  stood 
there  is  a  gate  of  iron  surmounted  by  the  arms  of 
ithe  hospital — arms  that  have  never  been  blazoned 
■with  blood,  but  have  been  ever  irradiated  with  a 
lalo  of  beneficence  and  charity.  Charterhouse 
Square  is  supposed  to  have  been  part  of  the 
Iground  first  consecrated  by  Bishop  Stratford,  as  a 
iplace  of  charitable  burial.  A  town  house  belonging 
to  the  Earls  of  Rutland  once  adorned  it,  and  in 
this  mansion  Sir  William  Davenant,  wishing  to  win 
the  gloom-struck  I-ondoners  from  their  Puritan 
severities,  opened  a  sort  of  opera-house  in  1656. 
Rutland  Place,  a  court  at  the  north-east  corner  of  the 
square,  still  marks  the  spot,  at  the  sight  of  which 
Cavaliers  grew  gayer,  and  Puritans  sourer  and  more 
morose.  A  pleasant  avenue  of  light-leaved  limes 
traverses  the  square,  for  Charterliouse  masters  to 
,pice  under  and  archaeologists  to  ponder  beneath. 

As  we  enter  Charterhouse  Square  from  Car- 
thusian Street,  the  entrance  to  the  old  hospital  is 
on  the  north  side.  The  gateway  is  the  original 
entrance  of  the  monastery,  and  has  been  rubbed 
iby  many  a  monk's  gown.  This  interesting  relic  is 
•a  Tudor  arch,  with  a  drip-stone,  terminating  in  plain 
■corbels.  Above  is  a  shelf,  supported  by  two  lions, 
•grotesquely  carved,  and  probably  dating  back  to 


the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century.  On  the 
right  stands  the  porter's  lodge,  on  the  left  the  house 
of  the  resident  medical  officer. 

Fron  the  entrance  court  are  two  exits.     The 
road  straight  from  the  entrance  leads  to  the  quad- 
rangles, the  schoolmaster's  house,  "  the  Gown  Boys," 
and  the  preacher's  residences ;  the  left  road  points 
to  the  master's  lodge,  the  hall,  and  the  chapel.    In 
the  latter,  turning  under  an  archway  leading  to  the 
head-master's  court,  is  the  entrance  to  the  master's 
lodge.     The  fine  hall  of  the  lodge  is  adorned  by 
a  good  portrait  of  the  maligned  but  beneficent 
Sutton.     In  the  noble  upper  rooms  are  some  ex- 
cellent portraits  of  illustrious  past  governors — men 
of  all  sects  and  of  various  fortunes.     Prominent 
among  these  we  note  the  following  :— Black-browed, 
saturnine  Charles  II.,  and  his  restless  favourite, 
George  Villiers,  second  Duke  of  Buckingham ;  the 
Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  their  dangerous  Whig  rival, 
and  Charles  Talbot,  first  Earl  and  afterwards  Duke 
of  Shrewsbury— a  florid  full-length,  in  robes  of  the 
Garter  (the   white   rod  the    earl   carries  was  de- 
livered to  him  in  17 14,  by  Queen  Anne,  with  her 
dying  hand) ;  the  ill-starred  Duke  of  Monmouth, 
swarthy,  like  his  father,  in  a  long  black  wig,  and  in 
the  robes  of  the  Garter,  and  the  charitable  Sheldon, 
Archbishop   of  Canterbury,  who  is  said  to  have 
expended  more  than  ;^66,ooo  in  public  and  private 
almsgiving,  in  relieving  the  sufferers  by  the  Great 
Plague,  and  in  redeeming  Christian  slaves  from  the 
Moors.    The  theatre  Sheldon  built  at  Oxford  was  a 
mark  of  his  respect  to  the  university,  and  a  grate- 
ful remembrance  of  his  time  studiously  spent  as 
warden  of  the  college  of  All  Souls.     There  is  also 
in  an  upper  room  a  fine  three-quarter  length  of 
the  clever  and  learned  but  somewhat  Darwinian 
divine,    Dr.    Thomas    Burnet,   who   was   elected 
Master  of  Charterhouse  in  1685  ;  he  was  the  author 
of  the  "Sacred  Theory  of  the  Earth,"  a  daring 
philosophical    romance,   which    barred    the    rash 
writer's  further  preferment.      As   master,    Burnet 
boldly  resisted  the  intrusion  of  Andrew  Popham,  a 
Roman  Catholic,  into  the  house,  by  meddling  James 
I.    "  Soon  after  Burnet's  election,"  says  Mr.  Timbs, 
"James  II.  addressed  a  letter  to  the   governors, 
ordering  them  to  admit  one  Andrew  Popham  as 
pensioner  into  the  hospital,  upon  the  first  vacancy, 
without  tendering  to  him  any  oath,  or  requiring 
of  him  any  subscription   or  recognition  in  con^ 
formity   with   Church   of    England   doctrine,   the 
king  dispensing  with  any  statute  or  order  of  the 
hospital  to  the  contrary.    Burnet,  as  junior  governor, 
was  called  upon  to  vote  first,  when  he  maintained 
that,  by  express  Act  of  Parliament,  3  Car.  I.,  no 
officer  could  be  admitted  into  that  hospital  without 


39° 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[The  Charterhouse. 


taking  the  oaths  of  allegiance  and  supremacy.  An 
attempt  was  made,  but  without  effect,  to  overrule 
this  opinion.  The  Duke  of  Ormond  supported 
:Burnet,  and,  on  the  vote  being  put,  Popham  was 
rejected;  and,  notwithstanding  the  threats  of  the 
king  and  the  Popish  party,  no  member  of  the  com- 
munion was  ever  admitted  into  the  Charterhouse." 
This  eccentric  man — no  relation  of  the  great  Whig 
friend  of  William  of  Orange— died  in  1715.  He 
appears  here  as  a  well-favoured  man,  in  a  black 
gown,  and  with  short  hair. 


English  means,  "  Here  lies  one  who  formerly 
dusted  boys'  jackets,  and  is  now  dust  himself." 
In  the  small  square  ante-chapel  is  a  modem  screen, 
surmounted  by  the  royal  arms  and  those  of  the- 
founder,  Sutton.  This  ante-chapel  is  vaulted  and, 
groined  ;  the  bosses  that  bind  the  ribs  being  orna- 
mented with  roses,  foliage,  and  shields,  charged, 
with  the  instruments  of  the  Passion.  The  font  is 
modern,  and  of  the  most  Pagan  period,  contrasting- 
painfully  with  the  perpendicular  of  the  ante-chapel, 
which  bears  the  date  1512.      The  equilateral  arch. 


CHARTERHOUSE — THE  QUADRANGLE.     {From  a  Vicw  taken  in  1.%0'^.') 


An  arched  passage  on  the  left  of  the  master's 
court  leads  to  Washhouse  Court.  A  porch,  sur- 
mounted by  the  royal  arms,  brings  you  to  the  great 
hall  and  kitchen,  and  a  passage  on  the  right  con- 
ducts you  to  Chapel  Court,  which  is  surrounded  by 
buildings  to  the  south  and  west,  by  a  piazza  on  the 
north,  and  by  the  chapel  on  the  east.  The  chapel 
cloister  consists  of  six  Italian  semi-classic  arches, 
dull,  clumsy,  and  exactly  unsuited  to  the  purpose 
of  the  place.  Among  the  gravestones  are  those 
of  a  past  organist,  Richard  John  Samuel  Stevens 
(1757),  and  Samuel  Berdmore,  master  (1802).  A 
door  at  the  east  end,  leading  to  the  ante-chapel, 
has  over  it  a  small  tablet  to  Nicholas  Mann, 
"  Olim  magister,  nunc  remistus  pulvere,"  which  in 


at  the  east  end,  leading  to  the  main  chapel,  is  con- 
jectured by  the  best  authorities  to  have  been  the- 
nave-arch  of  the  original  monastic  church.  It  is.- 
filled  up  with  a  carved  wooden  screen,  consisting 
of  a  series  of  pointed  cinque-foiled  arches. 

The  chapel  is  a  thorough  Jacobean  structure, 
with  the  founder's  tomb  conspicuous  in  a  proud' 
position  at  the  north-west  corner,  the  rows  of  seats, 
where  the  Charterhouse  boys  once  sat  with  ill-con- 
cealed restlessness,  and  the  pews  of  the  old  brother- 
hood arranged  gravely  by  themselves.  The  present 
chancel,  say  the  antiquarians,  is  part  of  the  original 
nave.  It  is  square,  divided  in  the  centre  by  two 
Tuscan  pillais.  An  aisle  (or,  rather, ■  recess)  was- 
added  to  the  north  side  in  1826,  and  there  is  a. 


The  Charterhouse.] 


THE  BUILDINGS. 


391 


392 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


.    [The  Charterhouse.\ 


tower  at  the  east  end  parallel  with  the  ante-chapel. 
"The  south  wall  alone  is  part  of  the  original 
church ;  and  it  is  supposed  that  the  choir  extended 
some  way  to  the  east  beyond  the  present  chapel." 
Behind  a  panel  in  the  east  wall  the  visitor  is  shown 
an  aumbrye  (cupboard),  with  some  crumbling  stone- 
work round  it.  "The  pillars  which  divide  the 
chapel  in  the  centre  support  three  semicircular 
irches,  the  keystones  of  which  are  embellished  with 
the  Charterhouse  arms.  The  roof  is  flat,  ceiled,  and 
decorated  after  the  style  of  the  time  of  James  I.  'At 
:he  west  end,  under  the  tower,  is  an  open  screen  of 
ivood,  carved  in  a  style  corresponding  with  the 
late  of  the  rest  of  the  chapel.  This  supports  a 
gallery  containing  the  organ.  Its  principal  orna- 
nents  are  grotesque,  puffy-faced  cherubim,  helmets 
ind  swords,  drums,  and  instruments  of  music ;  and 
n  the  centre  is  a  shield,  tied  up  with  a  thick  cable 
;harged  with  the  arms  of  the  hospital.  The  altar 
s  of  wood,  and  on  each  side  in  the  corner  of  the 
;hancel  is  a  sort  of  stall,  the  one  on  the  right 
jeing  appropriated  to  the  head-master,  and  that  on 
:he  left  to  the  second-master  of  the  school." 

The  east  window  of  five  lights,  filled  with  painted 
jlass  (the  subject  the  Divine  Passion),  is  the  gift 
)f  the  Venerable  Archdeacon  Hale,  when  master 
)f  the  house.  Another  east  window,  represent- 
ng  the  Bearing  of  the  Cross,  was  the  result  of  a 
lubscription  among  the  boys  themselves.  In  a 
;outhern  window  are  some  fragments  of  glass  re- 
)resenting  the  Charterhouse  arms.  "  The  pulpit  and 
eading-desk,"  says  the  chronicler  of  the  Charter- 
louse,  "  are  against  the  south  wall,  as  also  are  the 
naster's  and  preacher's  pews  ;  the  latter  have  small 
;anopies  over  the  seats  allotted  to  them.  The  seats 
or  the  pensioners  are  open,  and  have  at  the  side 
)oppy-heads  in  the  shape  of  greyhounds'  heads, 
;ouped,  ermine,  collared  gules,  garnished  and  ringed, 
>r,  on  the  collar  three  annulets  of  the  last,  the 
:rest  of  the  hospital."  The  scholars  formerly  sat 
a  the  recess  to  the  north. 

"  The  founder's  tomb  on  the  north  side  of  the 
;hancel  is  a  most  superb  specimen  of  the  monu- 
nental  taste  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  It  is 
lomposed  of  the  most  valuable  marbles,  highly 
;arved  and  gilt,  and  contains  a  great  number  of 
[uaint  figures,  of  which  the  founder  is  the  principal, 
lis  painted  figure,  in  a  gown,  lies  recumbent  on 
he  tomb.  On  each  side  is  a  man  in  armour, 
tanding  upright,  supporting  a  tablet  containing  the 
tiscription,  and  above  is  a  preacher  addressing  a 
ill  congregation.  The  arms  of  the  hospital  are  to 
le  seen  still  higher,  and  above  all  a  statue  of 
'harity.  It  is  also  enriched  with  statues  of  Faith 
nd  Hope,  Labour  and  Rest,  and  Plenty  and  Want, 


and  is  surrounded  by  painted  iron  railings.     The 
inscription  is  as  follows  : — 

"  Sacred  to  the  glory  of  God,  in  grateful  memory  of  Thomas 
Sutton,  Esquire.  Here  lieth  buried  the  body  of  Thomas 
Sutton,  late  of  Gastle-Camps,  in  the  county  of  Cambridge, 
Esquire,  at  whose  only  costs  and  charges  this  hospital  was 
founded  and  endowed  with  large  possessions  for  the  relief 
of  poor  men  and  children.  He  was  a  gentleman,  bom  at 
Knaythe,  in  the  county  of  Lincoln,  of  worthie  and  honest 
parentage.  He  lived  to  the  age  of  seventy-nine  years,  and 
deceased  the  I2th  of  December,  1611."    . 

This  sumptuous  tomb,  still  so  perfect,  cost 
£366  153. 

"  In  the  return  of  the  wall,  opposite  the  founder's 
tomb,  is  a  small  monument  to  the  memory  of 
Francis  Beaumont,  Esq.,  formerly  master  of  the 
hospital.  He  is  represented  kneeling  before  a 
desk,  his  hand  resting  on  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and 
habited  in  the  costume  of  the  period. 

"  The  other  monuments  in  the  chapel  are  for 
the  most  part  tasteless  and  inelegant;  there  are, 
however,  a  few  exceptions.  On  the  south  wall  is  a 
full-sized  figure  of  Edward,  Lord  Ellenborough,  by 
Chantrey.  He  is  represented  sitting,  in  his  robes 
as  Chief  Justice,  with  the  following  legend  : — 

"In  the  Founder's  vault  are  deposited  the  remains  of 
Edward  Law,  Lord  Ellenborough,  son  of  Edmund  Law, 
Lord  Bishop  of  Carlisle,  Chief  Justice  of  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench  from  April,  1802,  to  November,  1818,  and  a  Governor 
of  the  Charterhouse.  He  died  December  13th,  1818,  in  the 
sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age  ;  and,  in  grateful  remembrance  of 
the  advantages  he  had  derived  through  life  from  his  education 
upon  the  Foundation  of  the  Charterhouse,  desired  to  be 
buried  in  this  church." 

The  chapel  contains  monuments  to  Matthew 
Raine,  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  the  Charter- 
house masters;  John  Law,  one  of  the  founder's 
executors;  Dr.  Patrick,  preacher  to  the  house, 
who  died  in  1695  ;  Andrew  Tooke,  master  1731; 
Thomas  Walker,  1728;  Dr.  H.  Levett,  physician 
to  the  hospital  in  1725  ;  John  Christopher  Pepusch, 
organist  to  the  house,  and  friend  of  Handel.  In 
the  Evidence  Room  behind  the  organ,  in  which  the 
hospital  records  are  kept,  there  are  three  doors,  the 
three  keys  being  kept  by  the  master,  the  registrar, 
and  one  of  the  governors.  A  small  door  on  the 
right  of  the  cloisters  communicates  with  a  spiral 
staircase  leading  to  the  roof  of  the  tower. 

"  The  tower,"  says  Carthusian,  "  is  square,  and 
is  surmounted  by  a  heavy  Italian  parapet,  with  a 
thing  in  the  shape  of  a  pinnacle  at  each  angle. 
The  whole  is  crowned  with  a  wooden  dome  resting 
on  pillars  supporting  semicircular  arches.  The 
dome  carries  on  its  top  a  vane  representing  the 
Charterhouse  arms.  Under  this  cupola  is  a  bell, 
which  bears  the  following  legend : — 
"  T.  S.  Bartlet   for  the  Charterhouse  made  this  bell,  1631." 


The  Charterhouse.] 


INTERIOR   OF   THE   CHARTERHOUSE. 


393 


In  a  vault  beneath  the  chapel  is  the,  leaden  coffin 
of  Sutton,  an  Egyptian  shaped  case,  with  the  date, 
1611,  in  large  letters  on  the  breast,  the  face  of  the 
dead  man  being  modelled  with  a  square  beard-case. 

A  small  paved  hall  leading  from  the  cloister  is 
the  approach  to  the  great  oak  staircase  of  old 
Norfolk  House,  richly  carved  with  shallow  Eliza- 
bethan trophies  and  ornaments,  the  Sutton  crest, 
a  greyhound's  head,  showing  conspicuously  on  the 
posts,  probably  additions  to  the  original  staircase, 
which  is  six  feet  wide,  and  consists  of  twenty-one 
steps.  A  large  window  midway  looks  into  the 
master's  court.  The  apartments  of  the  reader  are 
at  the  top  of  the  staircase,  on  the  right,  and  on 
the  left  an  ante-chamber  conducts  to  the  terrace — 
a  grand  walk,  eighty  yards  long,  which  commands 
a  view  of  the  green.  Beyond  this  terrace,  to  the 
north,  rises  the  great  window  of  the  chapel  of  the 
new  Merchant  Taylors'  School.  The  library,  near 
"  the  terrace,  is  a  grave-looking  room,  containing  a 
selection  of  divinity  and  old  Jesuit  books  of  travel, 
&c.,  given  by  Daniel  Wray,  Esq.,  whose  portrait 
hangs  over  the  fireplace. 

The  governors'  room,  part  of  old  Norfolk  House, 
which  is  next  the  library,  is  remarkable  for  its 
Elizabethan  decorations,  which  are  of  the  most 
magnificent  description.  "  The  ceiling,"  says  Car- 
thusian, "is  flat,  and  is  adorned  with  the  armo- 
rial distinctions  (three  white  lions)  of  Thomas, 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  brilliantly  painted  and  gilt.  His 
motto,  'Sola  virtus  invicta,'  is  inscribed  on  orna- 
mental scrolls,  tastefully  arranged  alternately  with 
the  date  of  the  year  (1838)  in  which  this  remnant 
of  Elizabethan  splendour  was  rescued  from  ruin. 
Previous  to  that  time  the  emblazoned  shields, 
which  now  glitter  so  brightly  in  gold  and  silver, 
were  well-nigh  obliterated  with  whitewash.  The 
figures  in  the  tapestry  then  presented  a  motley 
mixture  of  indistinguishable  objects ;  half  of  the 
beautifully-carved  cornice  which  now  supports  the 
ceiling  had  vanished.  The  paintings  of  the  ceiUng 
consist  of  the  following : — In  the  intercolumniations 
of  the  four  pillars  which  form  the  basement  are 
arabesque  shields,  containing  paintings  of  Mars 
and  Minerva,  and  over  the  space  for  the  stove, 
representations  of  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity. 
Above  this  is  a  shield,  charged  with  Mr.  Sutton's 
arms,  with  his  initials,  T.  S.,  one  on  each  side.  A 
large  oval,  containing  the  royal  arms,  supports 
this,  with  the  emblems  of  the  four  evangelists  in 
the  spandrils  formed  by  the  square  panel,  of  which 
it  is  the  centre.  On  each  side  is  an  arch,  sup- 
ported by  Ionic  pillars,  upon  which  are  ovals,  in 
which  are  portraits  of  the  twelve  apostles.  The 
colours  used  are  black,  red,  and  gold.  In  this  room 


there  are  four  square-headed  windows,  of  five,  four, 
and  two  lights,  transomed. 

"The  tapestry  on  the  walls  consist  of  six 
pieces — three  of  large  dimensions,  the  subjects  of 
which  are  not  known,  though  many  conjectures 
have  been  hazarded.  The  largest  piece  represents 
a  king,  sitting  enthroned,  crowned,  and  sceptred-; 
behind  him  is  a  woman  in  plain  attire,  whilst  at  his 
feet  kneels  a  queen,  who  is  followed  by  a  retinue, 
consisting  of  two  black  men,  carrying  a  cushion, 
upon  which  rests  a  model  of  a  fortress,  another 
bearing  the  key  of  this  citadel,  and  other  attendants. 
This  has  been  taken  for  the  siege  of  Calais,  and 
also  the  siege  of  Troy.  The  last  supposition  is,  that 
it  is  a  representation  of  the  visit  of  the  Queen  of 
Sheba  to  Solomon.  A  second  piece  has  been  sup- 
posed to  represent  David,  armed  by  Saul,  in  the 
act  of  sallying  forth  to  meet  'the  uncircumcised 
Philistine.'  Two  armies  are  seen  in  the  back- 
ground. Another  appears  to  be  a  mixture  of 
Scriptural  subjects.  A  scene  in  the  foreground 
does  not  much  differ  from  the  account  of  Deborah 
with  Sisera's  head,  whilst  the  death  of  Abimelech  is 
depicted  behind.  Three  other  pieces,  containing 
figures  of  men,  some  of  which  are  crowned,  all 
which  bear  a  striking  resemblance  the  one  to  the 
other,  seem  intended  for  the  judges  and  kings  of 
Israel.  Similar  illustrations  are  not  unfrequently 
found  in  ancient  Bibles. " 

Descending  the  great  staircase  we  enter  the 
great  hall,  the  most  ancient  of  the  buildings  dating 
subsequent  to  the  Reformation,  the  west  wall  being 
part  of  the  old  convent.  This  wall,  the  local  anti- 
quaries think,  was  rebuilt  by  Sir  Edward  North. 
The  unfortunate  Duke  of  Norfolk,  it  is  suppsed, 
lifted  the  roof  of  the  hall  higher,  to  make  room  for 
a  new  music-gallery.  Its  date,  1571,  marks  the 
time  when  he  was  released  from  the  Tower  on  a 
kind  of  furlough,  and  employed  himself  here  on 
such  improvements  as  this.  The  carving  is  exe- 
cuted with  extreme  care  arid  finish.  A  small  side- 
gallery  leads  to  the  great  staircase.  The  room  is 
lighted  by  three  large  windows  with  some  stained 
glass,  and  there  is  a  lantern  in  the  roof. 

"  In  the  windows  are  some  curious  fragments  oT 
stained  glass.  One  pane  contains  the  arms  of  the 
Lord  Protector,  Duke  of  Somerset,  encircled  by 
the  garter ;  another  contains  a  collection  of  pieces, 
the  subject  of  which  is  rather  ambiguous,  the  chief 
objects  being  a  woman  walking  over  a  bridge,  two 
horsemen  galloping  through  the  water  underneath, 
a  ship,  the  crown  of  Spain,  the  arms  of  Castile  and 
Arragon,  and  the  date,  1670.  A  third  pane  dis- 
plays the  arms  of  the  founder,  Sutton. 

"The  chimney-piece  was  an  addition  by   Mr. 


394 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Charterhouse. 


Sutton,  and  is  of  later  date  than  any  other  part 
of  the  building.  It  is  carved  in  stone,  but  is  of 
grotesque  design,  consisting  of  imaginary  scrolls  in 
the  style  of  the  Renaissance  school..  The  arms 
of  the  foupder,  surmounted  by  helmet,  mantlings, 
and  crest,  complete,  are  well  executed ;  as  also  are 
two  small  pieces  of  ordnance  on  each  side,  which 
are  boldly  yet  accurately  wrought.  Beneath  these, 
and  in  the  centre  above  the  space  allotted  to  the 
stove,  is  an  oval,  upon  which  is  carved  a  dragon, 
or  some  fabulous  monster.  It  is  now,"  adds  Car- 
thusian (1847),  "very  much  mutilated. 

"  One  thing  yet  remains  to  be  spoken  of,  and  that 
is  the  noble  portrait  of  Mr.  Sutton  at  the  upper  end 
of  the  hall.  He  is  represented  dressed  in  a  black 
gown,  sitting  in  an  antique  high-backed  chair,  and 
holding  in  his  right  hand  the  ground-plan  of  the 

Charterhouse The  room  is  now  used 

as  a  dining-hall  for  the  pensioners,  and  the  ban- 
quet is  held  here  on  the  ever-memorable  T2th  of 
December." 

A  door  on  the  right  opens  into  the  upper  hall,  a 
small,  low  room,  adorned  by  a  carved  stone  chimney- 
piece,  with  the  founder's  arms  sculptured  above. 
The  windows  are  square-headed.  It  is  tradition- 
ally supposed  to  be  the  former  refectory  of  the  lay 
brothers  of  the  monastery.  It  was  latterly  used  as 
a  dining-hall  for  the  foundation  scholars.  A  massive 
door  at  one  corner  opens  into  the  cloister. 

A  door  in  the  Great  Hall,  under  the  music-gallery, 
opens  into  a  stone  passage,  on  the  right  of  which 
were  the  apartments  of  the-  manciple.  On  the  left 
there  is  an  opening  into  the  Master's  Court,  and  in 
the  centre  are  three  doorways  with  depressed  square- 
headed  Tudor  arches,  the  spandrils  being  filled 
with  roses,  foliage,  and  angels  bearing  shields. 

The  great  kitchen  boasts  a  fireplace,  at  which 
fifteen  sirloins  could  be  roasted  at  the  same  time. 
In  one  of  the  stones  of  the  pavement  there  are 
brass  rivets  remaining,  which  once  fastened  down 
the  moaumental  brass  of  some  Carthusian. 

Returning  through  the  Master's  Court  and  the  en- 
trance court,  on  our  way  to  the  "  Gown  Boys ''  and 
the  green,  we  pass  a  gateway,  older  than  the  outer 
one  already  described.  It  has  a  four-centred  arch, 
but  no  mouldings  or  drip-stone.  The  wall  built 
over  it  for  some  height  terminates  in  a  horizontal 
parapet,  supported  by  a  plain  corbel  table.  The 
rough  unhewn  stone  of  a  wall  to  the  right  proves 
it,  according  to  antiquaries,  to  have  been  part  of 
the  old  monastic  building.  "  The  letters  '  I.  H.,' 
says  Carthusian  (1847),  "with  a  cross  of  Calvary, 
which  are  worked  into  the  wall,  prove  the  eccle- 
siastical character  of  its  former  inmates.  The 
letters   'I.  H.,'  worked  out  in  red  brick  on  the 


wall,  have  been  a  matter  of  some  discussion. 
Some  have  supposed  them  to  be  the  two  first 
letters  of  our  Saviour's  monogram,  but,  upon 
close  examination,  it  will  be  found"  that  there  are 
no  traces  of  the  final  S.  The  arch  beneath,  over 
which  is  the  cross  of  Calvary,  must  have  had  its 
meaning.-  It  has  been  suggested  that  it  is  the 
entrance  to  a  burial  crypt,  and  that  the  letters 
'I.  H.'  are  the  initials  of  the  -unfortunate  Prior 
Houghton,  interred  in  the  vault  beneath.  A  door- 
way on  the  right  opens  into  the  Abbot's  Court. 
This  was  called,  at  the  period  when  Charter-house 
was  known  as  Howard  House,  by  the  name  of  the 
Kitchen  Court.  Subsequently  it  obtained  the  name 
of  the  Washhouse  Court,  and  this  was  changed, 
some  time  since,  for  Poplar  Court,  on  account  of 
some  poplar-trees  which  formerly  grew  there,  but 
which  so  inconvenienced  the  buildings  that  they 
were  removed  a  few  years  since.  The  name  dis- 
appeared with  them,  and  the  court  is  now  called 
by  its  former  incorrect  cognomen."  This  is  the 
most  solitary  and  the  most  ancient  of  all  the 
Charterhouse  courts.  In  one  comer  half  an  arch 
can  be  distinguished,  and  the  square-headed  win- 
dows are  older  than  they  seem. 

The  Preacher's  Court,  with  its  castellated  and 
turreted  modern  buildings,  was  built  in  1825,  after 
the  designs  of  Edward  Blore,  Esq.  The  preacher's 
residence  was  on  the  east  side.  One  of  the  octan- 
gular turrets  over  the  northern  gateway  of  this  court 
holds  the  bell,  which  rings  regularly  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  before  the  pensioners'  meals,  to  call  home  the 
loiterers.  Some  of  the  poor  brethren  lodge  on  the 
west  side.  On  the  south  and  east  sides  runs  a 
paved  cloister,  and  at  the  south-east  angle  is  the 
large  west  window  of  the  governor's  room,  above 
which  five  shields  are  carved  m  stone.  The 
northern  gateway  is  a  depressed  Tudor  arch,  with 
spandrils  filled  with  the  Charterhouse  arms. 

The  Pensioner's  Court,  also  built  in  1825,  has 
three  gateways,  but  no  cloister  or  octangular  tower. 
The  one  gateway  opens  into  the  stable-yard  and 
servants'  quarter,  the  second  into  the  burial-ground, 
the  third  into  the  Scholars'  Court.  In  this  last,  at 
the  north-east  angle,  the  head-master  used  to 
reside,  while  the  matron  favoured  a  house  to  the 
north,  and  the  gown  boys'  butler  sheltered  himself 
cozily  at  the  south-east  corner  lodge.  The  stones 
round  the  semicircular  arch,  on  the  east  side,  are 
thickly  engraved  with  the  names  of  scholars  once 
on  the  foundation,  and  the  date  of  their  departure. 

The  foundation  boys'  school-rooms  were,  for 
some  exquisite  reason,  called  "Gown  Boys,"  and 
consisted  of  a  hall  and  a  writing-school.  The  hall 
boasts  an  Elizabethan  stone  chimney-piece,  and  the 


The  Charterhouse.] 


SOME  CHARTERHOUSE   IDIOSYNCRACIES. 


ceiling  is  adorned  with  arabesque  shields  and 
scrolls..  The  scholars  used  to  have  all  their  meals 
but  dinners  here,  and  it  was  also  a  sitting-room 
for  tlie  "  Uppers."  The  writing-school  opposite  is 
a  square  room,  and  part  of  the  old  school.  The 
roof  is  upheld  by  four  massive  wooden  pillars,  and 
is  ornamented  with  nine  shields,  and  charged  with 
the  armorial  bearings  of  the  founder,  the  former 
governors,  and  benefactors. 

Part  of  the  cloister  of  the  old  monastery,  which 
led  to  the  fives-court  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's 
palace,  runs  along  the  west  side  of  the  green,  and 
above  it  is  a  terrace  of  old  Norfolk  House.  This 
cloister  formerly  adjoined  the  monks'  cells,  as  an 
ancient  doorway  still  proves.  The  brick  wall  to 
the  east  bears  the  date  1571,  the  date  of  the  music- 
gallery  in  the  Great  Hall,  and  the  date  of  the 
duke's  final  imprisonment.  The  present  cloister  win- 
dows are  mere  square  openings,  and  there  seems 
to  have  formerly  been  a  false  flat  roof.  In  the 
centre  of  the  cloisters  is  an  octagonal  abutment, 
which  has  for  generations  been  called  by  the  boys 
"Middle  Briars."  The  cloisters  used  to  be  the 
great  resort  of  the  football  and  hockey  players, 
especially  in  bad  weather.  The  Upper  Green  is 
three  acres  of  fine  grass-plot,  formerly  the  special 
property  of  the  "  Unders,"  and  bounded  on  the 
north  by  Wilderness  Row,  on  the  east  by  Goswell 
Street,  on  the  south  by  the  school  and  Upper 
Green,  and  on  the  west  by  the  master's  garden, 
where  there  was  a  fountain,  in  a  stone  basin,  in 
the  centre  of  the  lawn,  which  was  divided  by  iron 
railings  from  the  burial-ground  of  the  poor  brethren. 
Dr.  Hulme,  physician  to  Charterhouse,  who 
died  from  a  fall  down-stairs,  in  1808,  was  interred 
here. 

The  School  is  a  large  brick  building,  on  a 
small  hUl,  which  separates  the  two  greens,  and  is 
supposed  to  have  been  built  over  the  northern 
side  of  the  old  cloisters.  It  was  built  from  designs 
by  Mr.  Pilkington,  in  1803.  The  large  door  in 
the  centre  is  surrounded,  like  that  of  the  old 
school,  with  the  names  of  bygone  Carthusians. 
The  head-master  used  to  preside,  at  prayers,  on  a 
large  seat,  elevated  on  three  steps,  and  regally  sur- 
mounted by  a  canopy.  There  were  five  lesser 
thrones  for  the  ushers  and  assistant-masters,  with 
horseshoe  seats  before  each,  capable  of  seating 
sixteen  boys.  Six  large  windows,  and  a  central 
octagonal  lantern  lit  the  room.  At  the  east  and 
west  ends  there  were  small  retiring-rooms— Uttle 
tusculums  for  masters  and  their  classes.  Behind 
the  head-master's  desk  was  another  room.  On  the 
outer  keystone  of  the  arch  the  names  of  several 
of  the  head-masters  were  engraved — Crusins,  17 19; 


395 

Hotchkis,   1720;  Berdmore,   1755;  Raine,  1778; 
Russell,  1803  ;  Saunders,  1819. 

On  ground  given  by  the  governors  of  Charter- 
house St.  Thomas's  Church  and  Schools  were  built, 
some  years  ago.  The  entrance  to  the  school  is  in 
Goswell  Street. 

The  Upper  Green  was  the  cricket-ground  of  the 
"Uppers."  The  gravel  walk  to  the  left  was  the 
site  of  the  eastern  cloisters.  Two  doorways  of 
ancient  cells  still  remain.  Near  one  of  them  are 
two  flat  square  stones,  which  tradition  reports  to 
have  formed  the  foot  of  the  coffin  of  the  former 
inhabitant  of  the  cell. 

A  door  from  the  cloister  on  the  right  opens  into 
a  room  called  Brooke  Hall,  "named,"  says  the 
author  of  "  Chronicles  of  the  Charterhouse,"  "after 
Mr.  Robert  Brooke,  fourth  master  of  the  school, 
who  was  ejected  for  not  taking  the  Solemn  League 
and  Covenant,  but  to  whom,  on  the  Restoration, 
this  apartment  belonged.  Over  the  fireplace  is  an 
ancient  portrait  of  a  man  reading,  with  the  following 
motto  inscribed  on  the  sides  : — 

"And  gladly  -vyould  he  learn,  and  gladly  teach.   1626." 

"  This  has  occasioned  many  surmises  and  suppo- 
sitions. Some  suppose  it  to  be  a  likeness  of 
Brooke,  while  others  assert  that  neither  the  date 
nor  the  apparent  age  of  the  figure  by  any  means 
agrees  with  the  account  received  of  that  gentle- 
man, who,  it  appears,  was  but  a  yoimg  man  when 
admitted  usher,  in  1626.  The  last  conjecture  is 
that  the  portrait  was  .either  that  of  Nicholas 
Grey,  the  first  schoolmaster,  who  resigned  his 
place  in  1624,  or  of  his  brother,  Robert  Grey, 
who  ceased .  to  be  master  in  1626.  This  room 
was  used  as  a  dining-room  for  the  officers  of  the 
house." 

On  the  eastern  wall  of  what  was  called  the 
Upper  Green,  between  two  doorways,  is,  in  white 
paint,  a  large  figure  of  a  crown,  with  the  word 
"Crown"  under  it.  It  is  the  spot  where  the 
"  Crown "  Inn  formerly  stood,  says  Carthusian. 
Tradition  states  that  this  was  painted  by  the  first 
Lord  Ellenborough,  when  he  was  a  boy  in  the- 
school,  as  a  sign-post  for  the  boys  to  halt  at  when 
they  played  at  coaches ;  and  finding  it  there  perfect 
when  he  visited  the  place  as  a  man,  he  expressed 
a  wish  that  it  might  be  kept  renewed.'  In  the 
south-west  corner  of  the  green  was  an  old  tree,  cut 
down  about  thirty  years  ago,  which  was  called 
"Hoop  Tree,"  from  the  custom  the  boys  had  of 
throwing  their  hoops  into  the  branches  when  they 
broke  up  for  the  holidays.  Hoop-bowling  was-  a 
great  game  at  Charterhouse,  up  to  about  1825"  or 
1830  J  and  some  boys  attained  such  proficiency, 
that  they  could  trundle  five  or  six  hoops,  or  even 


396 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Charterhouse. 


more,  at  one  time.  At  the  north-east  corner  of 
the  Under  Green,  now  built  over,  was  the  "  Coach 
Tree,"  so  called  from  the  boys  climbing  into  it 
at  certain  times  of  the  day,  to  see  the  coaches 
pass  up  Goswell  Street,  between  Islington  and  St. 
Martin's -le- Grand.  The  site  of  St.  Thomas's 
Church,  Charterhouse,  was  the  ground  where  boys 


scholars  on  the  foundation.  An  extra  half-holiday 
is  given  at  Charterhouse  when  a  Carthusian  ob- 
tains distinction  at  either  of  the  universities.  The 
gown-boys  were  prohibited  going  out  during  Lent. 
The  chapel-bell  rings  at  eight  or  nine  at  night,  to 
warn  the  pensioners.  When  one  of  the  old  men 
dies,  his  comrades  are  informed  of  his  departure 


THOMAS  SUTTON.     {From  an  Engraving  by  Virtue  of  the  Charterhouse  Portrait.) 


who  quarrelled  were  accustomed  to  give  each  other 
pugilistic .  satisfaction. 

In  the  south-east  corner  of  the  green  was  the 
"  Tennis  Court,"  really  the  "  Fives-Court." 

The  school,  which  moved  to  Godalming,  for 
sanitary  and  t)ther  reasons,  in  May,  1872,  was 
divided  into  seven  forms,  inclusive  of  the  "  shell,"  or 
transition  state  between  the  third  and  fourth  forms. 
The  very  young  boys  were  called  "  Petties."  The 
present  number  of  boys  is  320,  of  which  55  are 


by  one  stroke  less  being  given  than  on  the  pre- 
ceding evening.  The  number  of  strokes  usually 
given  is  eighty,  corresponding  to  the  number  of  the 
old  gentlemen  in  the  black  cloaks. 

The  following  description  of  Charterhouse  dis- 
cipline and  customs,  from  1842  to  1847,  was 
kindly  communicated  to  us  by  Arthur  Locker, 
Esq.  :— 

"  I  was,"  says  Mr.  Locker,  ".at  the  Charterhouse 
from  1842  to  1847.      At  that  time  Dr.  A.  P. 


The  Charterhouse.] 


FAGGING  AT  THE  CHARTERHOUSE. 


397 


Saunders  was  head-master  (now  Dean  of  Peter- 
borough) ;  Rev.  Oliver  Walford  was  second-master 
(since  dead);  Rev.  H.  W.  Phillott  and  Rev.  F. 
Poynder  were  assistant-masters;  Rev.  C.  N. 
Dicken,  the  reader,  read  the  daily  prayers  in 
the  chapel,  and  also  taught  in  the  school.  While 
I  was  there  the  numbers  of  the  school  varied 
from  about  150  to  180.  Of  these  44  (and,  at  one 
time,  by  a  special  privilege,  45)  were  foundationers, 
or  gown-boys,  who  were  fed,  educated,  and  partially 


fag  or  be  fagged,  and  very  often,  in  consequence, 
great  bulHes.  The  lower  school  (all  subject  to 
fagging)  were  the  shell,  the  third,  second,  first  forms, 
and  the  petties.  In  our  house  we  had  four  monitors, 
who  exercised  some  of  the  duties  of  masters.  They 
could  cane  boys  for  breach  of  rules,  and  could  put 
their  names  down  in  the  black  book  (three  ^  in- 
sertions during  one  week  in  that  volume  involved 
a  flogging;  and  the  floggings,  administered  with 
long  apple-twigs,  were  very  severe).     These  moni- 


STREET    FRONT  OF   THE   FLEET    TRISON. 


'clothed,  by  the  institution.  Each  governor  (the 
governors  were  the  leading  men  of  the  country, 
cabinet  ministers,  archbishops,  &c.)  selected  a  boy 
in  turn,  as  a  vacancy  occurred,  and  the  eligible  age 
was  from  ten  till  fourteen.  Most  of  the  gown-boys 
were  either  aristocratically  connected,  or  possessed 
interest  with  the  higher  class.  The  remainder  of 
the  boys,  whose  parents  paid  for  their  education, 
lived  respectively  in  the  three  boarding-houses  of 
Messrs.  Saunders,  Walford,  and  Dicken,  and  were 
called  Sanderites,  Verrites,  and  Dickenites.  There 
were  also  about  twenty  day-scholars.  The  upper 
sqjiool  consisted  of  the  sixth  and  fifth  forms,  which 
had  the  privilege  of  fagging ;  then  came  the  fourth 
form,  a  sort  of  neutral  class,  neither  allowed  to 
82— Vol.  IL 


tors,  and  some  others  of  the  big  boys,  had  little 
slips  of  rooms  for  their  own  use,  called  '  studies,' 
and  each  proprietor  of  a  study  had  a  study-fag, 
who,  besides  keeping  his  books  free  from  dust 
and  in  good  order,  made  his  coffee,  toasted  his 
roll,  washed  his  hair-brushes,  &c.  Boys  rather  liked 
this  special  service,  as  it  saved  them  from  the 
indiscriminate  fagging  inflicted  by  strangers.  The 
cricket-fagging  was  the  worst.  I  have  been  kept 
stopping  balls  behind  a  wicket  for  a  fellow  prac- 
tising for  five  hours  at  a  stretch,  and  beaten  on  the 
back  with  a  bat  if  I  missed  a  ball.  Fagging  pro- 
duced laziness  and  tyranny  among  the  big  boys, 
and  lying  and  deception  among  the  little  ones. 
The  monitors,  by  the  way,  had  a  special  set  of 


398 


OL'D  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Charterhouse. 


fags  called  'basinites,'  whose  business  it  was  to  take 
'  care  that  the  basins  were  filled,  towels  dried,  and 
soap  ready  in  the  monitors'bedroom,  for  they  washed 
up-stairs.  We  washed  in  a  public  room,  fitted  up 
with  basins.'  The  dietary  arrangements  at  Charter- 
house were  under  the  management  of  a  jolly  old  red- 
faced  gentleman  named  Tucker,  who  had  formerly 
been  in  the  army.  He  was  called  the  '  Manciple.' 
The  food  was  very  good;  and  on  Fridays  (perhaps 
as  a  protest  against  Roman  Catholicism)  we  fared 
especially  well.  Friday  was  styled  'Consolation 
Day,'  and  we  had  roast  lamb  and  currant  tart,  or 
roast  pork  and  apple  tart,  according  to  the  season 
of  the  year.  We  said  our  lessons  in  a  large  build- 
ing called  the  New  School,  in  the  centre  of  the  two 
greens  ;  but  we  learnt  our  lessons,  and  had  for  an 
in-door  playing-place  a  writing-school  of  our  own. 
Here,  from  eight  till  nine  o'clock  every  evening, 
one  of  the  masters  kept  'banco'— that  is  to  say, 
everybody  was  bound  to  be  quiet  for  one  hour, 
though  they  might  read  story-books,  or  do  what 
they  pleased.  We  were  locked  up  in  our  bed- 
rooms at  night,  the  windows  of  which  were  further 
secured  by  iron  bars.  The  doors  were  unfastened 
at  seven  o'clock,  and  school  began  at  eight.  Cricket 
was  the  chief  game  in  the  summer  quarter ;  during 
the  rest  of  the  year  we  had  football  and  hockey. 
Fives  was  also  played  in  one  of  the  courts,  but  tops 
and  marbles  were  discountenanced,  as  savouring 
(heaven  save  the  mark  !)  of  private  schools.  As  a 
rule,  boys  are  very  conventional  and  narrow-minded. 
We  were  kept  quite  apart  from  the  eighty  old  pen- 
sioners, or  '  codds,'  as  they  were  called,  and  only  saw 
them  on  Sundays  and  saints'  days  in  chapel.  I 
remember  two  in  whom  we  felt  an  interest — Mr. 
Moncrieff,  the  dramatist ;  and  a  Mr.  Bayzand  (or 
some  such  name),  who  had  been  a  harlequin,  but  who 
at  fourscore  had  grown  a  very  decrepit,  unwieldy 
inan.  The  upper  form  boys  were  allowed  the  privilege 
of  going  out  from  Saturday  afternoon  till  Sunday 
evening,  at  nine  p.m.,  provided  they  received  an 
invitation  from  parents  or  friends,  which  invitation 
had  to  be  submitted  for  approval  to  the  head- 
master. The  lower  forms  were  allowed  the  same 
privilege  every  alternate  Saturday.  At  all  other 
times  we  were  strictly  confined  to  our  own  partj  of 
the  premises ;  and  many  a  time  have  we,  imprisoned 
behind  those  gloomy  walls,  longed  for  the  libCTty 
of  Goswell  Street,  the  houses  of  which  overlooked 
our  under  green. 

"The  great  festival  of  the  year  was  the  12th  De- 
cember, held  in  memory  of  our  benefactor,  Thomas 
Sutton,  when,  after  a  service  in  the  chapel,  a  Latin 
oration  was  delivered  by  the  head  gown-boy,  then 
going   to  college,   and   a   collection  put   into  the 


trencher-cap  by  the  visitors  who  came  to  hear  him. 
A  hundred  pounds,  or  more,  was  often  thus  collected. 
After  this  the  old  Carthusians  dined  together,  and 
spent  the  rest  of  the  evening  at  the  house  of  the 
master  (Archdeacon  Hale).  The  master  was 
supreme  over  the  whole  establishment,  both  boys 
and  pensioners  :  he  must  not  at  all  be  confounded 
with  the  school-xass.'Kx.  When  a  boy  left  school, 
his  name  was  engraved  on  the  stone  wall  which 
faced  the  school  buildings,  with  the  date  of  the 
year  of  his  departure." 

"  In  former  times,"  says  Mr.  Howard  Staunton, 
"  there  was  a  curious  custom  in  this  school,  termed 
'  pulling-in,'  by  which  the  lower  boys  manifested 
their  opinion  of  the  seniors  in  a  rough  but  very 
intelligible  fashion.  One  day  in  the  year  the  fags, 
like  the  slaves  in  Rome,  had  freedom,  and  held  a 
kind  of  saturnalia.  On  this  privileged  occasion 
they  used  to  seize  the  upper  boys,  one  by  one, 
and  drag  them  from  the  playground  into  the  school- 
room, and,  accordingly  as  the  victim  was  popular 
or  the  reverse,  he  was  either  cheered  and  mildly 
treated,  or  was  hooted,  groaned  at,  and  some- 
times soundly  cuffed.  The  day  selected  was  Good 
Friday,  and,  although  the  practice  was  nominally 
forbidden,  the  officials,  for  many  years,  took  no 
measures  to  prevent  it.  One  ill-omened  day,  how- 
ever, when  the  sport  was  at  the  best,  the  doctor 
was  espied  approaching  the  scene  of  battle.  A 
general  sauve  qui  peut  ensued,  and,  in  the  hurry 
of  flight,  a  meek  and  quiet  lad  (the  Hon.  Mr. 
Howard),  who  happened  to  be  seated  on  some 
steps,  was  crushed  so  dreadfully  that,  to  the  grief 
of  the  whole  school,  he  shortly  after  died.  '  Pulling- 
in'  was  thenceforth  sternly  interdicted." 

On  the  resignation,  in  1832,  of  Dr.  Russell  (who 
was  appointed  to  the  living  of  Bishopsgate,  the 
number  of  the  school  fell  off  from  about  600  boys 
to  something  about  100  or  80,  consequently  many 
of  the  junior  masters  were  dismissed. 

The  poor  brothers  of  the  Charterhouse  (a  very 
interesting  feature  of  Sutton's  rather  perverted 
charity)  are  now  eighty  in  number.  They  receive 
^^36  a  year,  have  comfortable' rooms  rent-free,  and 
are  required  to  wear,  when  in  bounds,  a  long  black 
cloak.  They  attend  chapel  twice  a  day,  at  half- 
past  nine  and  six,  and  dine  together  in  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk's  fine  old  hall.  The  only  special  re- 
striction over  the  old  brothers  is  the  necessity  of 
being  in  every  night  at  eleven,  and  they  are  fined 
a  shilUng  for  every  non-attendance  at  chapel— a  rule 
that  secures,  as  might  have  been  expected,  the  most 
Pharisaic  punctuality  at  such  ceremonials.  This 
respectable  brotherhood  used  to  contain  a  good 
many  of  Wellington's  old  Peninsular  officers,now  and 


The  Charterhouse.) 


FOUNDER'S  DAY  AT  THE  CHARTERHOUSE. 


399 


then  a  bankrapt  country  squire,  and  now  and  then 
— much  out  of  place— came  the  old  butler  of  one 
of  the  governors. 

Thackeray  has  immortalised  his  old  school, 
about  which  he  writes  so  fondly,  and  with  that 
air  of  thoughtful  regret,  that  so  marks  his  sadder 
passages :  "  Mention,''  says  the  great  novelist,  in 
"The  Newcomes,"  "has  been  made  once  or  twice, 
in  the  course  of  this  history,  of  the  Grey  Friars' 
School — ^where  the  colonel,  and  Clive,  and  I  had 
been  brought  up — an  ancient  foundation  of  the 
time  of  James  I.,  still  subsisting  in  the  heart  of 
London  city.  The  death-day  of  the  founder  of 
the  place  is  still  kept  solemnly  by  the  Cistercians. 
In  their  chapel,  where  assemble  the  boys  of  the 
school,  ^nd  the  fourscore  old  men  of  the  hospital, 
the  founder's  tomb  stands — a  huge  edifice,  em- 
blazoned with  heraldic  decorations  and  clumsy 
carved  allegories.  There  is  an  old  hall,  a  beautiful 
specimen  of  the  architecture  of  James's  time.  An 
old  hall  ?  Many  old  halls,  old  staircases,  old  pas- 
sages, old  chambers  decorated  with  old  portraits, 
walking  in  the  midst  of  which  we  walk,  as  it  were, 
in  the  early  seventeenth  century.  To  others  than 
Cistercians,  Grey  Friars  is  a  dreary  place,  possibly. 
Nevertheless,  tlie  pupils  educated  there  love  to 
revisit  it,  and  the  oldest  of  us  grow  young  again 
for  an  hour  or  two  as  we  come  back  into  those 
scenes  of  childhood. 

"The  custom  of  the  school  is,  that  on  the  12th 
of  December,  the  Founder's  Day,  the  head  gown- 
boy  shall  recite  a  Latin  oration,  in  praise  Fundatoris 
Nostri,  and  upon  other  subjects,  and  a  goodly 
company  of  old  Cistercians  is  generally  brought 
together  to  attend  this  oration  ;  after  which  we  go 
to  chapel,  and  hear  a  sermon  ;  after  which  we 
adjourn  to  a  great  dinner,  where  old  condiscjples 
meet,  old  toasts  are  given,  and  speeches  are  made. 
Before  marching  from  the  oration-hall  to  chapel, 
the  stewards  of  the  day's  dinner,  according  to  old- 
fashioned  rite,  havd  wands  put  into  their  hands, 
walk  to  church  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  and 
sit  there  in  places  of  honour.  The  boys  are  already 
in  their  seats,  with  smug  fresh  faces,  and  shining 
white  collars;  the  old  black-gowned  pensioners 
are  on  their  benches,  the  chapel  is  lighted,  and 
founder's  tomb,  with  its  grotesque  carvings,  mon- 
sters, heraldries,  darkles  and  shines  with  the  most 
wonderful  shadows  and  lights.  There  he  lies, 
Foundator  Noster,  in  his  ruff  and  gown,  awaiting 
the  Great  Examination  Day.  We  oldsters,  be  we 
ever  so  old,  become  boys  again  as  we  look  at  that 
familiar  old  tomb,  and  think  how  the  seats  are 
altered  since  we  were  here,  and  how  the  doctor — 
not  the  present  doctor,  the  doctor  of  our  time — 


used  to  sit  yonder,  and  his  awfiil  eye  used  to 
frighten  us  shuddering  boys,  on  whom  it  lighted ; 
and  how  the  boy  next  us  would  kick  our  shins 
during  service-time,  and  how  the  monitor  would 
cane  us  afterwards  because  our  shins  were  kicked. 
Yonder  sit  forty  cherry -cheeked  boys,  thinking 
about  home  and  holidays  to-morrow.  Yonder  sit 
some  threescore  old  gentlemen-pensioners  of  the 
hospital,  Hstening  to  the  prayers  and  the  psalms. 
You  hear  them  coughing  feebly  in  the  twilight — the 
old  reverend  blackgowns.  Is  Codd  Ajax  alive? 
you  wonder.  The  Cistercian  lad-s  called  these 
old  gentlemen  '  codds,'  I  know  not  whqrefore — I 
know  not  wherefore— but  is  old  Codd  Ajax  alive? 
I  wonder;  or  Codd  Soldier,  or  kind  old  Codd 
Gentleman,  or  has  the  grave  closed  over  them  ?  A 
plenty  of  candles  light  up  this  chapel,  and  this 
scene  of  age  and  youth,  and  early  memories,  and 
pompous  death.  How  solemn  the  well-remembered 
prayers  are,  here  uttered  again  in  the  place  where 
in  childhood  we  used  to  hear  them  !  How  beau- 
tiful and  decorous  the  rite  !  How  noble  the  ancient 
words  of  the  supplications  which  the  priest  utters, 
and  to  which  generations  of  fresh  children,  and 
troops  of  bygone  seniors,  have  cried  'Amen'  under 
those  arches !  The  service  for  Founder's  Day  is 
a  special  one,  one  of  the  Psalms  selected  being 
the  thirty-seventh,  and  we  hear — '  23.  The  steps 
of  a  good  man  are  ordered  by  the  Lord :  and  he 
delighteth  in  his  way.  24.  Though  he  fall,  he  shall 
not  be  utterly  cast  down:  for  the  Lord  upholdeth 
him  with  his  hand.  25.  I  have  been  young,  and 
now  am  old :  yet  have  I  not  seen  the  righteous 
forsaken,  nor  his  seed  begging  bread.'  As  we 
came  to  this  verse  I  chanced  to  look  up  from  my 
book  towards  the  swarm  of  black-coated  pen- 
sioners, and  amongst  them — amongst  them — sat 
Thomas  Newcome. 

"His  dear  old  head  was  bent  down  over  his 
prayer-book;  there  was  no  mistaking  him.  H» 
wore  the  black  gown  of  the  pensioners  of  the  Hos- 
pital of  Grey  Friars.  His  order  of  the  Bath  was 
on  his  breast.  He  stood  there  amongst  the  poor 
brethren,  uttering  the  responses  to  the  psalm.  The 
steps  of  this  good  man  had  been  ordered  hither  by 
Heaven's  decree  :  to  this  almshouse  !  Here  it  was 
ordained  that  a  life  all  love,  and  kindness,  and 
honour  should  end  !  I  heard  no  more  of  prayers, 
and  psalms,  and  sermon  after  that."     *    *    *  '  * 

And  who  can  forget  the  solemn  picture  of  the 
colonel's  death  ?  "  One  afternoon,"  says  Thackeray, 
"he  asked  for  his  little  gown-boy,  and  the  child 
was  brought  to  him  and  sate  by  the  bed  with  a  very 
awe-stricken  face  ;  and  then  gathered  courage,  and 
tried  to  amuse  him  by  telling  him  how  it  was  a 


400 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Chattwhouse. 


half-holiday,  and  they  were  having  a  cricket  match 
with  the  St.  Peter's  boys  in  the  green,  and  Grey 
Friars  were  in  and  winning.  ...  At  the  usual 
evening  hour,  the  chapel  bell  began  to  toll,  and 
Thomas  Newcome's  hands,  outside  the  bed,  feebly 
beat  time;  and  just  as  the  last  bell  struck,  a 
peculiar  sweet  smUe  shone  over  his  face,  and  he 
lifted  up  his  head  a  little,  and  quickly  said, '  Adsum,' 
and  fell  back.  It  was  the  word  we  used  at  school 
when  names  were  called,  and  lo  !  he,  whose  heart 
was  as  that  of  a  little  child,  had  answered  to  his 
name,  and  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  Master." 

At  the  Poor  Brothers'  celebration  was  formerly 
sung  the  old  Carthusian  melody,  with  this  quaint 
chorus : — 

"  Then  blessed  be  the  memory 
Of  good  old  Thomas  Sutton, 
Who  gave  us  lodging — leaming, 
And  he  gave  us  beef  and  mutton." 

Among  the  poor  brothers  of  the  Charterhouse 
who  have  here  found  a  refuge  the  rough  outer  world 
denied,  the  most  justly  celebrated  was  Stephen 
Gray,  Copley  medallist  of  the  Royal  Society,  and  a 
humble  and  patient  resident  here  in  the  early  part 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  This  remarkable  and 
now  almost  forgotten  discoverer  formed  the  subject 
of  a  lecture  lately  delivered  at  Charterhouse  by  Dr- 
Benjamin  Ward  Richardson,  F.R.S.,  from  which  we 
derive  the  following  facts  : — The  first  time  that  Mr- 
Gray  was  known  anything  about  was  in  the  year 
1692,  when  he  was,  perhaps,  about  the  age  of 
forty,  and  was  living  at  Canterbury,  pursuing  astro- 
nomical studies.  In  that  year  he  was  known  to 
have  made  astronomical  inquiries  as  to  certain 
mock  suns  which  he  saw.  He  then,  in  1696, 
turned  his  attention  to  microscopes,  and  made  one 
by  melting  a  rod  of  glass,  which,  when  the  end 
was  in  a  molten  state,  dropped  off  and  formed  a 
round  solid  globe,  which  acted  as  a  powerful  mag- 
nifier. That,  however,  was  not  sufficiently  powerful, 
so  he  made  a  more  powerful  one  by  having  a 
hollow  globe  of  glass  filled  with  water,  and  -vvith 
this  he  was  enabled  to  discover  animalculse  in 
the  water.  The  sams  year  witnessed  a  great  im- 
provement of  his  in  the  barometer.  It  had  been 
invented  some  years  before,  but  Mr.  Gray  hit  upon 
an  ingenious  method  of  taking  an  accurate  reading 
of  the  instrument.  In  1699  the  same  gentleman 
observed  again  mock  suns  in  the  heavens,  and  a 
halo  round  the  true  sun,  but  did  nothing  more  than 
record  the  fact.  His  next  step  in  science  was 
to  obtain  a  meridian  line,  after  which,  in  about  a 
couple  of  years,  spots  in  the  sun  attracted  his 
attention  :  Mr.  Gray  was  one  of  ,the  first  ob- 
servers of  that  phenomenon,  and  in  1706  he  re- 


corded an  eclipse  of  the   sun.     From  that  time 
to    1720,   not  much  was  heard  of  either  him  or 
his  discoveries,  but  in  the  latter  year  a  letter  was 
sent  by  Prince  George    to  the   Charterhouse,  re- 
questing that  he  might  be  admitted.      After  his 
admission  to  the  charity  he  remained  without  doing 
much  for  some  time,  but  at  length  he  recommenced 
his  labour  by  sending  a  paper  to  the  Royal  Society, 
denominated  "  Some  New  Electrical  Experiments," 
and  some  little  time  after  that  he  became  known 
to  Dr.  Gilbert,  a  man  of  great  research.     Dr.  Gil- 
bert made  several  experiments  with  the  magnet,  as 
to  its  power  of  attraction ;  he  also  discovered  that 
amber  when  rubbed  would  lead  a  balance-needle, 
and  in  prosecuting  his  inquiries  further,  found  out 
that   sealing  wax,   resin,   and  glass  possessed  the 
same  qualities,   but  that  they  were  different  from 
the  magnet  in  many  other  respects.     He  therefore 
named    them  after   the    Greek    word    for  amber 
(electron),  thus  bringing  into  use   the  word  elec- 
tricity.    That  was  one  of  the  men  who  took  notice 
of  Mr.   Gray   and   his  experiments.      About  this 
period  some  experiments  were  made  with  reference 
to  repulsion   and  attraction   by   Mr.  Gray,  which 
were  followed   up   by  Sir   Isaac  Newton,  during 
which  the  great  philosopher  discovered  that  small 
pieces  of  gold  leaf  and  paper  placed  in  a  box  with 
a  glass  lid  would  fiy  up  to  the  lid  when  it  was 
briskly   rubbed.      Mr.    Gray    then  discovered  if 
parchment,   goldbeaters'    skin,   and    brown  paper 
were  heated,  they  would  all  attract  feathers  towards 
them.     A  fir  rod,  with  an  ivory  ball  attached  to  it 
and  placed  in  a  cork,  and  the  tube  in  a  charged 
glass   rod,   would    also   produce   the  same  result. 
That  showed  to  the  ingenious  mind  of  Mr.  Gray 
that  electricity  could  be  transmitted  from  one  sub- 
stance  to   another.     Mr.   Gray  having  discovered 
that  electricity  could  be  so  transmitted,  was  led  to 
try  packthread  as  a  conductor.     Packthread  was 
accordingly  employed,  and  found  to  act  very  well 
as  such  a  medium  when  used  in  a  vertical  position, 
but  when  in  a  horizontal  one  it  would  not  cany  any 
spark  at  all.     This  discovery  was  made  in  a  bam 
by  Mr.  Granville  Wheeler,  at  Atterden  House,  near 
Faversham.     The  cause  of  the  failure  was  owing  to 
the  fact  that  the  current  passed  off  up  to  the  ceil- 
ing.    The  line  was  then  suspended  at  distances 
by  means    of   pieces   of    silk  thread,   and  when 
that  was  donf.  the  current  passed  through  to  the 
end  of  the  line.     As  silk  thread  was  easily  broken 
copper  wire  was  employed,  but  with  no  better  result, 
and  by  that  means  the  discovery  was  arrived  at 
that  there  were  some  bodies  which  carried  off  the 
electric  current,  and  others  which  concentrated  it. 
After  this  later  discovery  the  first  electric  line  in 


The  Charterhouse  J 


A  FAMOUS  CHARTERHOUSE  POOR  BROTHER. 


401 


the  world  was  made  on  Mr.  Wheeler's  ground,  and 
a  message  through  a  packthread,  and  attached  to 
a  charged  glass  rod,  was  sent  a  distance  of  870 
yards  from  the  grounds  of  Mr.  Wheeler  up  to  his 
garret  window.     Mr.  Gray  having  thus  made  one 
of  the  grandest  discoveries  in  the  world,  followed 
up  his  researches,  and  found  out  that  it  was  not 
necessary  to  have  contact   to   pass  an   electrical 
current.     That  -was   called    induction,   and   some 
short  time  afterwards,  in  1732,  the  Royal  Society 
awarded  their  gold  medal;  and  in  the  same  year 
the  recipient  of  the  gold  medal  further  contributed 
to  science  by  discovering  that  water  could  be  made 
a  conductor,  and  also  that  resin  could  be  made 
to  act  as  a  good  insulator — a  grand  discovery,  for 
without  insulators  we  could  not  make  much  use  of 
the  electric  current.     In  1735  Mr.  Gray  also  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  the   electric  spark,  which  he 
did  by  means  of  a  charged  glass  rod  brought  into 
contact  with  an   iron   bar  resting  upon  bands  of 
silk.    After  this  period  nothing  much  was  heard  of 
him,  and  his  time  was  fast  drawing  to   a   close. 
Before  that  time,  however,  he  invented  a  machine 
which  he  called  his  planetarium.     It  was  a  round 
box  filled  with  resin,  and  a  metal  ball  in  its  centre, 
over  this  was  suspended  a  pith  pellet,  and  if  the 
pellet  gyrated  in  a  circle  the  ball  was  in>the  centre, 
but  if  it  were  not   it  would   move  in  an  elliptic. 
By  such  a  means  as  that  he  thought  he  could  show 
a  complete  planetary  system.      He  was,  however, 
mistaken,  for  the  twirling  of  the  pith  pellet  round 
the  globe  of  metal  was  no  doubt  caused  by  the 
pulsation  of  the  blood  through  the  fingers.     As  a 
further   proof  of  Mr.    Gray's   intellect,   when  he 
obtained  the  first  spark  of  electricity,  he  prophesied 
that  electricity  generated  by  a  machine  would  be- 
come as  powerful  as  the   same  force   in   nature. 
That,  no  doubt,  will  soon  be  the  case,  for  sheep 
and  other  large  animals  have  been  instantaneously 
killed  by  a  machine  weighing  fifteen  hundredweight. 
With  all  the  vices  that  superstition  and  laziness 
could  engender,  there  can  never  be  a  doubt  among 
tolerant  men  that  learning  owes  a  deep  debt  to  the 
much-abused  tenants  of  monasteries.     Many  great 
Biblical  works   and   ponderous   dictionaries   were 
the  products  of  the  indomitable  patience  of  those 
ascetic  workers.      The  Carthusian  order  had,  at 
least,  its  share  of  these  sturdy  toilers,  whose  life's 
silent  but  faithful  labour  was  often  summed  up  in 
an  old  brown  folio.     Among  the  more  celebrated 
of  these  patient  men  we  find    Theobald  English 
(beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century),  who  wrote 
the  lives  of  all  holy  men,  from  the  Creation  to  his 
own  time;  Dr.  Adam  (about  1340),  whose  works 
pe  now  in  the  Bodleian,  wrote  the  "  Life  of  Saint 


Hugh,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,''  treatises  and  works  on 
Tribulation  and  on  the  Eucharist;  John  Olvey 
(1350)  wrote  a  book  on  the  miracles  of  the  Virgin ; 
Prior  Rock,  who  died  in  1470,  left  dialogues, 
epigrams,  and  poems  behind  him,  in  MS. ;  Thomas 
Spencer  (1529)  produced  commentaries  on  St, 
Paul's  Epistles;  John  Batmore,  or  Batmanson, 
prior  in  the  sixteenth  century,  wrote  against  Luther 
and  Erasmus ;  Prior  Chauncey,  of  Bruges,  who 
succeeded  Houghton,  wrote  a  "History  of  the 
Emigration  of  the  Carthusians,"  and  "  Passio  Octo- 
decim  Cartusianorum.'' 

The  allowance  to  each  pensioner  was  originally 
_j^26  i2S.,  paid  in  quarterly  instalments.  The 
scholars  of  the  foundation  were  not  to  exceed  forty. 
The  schoolmaster  and  usher  were  not  allowed  to 
take  in  their  houses  more  than  sixty  other  scholars, 
"  unless  they  entertained  another  under-usher  out 
of  their  own  means,  to  be  dieted  and  lodged  in  the 
hospital."  At  the  annual  examination  in  Easter 
a  gold  medal  is  now  awarded  for  the  best  Latin 
hexameter.  There  are  also  two  silver  medals  for 
Greek  iambics  and  Latin  prose.  On  the  Founda- 
tion Day  a  Latin  oration  is  delivered  in  the  great 
hall  by  the  senior  gown-boy ;  and  at  the  banquet 
which  follows  the  orator's  trencher  goes  round  like 
the  purse  at  Westminster,  which  contributes  to  the 
orator's  outfit  for  Oxford. 

"  It  was  anciently  the  'custom  of  the  Charter- 
house scholars  to  perform  a  dramatic,  piece  on 
"  Founder's  Day."  It  appears,  however,  that  there 
were  other  epochs  set  apart  for  conviviaHty  and 
merriment,  such  as  the  5th  of  November,  the 
anniversary  of  the  deliverance  of  the  kingdom  from 
,the  Popish  plot.  A  play  is  still  extant,  entitled 
"  A  Dramatic  Piece,  by  the  Charterhouse  Scholars, 
in  memory  of  the  Powder  Plot,  performed  at  the 
Charterhouse,  Nov.  6th,  1732-"  The  scene  is 
the  Vatican,  and  the  characters  represented  are  the 
Pope,  the  devil  (in  the  character  of  a  pilgrim),  and 
two  Jesuits.  The  plot  is  by  no  means  uninter- 
esting, and  some  passages  evince  considerable  tact 
and  experience."  An  attempt  has  been  made  to 
connect  this  play  with  a  dramatist,  Elkanah  Settle 
by  name,  who  died  a  pensioner  of  Charterhouse  in 

1724. 

"  Dr.  Young,"  says  the  author  of  the  "  Chronicles 
of  the  Charterhouse,"  "  in  his  epistle  to  Mr.  Pope, 
refers  to  Settle's  last  days  in  the  following  hnes : — 

'  Poor  Elkanah,  all  other  changes  past, 
For  bread  in  Smithfield  dragons  hissed  at  last ; 
Spit  streams  of  fire  to  make  the  butchers  gape. 
And  found  his  manners  suited  to  his  shape.'  "  , 

"  Mr.    Settle    finally    obtained     admission    into 
Charterhouse,  and  there,  resting  from  his  literary 


402 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Charterheuie, 


labours,  died  in  obscurity  in  the  year  1724. 
The  similarity  of  sentiment  which  appears  be- 
tween Mr.  Settle's  works  and  the  play  performed 
by  the  Charterhouse  scholars,  gives  rise  to  a 
supposition  that  the  latter  was  the  work  of  Settle 
himself  The  active  part  which  Mr.  Settle  took 
in  the  famous  ceremony  of  Pope-burning  in  the 
year  1680,  agrees  strictly  with  the  ridicule  which 
is  laid  upon  his  HoUness,  when  made  to  '  run  away 
in  a  fright '  in  the  said  play,  and  the  date  of  his 


commenced  by  Bishop  Wilson,  of  translating  the 
Scriptures  into  the  Manx  language ;  Joseph  Addi- 
son ;  Richard  Steele ;  John  Wesley,  the  founder  of 
Wesleyan  Methodism :  Sir  William  Blackstone ;  Dr. 
John  Jortin ;  Dr.  Martin  Benson,  formerly  Bishop 
of  Gloucester ;  Monk,  late  Bishop  of  Gloucester, 
one  of  our  best  Greek  scholars;  Sir  Simon  Le 
Blanc,  one  of  the  late  Judges  of  the  King's  Bench. 
There  was  a  time  when  this  school  could  claim  as 
her  sons  the  then  Primate  of  England,  Dr.  Manners 


COURTYARD   IN   THE  FLEET  PRISON. 


death  was  only  a  few  years  anterior  to  the  said 
performance ;  there  can  be  but  little  or  no  doubt 
that  it  is  a  composition  of  the  fallen  bard,  who,  it 
is  said,  '  had  a  numerous  poetical  issue,  but  shared 
the  misfortune  of  several  other  gentlemen,  to  sur- 
vive them  all.' " 

"The  register  of  Charterhouse,"  says  Mr. 
Staunton,  in  his  "Great  Schools  of  England," 
1.869,  contains  the  names  of  numerous  pupils 
afterwards  illustrious  in  various  departments  of 
pubhc  life.  Among  these  may  be  noted  Richard 
Crashaw,  the  poet ;  Richard  Lovelace ;  Dr.  Isaac 
Borrow ;  Dr.  John  Davies,  Master  of  Queen's  Col- 
lege, Cambridge ;  Dr.  Mark  Hildersley,  Bishop  of 
Sodor  and  Man,  who  completed  the  arduous  task, 


Sutton ;  the  Prime  Minister  of  England,  the  Earl 
of  Liverpool ;  and  the  Chief  Justice  of  England, 
Lord  Ellenborough.  The  Lord  Chancellor  of  Ire- 
land, Lord  Manners;  Basil  Montagu;  Baron 
Alderson  ;  Sir  Astley  P.  Cooper ;  Sir  Cresswell 
Cresswell,  and  General  Havelock ;  Lord  Justice 
Turner,  and  tlie  late  Sir  Henry  Russell,  Chief 
Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Indian  Judi- 
cature ;  Sir  C.  Eastlake,  P.R.A. ;  William  Make- 
peace Thackeray,  the  great  noveUst,  and  John 
Leech,  the  well-known  artist,  are  proud  names  for 
Charterhouse.  Other  famous  Carthusians  "—but 
it  will  be  seen  that  death  has  already  played  havoc 
with  this  list — "are  Bishop  Thirlwall,  of  St.. 
David's,  the  historian  of  Greece,  and  his'  eminent 


The  Charterhouse.] 


THE  EARLY-^DAYS  OF  THE  FLEET. 


403 


404 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Fleet  Prison. 


rival,  George  Grote ;  Dr.  Waddington,  Dean  of 
Durham,  and  his  brother  Horatio  Waddington, 
.Secretary  for  the  Home  Department ;  the  Earl  of 
Dalhousie ;  the  Right  Hon.  T.  Milner  Gibson, 
M.P. ;  Sir  J.  D.  Harding,  late  Queen's  Advocate ; 
the  Archdeacon  Churton;  the  Dean  of  Peter- 
borough ;  the  Dean  of  Christchurch ;  Sir  Erskine 
Perry ;  Sir  Joseph  Arnould,  Judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Bombay,  and  the  Rev.  Thomas  Mozeley; 
W.  G.  Palgrave  and  F.  T.  Palgrave ;  Sir  H.  Storks ; 
Sir  Charles  Trevelyan ;  Sir  G.  Bowen,  and  others. 

"  In  the  head-monitor's  room,"  says  Mr.  Timbs, 
"is  preserved  the  iron  bedstead  on  vifhich  died 
W.   M.   Thackeray,  and  outside  the  chapel  are 


memorial  tablets  to  Thackeray,  Leech,  and  Have- 
lock,  ei-ected  by  fellow  Carthusians." 

The  collection  of  pictures  in  the  Charterhouse, 
besides  those  already  noticed,  includes  a  portrait 
of  WiUiam,  Earl  of  Craven,  who  fought  bravely 
beside  Gustavus  Adolphus.  The  earl  is  supposed 
to  have  married  James's  daughter,  the  vndowed 
Queen  of  Bohemia;  he  gave  a  name  to  Craven 
Street,  Strand,  and  lived  on  the  site  of  the  Olympic 
Theatre.  The  picture  is  a  full-length,  in  armour. 
The  old  soldier  wields  a  general's  truncheon,  and 
behind  him  spreads  a  camp.  There  are  also 
portraits  of  Bishops  Robinson,  Gibson,  Morley, 
and  others. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE     FLEET     PRISON. 

An  Ancient  Debtors'  Prison— Grievous  Abuses— Star  Chamber  Offenders  in  the  Fleet — Prynne  and  Lilbume— James  Howell,  the  Letter-writer 
— Howard,  the  Philanthropist,  at  the  Fleet — The  Evils  of  Farming  the  Fleet — The  Cases  of  Jacob  Mendez  Solas  aaid  Captain  Mackpheadris 
— A  Parliamentary  Inquiry  into  the  State  of  the  Fleet  Prison — Hogarth's  Picture  on  the  Subject— The  Poet  Thomson's  Eulogy  of 
Mr.  Oglethorpe — The  Fleet  Prison  before  and  after  it  was  Burnt  in*  1780 — Code  of  Laws  enforced  in  the  Fleet — The  Liberty  of  the 
"  Rules  "—The  Gordon  Rioters  at  the  Fleet— Weddings  in  the  Fleet— Scandalous  Scenes — Mr.  Pickwick's  Sojourn  in  the  Fleet— Famous 
Inmates  of  the  Prison. 


It  is  difficult  to  carry  the  mind  back  and  imagine 
this  old  London  prison,  carted  away  in  1846,  a 
building  of  nearly  seven  centuries'  existence ;  yet  so 
it  w;as.-  Stow,  to  whom  a  century  was  a  mere  trifle, 
traces  it  back,  in  his  grave,  unpretending  way  (con- 
densing a  week's  research  in  a  line),  as  early  as 
Richard  I.,  who  confirmed  the  custody  of  his 
house  at  Westminster,  and  his  gaol  of  the  Elect 
at  London,  to  Osbert,  brother  of  William  Long- 
shampe,  Chancellor  of  England;  King  John,  also, 
says  the  same  writer,  handed  over  the  sairie  im- 
portant, and,  as  one  might  perhaps  be  allowed  to 
think,  somewhat  incongruous  trusts,  to  the  Arch- 
deacon of  Wells.  The  Fleet  is  proved  to  have 
been  a  debtors'  prison  as  early  as  1290,  but  it 
does  not  figure  largely  in  London  chronicles.  It 
was  probably  as  disgraceful  and  loathsome  as  other 
prisons  of  those  early  days,  the  gaolers  levying  fees 
from  the  prisoiiers,  and  habeas  corpus,  that  Magna 
Charta  of  the  unfortunate,  being  as  yet  unknown. 
The  Fleet  Prison  was  formerly  held  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  Manor  of  Leveland,  in  Kent,  and 
appears  in  a  grant  from  Archbishop  Lanfranc  as 
part  of  the  ancient  possessions  of  the  See  of  Can- 
terbury, soon  after  the  accession  of  William  the 
Conqueror.  That  it  was  burnt  by  Wat  Tyler's 
men  is  only  another  proof  of  the  especia!l  dislike 
of  the  mob  to  such  institutions.  In  Queen  Mary's 
time  §ome  of  the  Protestant  martyrs  were  con- 


fined here.  Bishop  Hooper,  for  instance,  was  twice 
thrust  in  the  Fleet,  till  the  fire  at  Gloucester  could 
be  got  ready  to  bum  his  opinions  out  of  him.  His 
bed  there  is  described  as  "  a  little  pad.  of  straw, 
with  a  rotten  covering.'' 

Strype  says  that  about  the  year  1586  (Elizabeth) 
the  suffering  prisoners  of  the  Fleet  petitioned  the 
Lords  of  the  Council  on  the  matter  of  certain 
grievous  abuses  in  the  management  of  the  prison 
— abuses  that  were,  indeed,  never  thoroughly  cor- 
rected. It  was  the  middleman  system  that  had 
led  to  many  evils.  The  warden,  wishing  to  earn 
his  money  without  trouble,  had  let  the  prison  to  two 
deputies.  These  men  being  poor,  and  greedy  for 
money,  had  established  an  iniquitous  system  of 
bribery  and  extortion,  inflicting  constant  fines  and 
payments,  and  cruelly  punishing  all  refractory 
prisoners  who  ventured  to  rebel,  or  even  to  re- 
monstrate, stopping  their  exercise,  and  forbidding 
them  to  see  their  friends.  A  commission  was 
granted,  but  nothing  satisfactory  seems  to  have 
come  from  it,  as  we  find,  in  1593,  another  groan 
arising  from  the  wretched  prisoners  of  the  Fleet, 
who  preferred  a  bill  to  Parliament,  reciting,  in 
twenty-eight  articles,  the  misdemeanours  and  even 
murders  of  the  obnoxious  deputy-warden.  "  The 
warden's  fees  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,"  says  Mr. 
Timbs,  "were — An  archbishop,  duke,  or  duchess, 
for  his  commitment   fee,  and   the   first    week's 


The  Fleet  Prison.] 


HOWARD   ON  THE  FLEET  PRISON. 


405 


'dyett,' ;^2i  los. ;  a  lord,  spiritual  or  temporal, 
^10  5s.  lod. ;  a  knight,  ^^5 ;  an  esquire,  j£^  6s.  8d. ; 
and  even  '  a  poor  man  in  the  wards,  that  hath  a 
part  at  the  box,  to  pay  for  his  fee,  having  no  dyett, 
7s.  4d.'  The  warden's  charge  for  licence  to  a 
prisoner  'to  go  abroad'  was  2od.  per  diem." 

The  fruitless  martyrdoms  of  Mary's  reign  had 
not  convinced  such  narrow-minded  bigots  as  Laud 
of  the  foUy^of  attempting  to  convert  adversaries  by 
force.  The  Fleet  became  the  special  prison  for 
Star  Chamber  offenders,  including  many  dogged 
Puritan  lampooners  and  many  generous  champions 
of  liberty,  and  even  bishops  were  crammed  into  the 
Fleet  for  unorthodox  conduct.  Two  Of  the  most 
historical  of  the  theoretical  culprits  were  Prynne 
and  Lilburne.  The  former  tough  old  lawyer,  for 
simply  denouncing  actresses,  with  a  supposed 
glance  at  the  Queen  of  Charles  I.,  was  taken  from 
the  Fleet  to  the  pillory,  to  have  his  nostrils  slit  and 
his  ears  cut  off — a  revenge  for  which  the  king  paid 
dearly,  and  gained  an  inexorable  and  pitiless  foe. 
Lilburne,  "free-bom  John,"  as  he  was  called  by 
the  Republicans,  was  one  of  the  most  extraordinary 
men  the  dens  of  the  Fleet  ever  contained,  or  the 
Fleet  irons  ever  cramped.  For  reprinting  one  of 
Prynne's  violent  books,  honest  John,  who  after- 
wards fought  bravely  in  support  of  his  opinions  at 
Edgehill  and  elsewhere,  was  whipped  at  the  cart's 
tail  from  the  Fleet  to  the  pillory  at  Westminster. 
Even  at  the  pillory  he  threw  seditious  pamphlets  to 
the  populace,  and  when  he  was  gagged,  to  prevent 
his  indignant  orations,  he  stamped,  to  express  his 
indignation.  That  pleasant  letter-writer,  James 
Howell,  was  also  a  prisoner  here,  from  1643  to 
1647,  when  his  glasshouse  schemes  failed,  and  on 
his  return  from  his  business  travels  in  Italy  and 
Spain.  In  a  letter  to  the  Earl  of  B he  de- 
scribes being  arrested  by  five  men  armed  with 
"  swords,  pistols,  and  bills ;"  and  he  adds,  in  his 
usual  cheery  way,  "  as  far  as  I  see,  I  must  be  at 
dead  anchor  in  this  Fleet  a  long  time,  unless  some 
gentle  gale  blow  thence,  to  make  me  launch  out." 

After  the  abolition  of  Laud's  detestable  Star 
Chamber  court,  in  1641,  the  Fleet  Prison  was  re- 
served for  debtors  only,  and  for  contempt  of  the 
Courts  of  Chancery,  Common  Pleas,  and  Ex- 
chequer. The  prison  was  burnt  down  in  the 
Great  Fire,  when  the  prisoners  were  removed  for  a 
time  to  Caroone  House,  South  Lambeth,  the  man- 
sipn  of  the  Netherlands  ambassador  in  the  reigns 
of  EUzabeth  and  James. 

Howard,  the  philanthropist,  visited  the  Fleet 
for  the  first  time  in  April,  1774,  and,  in  his  "  State 
of  the  Prisons  in  England  and  Wales,"  speaks  of 
it  five  years  later,  as  clean  and  free  from  offensive 


odours.  The  building  was  burnt  by  the  rioters  in 
1780,  but  was  immediately  rebuilt  on  the  old  plan. 
The  new  gaol  is  thus  described  by  Howard : — 

"  At  the  front,"  he  says,  "  is  a  narrow  court.  At 
each  end  of  the  building  there  is  a  small  projec- 
tion, or  wing.  There  are  four  floors — they  call  them 
galleries — besides  the  cellar  floor,  called  'Bartho- 
lomew Fair.'  Each  gallery  consists  of  a  passage  in 
the  middle  the  whole  length  of  the  prison,  66 
yards ;  and  rooms  on  each  side  of  it  about  14^ 
feet  by  i2|,  and  9^  feet  high;  a  chimney  and 
window  in  every  room.  The  passages  are  narrow 
(not  7  feet  wide)  and  darkish,  having  only  a  window 
at  each  end.  On  the  first  floor,  the  hall-gallery,  to 
which  you  ascend  by  eight  steps,  are  a  chapel,  a 
tap-room,  a  coffee-room  (made  out  of  two  rooms 
for  debtors),  a  room  for  the  turnkey,  another  for  the 
watchman,  and  eighteen  rooms  for  prisoners.  Be- 
sides the  coffee-room  and  tap-room,  two  of  those 
eighteen  rooms,  and  all  the  cellar-floor,  except  a 
lock-up  room  to  confine  the  disorderly,  and  another 
room  for  the  turnkey,  were  held  by  the  tapster, 
John  Cartwright,  who  bought  the  remainder  of  the 
lease  at  public  auction  in  1775.  The  cellar-floor 
is  sixteen  steps  below  the  hall-gallery.  It  consists 
of  the  two  rooms  just  now  mentioned,  the  tapster's 
kitchen,  his  four  large  beer  and  wine  cellars,  and 
fifteen  rooms  for  prisoners.  These  fifteen,  and  the 
two  before  mentioned  on  the  hall-gallery,  the  tapster 
lets  to  prisoners  for  from  4s.  to  8s.  a  week.  On 
the  second  floor  (that  next  above  the  hall-gallery) 
are  twenty-five  rooms  for  prisoners;  on  the  next 
gallery,  twenty-seven.  One  of  them,  fronting  the 
staircase,  is  their  committee-room.  A  room  at  one 
end  is  an  infirmary ;  at  the  other  end,  in  a  large 
room  over  the  chapel,  is  a  dirty  billiard-table,  kept 
by  the  prisoner  who  sleeps  in  that  room.  On  the 
highest  storey  are  twenty-seven  rooms.  Some  of 
these  upper  rooms — viz.,  those  in  the  wings — are 
larger  than  the  rest,  being  over  the  chapel,  the  tap- 
room, &c.  All  the  rooms  I  have  mentioned  are 
for  Master's  Side  debtors.  The  weekly  rent  of  those 
not  held  by  the  tapster  is  is.  3d.,  unfurnished. 
They  fall  to  the  prisoners  in  succession  ;  thus,  when 
a  room  becomes  vacant,  the  first  prisoner  upon  the 
hst  of  such  as  have  paid  their  entrance-fees  takes 
possession  of  it.  When  the  prison  was  built,  the 
warder  gave  each  prisoner  his  choice  of  a  room, 
according  to  his  seniority  as  prisoner.  If  all  the 
rooms  be  occupied,  a  new  comer  must  hire  of  some 
tenant  a  part  of  his  room,  or  shift  as  he  can.  Pri- 
soners are  excluded  from  all  right  of  succession  to 
the  rooms  held  by  the  tapster,  and  let  at  the  high 
rents  aforesaid.  The  apartments  for  Common 
Side  debtors  are  only  part  of  the  right  wing  of  the 


4o6 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Fleet  Prison. 


prison.  Besides  the  cellar  (which  was  intended 
for  their  kitchen,  but  is  occupied  with  lumber,  and 
shut  up)  there  are  four  floors.  On  each  floor  is  a 
room  about  twenty-four  or  twenty-five  feet  square, 
with  a  fireplace ;  and  on  the  sides,  seven  closets 
or  cabins  to  sleep  in.  Such  of  these  prisoners  as 
swear  in  court,  or  before  a  commissioner,  that  they 
are  not  worth  ;^5,  and  cannot  subsist  witl;out 
charity,  have  the  donations  which  are  sent  to  the 
prison,  the  begging-box,  and  the  grate.  Of  them 
there  were  at  one  of  my  visits  sixteen,  at  some 
other  times  not  so  many." 

In  1726,  the  evils  of  farming  the  Fleet  having 
increased  to  a  disgraceful  and  perfectly  unbearable 
pitch,  a  Parliamentary  investigation  took  place, 
and  Huggins,  the  farmer,  and  Bambridge,  a  low, 
greedy  fellow,  who  was  his  lessee,  were  tried  for 
murder.  The  examination  of  the  witnesses  led  to 
some  ghastly  disclosures,  which  Hogarth,  who  was 
present,  immortalised  in  a  picture  which  at  once 
made  him  celebrated.  The  following  extract  from 
the  governor's  report  discloses  infamous  cruelty  : — 

"  Jacob  Mendez  Solas,  a  Portuguese,  was,  as  far 
as  it  appeared  to  the  committee,  one  of  the  first 
prisoners  for  debt  that  ever  was  loaded  with  irons 
at  the  Fleet.  The  said  Bambridge  one  day  called 
him  into  the  gatehouse  of  the  prison  called  the 
Lodge,  where  he  caused  him  to  be  seized,  fettered, 
and  carried  to  Corbett's  the  spunging-house,  and 
there  kept  for  upwards  of  a  week ;  and  when 
brought  "back  into  the  prison,  Bambridge  caused 
him  to  be  turned  into  the  dungeon  called  the 
Strong-room  of  the  Master's  Side. 

"  The  place  is  a  vault,  like  those  in  which  the 
dead  are  interred,  and  wherein  the  bodies  of  persons 
dying  in  the  said  prison  are  usually  deposited,  till 
the  coroner's  inquest  hath  passed  upon  them.  It 
has  no  chimney  nor  fireplace,  nor  any  light  but 
Tvhat  comes  over  the  door,  or  through  a  hole  of 
about  eight  inches  square.  It  is  neither  paved  nor 
boarded ;  and  the  rough  bricks  appear  both  on  the 
sides  and  top,  being  neither  wainscoted  nor  plas- 
tered. What  adds  to  the  dampness  and  stench  of 
the  place  is  its  being  built  over  the  common 
shore,  and  adjoining  to  the  sink  and  dunghill, 
where  all  the  nastiness  of  the  prison  is  cast.  In  this 
miserable  place  the  poor  wretch  was  kept  by  the 
said  Bambridge,  manacled  and  shackled,  for  near 
two  months.  At  length,  on  receiving  five  guineas 
from  Mr.  Kemp,  a  friend  of  Solas's,  Bambridge 
released  the  prisoner  from  his  cruel  confinement. 
But  though  his  chains  were  taken  oif,  his  terror  still 
remained,  and  the  unhappy  man  was  prevailed 
upon  by  that  terror  not  only  to  labour  gratis  for 
the  said  Bambridge,  but  to  swear  also  at  random 


all  that  he  hath  required  of  him.  And  this  com- 
mittee themselves  saw  an  instance  of  the  deep 
impression  his  sufferings  had  made  upon  him ;  for, 
on  his  surmising,  from  something  said,  that  Bam- 
bridge was  to  return  again  as  warden  of  the  Fleet, 
he  fainted,  and  the  blood  started  out  of  his  mouth 
and  nose. 

"  Captain  John  Mackpheadris,  who  was  bred  a 
merchant,  is  another  melancholy  instance  of  the 
cruel  use  the  said  Bambridge  hath  made  of  his 
assumed  authority.  Mackpheadris  was  a  consider- 
able trader,  and  in  a  very  flourishing  condition,  until 
the  year  1720,  when,  being  bound  for  large  sums 
to  the  Crown,  for  a  person  afterwards  ruined  by  the 
misfortunes  of  that  year,  he  was  undone.  In  June, 
1727,  he  was  prisoner  in  the  Fleet,  and  although 
he  had  before  paid  his  commitment-fee,  the  like  fee 
was  extorted  from  him  a  second  time;  and  he 
having  furnished  a  room,  Bambridge  demanded  an 
extravagant  price  for  it,  which  he  refused  to  pay 
and  urged  that  it  was  unlawful  for  the  warden  to 
demand  extravagant  rents,  and  offered  to  pay  what 
was  legally  due.  Notwithstanding  which,  the  said 
Bambridge,  assisted  by  the  said  James  Barnes,  and 
other  accomplices,  broke  open  his  room  and  took 
away  several  things  of  great  value,  amongst  others, 
the  king's  Extent  in  aid  of  the  prisoner  (which  was 
to  have  been  returned  in  a  few  days,  in  order  to 
procure  the  debt  to  the  Crown,  and  the  prisoner's 
enlargement),  which  Bambridge  still  detains.  Not 
content  with  this,  Bambridge  locked  the  prisoner 
out  of  his  room,  and  forced  him  to  lie  in  the  open 
yard,  called  the  '  Bare.'  He  sat  quietly  under  his 
w/ongs,  and  getting  some  poor  materials,  built  a 
little  hut,  to  protect  himself  as  well  as  he  could 
from  the  injuries  of  the  weather.  The  said 
Bambridge,    seeing    his    unconcernedness,    said, 

' him !  he  is  easy !     I  will  put  him  into  the 

Strong-room  before  to-morrow!'  and  ordered  Barnes 
to  pull  down  his  little  hut,  which  was  done  accord- 
ingly. The  poor  prisoner,  being  dn  an  ill  state  of 
health,  and  the  night  rainy,  was  put  to  great  dis- 
tress. Some  time  after  this  he  was  (about  eleven 
o'clock  at  night)  assaulted  by  Bambridge,  with 
several  other  persons,  his  accomplices,  in  a  violent 
manner ;  and  Bambridge,  though  the  prisoner  was 
unarmed,  attacked  him  with  his  sword,  but  by 
good  fortune  was  prevented  from  killing  him ;  and 
several  other  prisoners  coming  out  upon  the  noise, 
they  carried  Mackpheadris  for  safety  into  another 
gentleman's  room;  soon  after  which  Bambridge, 
coming  with  one  Savage,  and  several  others,  broke 
open  the  door,  and  Bambridge  strove  with  his 
sword  to  kill  the  prisoner,  but  he  again  got  away, 
and  hid  himself  in  another  room.    Next  morning 


ThePi«tPrison.i       ,    A  LONG-DEFERRED   PARLIAMENTARY  INQUIRY. 


467 


the  saidT  Bambridge  entered  the  prison  with  a 
detachment  of  soldiers,  and  ordered  the  prisoner 
to  be  dragged  to  the  lodge,  and  ironed  with  gi-eat 
irons.  On  which  he,  desiring  to  know  for  what 
cause  and  by  what  authority  he  was  to  be  so 
cruelly  used,  Bambridge  replied,  it  was  by  his  own 

authority,  and,  him,  he   would   do   it,    and 

have  his  life.  The  prisoner  desired  he  might  be 
carried  before  a  magistrate,  that  he  might  know 
his  crime  before  he  was  punished ;  but  Bambridge 
refused,  and  put  irons  upon  his  legs  which  were 
too  little,  so  that  in  forcing  them  on  his  legs  were 
like  to  have  been  broken,  and  the  torture  was  im- 
possible to  be  endured.  Upon  which  the  prisoner, 
complaining  of  the  grievous  pain  and  straitness  of 
the  irons,  Bambridge  answered,  that  he  did  it  on 
purpose  to  torture  him.  On  which  the  prisoner 
replying  that  by  the  law  of  England  no  man  ought 
to  be  tortured,  Bambridge  declared  that  he  would 
do  it  first  and  answer  for  it  afterwards ;  and  caused 
him  to  be  dragged  away  to  the  dungeon,  where 
he  lay  without  a  bed,  loaded  with  irons  so  close 
riveted,  that  they  kept  him  in  continual  torture, 
and  mortified  his  legs.  After  long  application  his 
irons  were  changed,  and  a  surgeon  directed  to 
dress  his  legs ;  but  his  lameness  is  not,  nor  can  be, 
cured.  He  was  kept  in  this  miserable  condition 
for  three  weeks,  by  which  his  sight  is  greatly 
prejudiced,  and  in  danger  of  being  lost. 

"  The  prisoner,  upon  this  usage,  petitioned  the 
judges;  and  after  several  meetings,  and  a  full 
hearing,  the  judges  reprimanded  Mr.  Huggins  and 
Bambridge,  and  declared  that  a  gaoler  coulfi  not 
answer  the  ironing  of  a  man  before  he  was  found 
guilty  of  a  crime,  but  it  being  out  of  term,  they 
could  not  give  the  prisoner  any  relief  or  satis- 
faction." 

Notwithstanding  the  judges'  remonstrance,  Bam- 
bridge, cruel  and  greedy  to  the  last,  did  not  release 
the  captain  from  his  irons  till  he  had  wrung  from 
him  six  guineas,  and  indicted  him  for  an  imaginary 
assault  But  the  case  of  Captain  David  Sinclair, 
an  old  officer  of  courage  and  honour,  was  even  a 
worse  one.  Bambridge,  who  disliked  his  prisoner, 
had  boasted  to  one  of  his  turnkeys  that  he  would 
have  Sinclair's  blood.  Selecting  the  king's  birth- 
day, when  he  thought  the  captain  would  be  warm 
with  wine,  he  rushed  into  Sinclair's  room  with  his 
escort,  armed  with  musket  and  bayonet,  struck 
him  with  his  cane,  and  ordered  the  men  to  stab 
the  poor  wretch  with  their  bayonets  if  he  resisted 
being  dragged  down  to  the  Strong-room.  In  that 
damp  and  dark  dungeon  Sinclair  was  confined,  till 
he  lost  the  use  of  his  limbs  and  also  his  memory ; 
and  when  near  dying  he  was  taken  into  a  better 


room,  where  he  was  left  *four  days  without  food. 
In  the  casfe  of  Mr.  John  Holder,  a  Spanish  merchant, 
the  prisoner  died  from  an  illness  produced  by 
horror  at  the  miseries  of  the  Common  Side  to 
which  he  had  been  consigned. 

Bambridge  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  gaoler 
of  the  Fleet  who  put  mere  debtors  in  irons.  The 
old  method  of  punishing  drunken  and  disorderly 
persons  in  this  prison  was  the  stocks ;  while  those 
who  escaped,  or  tried  to  escape,  were  either  set 
in  tubs  at  the  prison  gate,  or  locked  in  their 
rooms  for  several  days.  This  cruel  gaoler  seems  to 
have  defied  even  habeas  corpus,  to  have  stolen 
charitable  bequests,  and  bribed  or  frightened  the 
lawyers  who  came  to  defend  ill-used  prisoners. 
In  the  case  of  Sir  William  Rich,  a  prisoner  who 
was  unable  to  pay  up  his  arrears  for  lodging, 
Barnes,  a  turnkey,  tried  to  bum  him  with  a  red-hot 
poker ;  while  the  warden  threatened  to  fire  at  him, 
struck  him  with  ,a  stick,  and  slashed  at  him  with 
a  hanger.  Rich  was  then  loaded  with  heavy  irons, 
thrown  into  the  dungeon  on  the  Master's  Side,  and 
kept  there  ten  days  for  having,  almost  uncon- 
sciously, in  the  midst  of  these  cruelties,  wounded 
Bambridge  with  a  shoemaker's  knife.  For  an 
application  to  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  Sir 
William  had  to  pay  ;£i4,  the  motion  costing  him 
£2  13s.  7d.  In  another  case  the  prisoner  paid, 
at  his  entrance  into  the  Fleet,  to  judges'  clerks, 
tipstaff,  and  warden,  ^£4^  i6s. 

Although  the  rascally  Huggins  and  the  wretch 
Bambridge  escaped  with  a  fright  and  a  short  im- 
prisonment, there  is  no  doubt  this  Parliamentary 
inquiry  eventually  led  to  reforms  in  this  vilely- 
managed  prison.  A  picture  by  Hogarth  of  the 
Fleet  Prison  Committee  was  that  painter's  first 
real  step  to  popularity.  Sir  James  Thornhill  pro- 
bably obtained  his  son-in-law  permission  to  sketch 
the  scene,  of  which  Horace  Walpole  says  :— 

"The  scene  is  the  committee.  On  the  table 
are  the  instruments  of  torture,  A  prisoner  in  rags, 
half-starved,  appears  before  them.  The  poor  man 
has  a  good  countenance,  that  adds  to  the  interest.  • 
On  the  other  hand  is  the  inhuman  gaoler.  It  is 
the  very  figure  that  Salvator  Rosa  would  have 
drawn  for  lago  in  the  moment  of  detection. 
Villainy,  fear,  and  conscience  are  mixed  in  yellow 
and  livid  on  his  countenance.  His  lips  are  con- 
tracted by  tremor,  his  face  advaiices  as  eager  to 
lie,  his  legs  step  back  as  thinking  to  make  his 
escape.  One  hand  is  thrust  precipitately  into  his 
bosom,  the  fingers  of  the  other  are  catching  imcer- 
tainly  at  his  button-holes.  If  this  was  a  portrait, 
it  is  the  most  striking  that  ever  was  drawn ;  if  it 
was  not,  it  is  still  finer," 


468      4- 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Fleet  Prison. 


The  poef-Thomson,  io  his  "  jleasons,"  finds  an 
opportunity  to  eulogise  Mr.  Oglethorpe,  whose 
generous  hatred  of  cruelty  led  to  the  formation  of 
the  Fleet  Committee.  With  his  usual  high-toned 
enthusiasm  for  what  is  good,  the  poet  sings  : — 


mitted  here,  as  at  another  public-house.  The 
samtf  may  be  seen  in  many  other  prisons  where  the 
gaoler  keeps  or  lets  the  tap.  Besides  the  incon- 
venience of  this  to  prisoners,  the  frequenting  a 
prison  lessens  the  dread  of  being  confined  in  one. 


THE  LAST   REMAINS   OF  THE  FLEET  PRISON. 


"And  here  can  I  forget  the  generous  band 
Who,  touch'd  with  human  woe,  redressive  search'd 
Into  the  horrors  of  the  gloomy  jail, 
Unpitied  and  unheard,  where  Misery  moans, 
Where  Sickness  pines,  where  Thirst  and  Hunger  bum. 
And  poor  Misfortune  feels  the  lash  of  vice  ? 

Howard,  the  philanthropist,  describes  the  Fleet 
as  an  ill-managed  prison,  even  in  1776. 

"The  prisoners,"  he  says,  "play  in  the  court- 
yard at  skittles,  mississippi,  fives,  tennis,  &c.  And 
not  only  the  prisoi^ers.  I  saw  among  them  several 
butchers  and  others  from  the  market,  who  are  ad- 


On  Monday  night  there  was  a  wine  club;  on 
Thursday  night  a  beer  club ;  each  lasting  usually 
till  one  or  two  in  the  morning.  I  need  not  say 
how  much  riot  these  occasion,  and  how  the  sober 
prisoners,  and  those  that  are  sick,  are  annoyed  by 
them.  "  Seeing  the  prison  crowded  with  women 
and  children,  I  procured  an  accurate  list  of  them, 
and  found  that  on  (or  about)  the  6th  April,  1776, 
there  were  on  the  Master's  Side  2.1.3  prisoners,  on 
the  Common  Side  30,  total  243  ;  their  wives  and 
children  were  475." 


The  Fleet  Prison.] 


THE    LIBERTY    QF    THE    RULES." 


409 


The  Fleet  after  the  fire  of  1780  was  rebuilt  on 
the  old  plan.  The  floors  of  the  cellar,  -the  hall, 
and  the  first  storey  were  stone,  and  arched  with 
brick.  The  tapster  still  had  all  the  cellar-floor. 
He  and  several  of  the  prisoners  kept  dogs.  The 
biUiard  and  mississippi  tables  were,  however,  put 
down,  and  the  little  code  of  laws  (referred  to  by- 
Howard),  was  aboHshed. 

The  "  little  code  of  laws,"  eighteen  in  number, 
enacted  by  the    Master-Side  debtors,  and. printed 


before  eight,  and  to  light  the  lamps  all  over  the 
house.  No  person  was  to  throw  out  water,  &c. 
anywhere  but  at  the  sinks  in  the  yard.  The  crier 
might  take  of  a  stranger  a  penny  for  caUing  a 
prisoner  to  him,  and  of  a  complainant  twopence  for 
summoning  a  special  committee.  For  blasphemy, 
swearing,  riot,  drunkenness,  &c.,  the  committee 
was  to  fine  at  discretion.  For  damaging  a  lamp  the 
fine  was  a  shilling.  They  were  to  take  from  a  new 
comer,  on  the  first  Sunday,  besides  the  two  shillings, 


A  WEDDING   IN   THE   FLEET. 


{^From  a  Print  of  the  Early  Part  of  the  Eighteenth  Century.) 


by  D.  Jones,  1774,  established  a  president,  a 
secretary,  and  a  committee,  which  was  'to  be 
chosen  every  month,  and  was  to  consist  of  three 
members  from  each  gallery.  These  were  to  meet 
in  the  committee-room  every  Thursday,  and  at 
other  times  when  summoned  by  the  crier,  at  com- 
mand of  the  president,  or  of  a  majority  of  their 
own  number.  They  were  to  raise  contributions 
by  assessment ;  to  hear  complaints,  determine 
disputes,  levy  fines,  and  seize  goods  for  payment. 
Their 'sense  was  to  be  deemed  the  sense  of  the 
whole  house.  The  president  or  secretary  was  to 
hold  the  cash,  the  committee  to  dispose  of  it. 
Their  scavenger  was  to  wash  the  galleries  once  a 
week,  to  water  and  sweep  them  every  morning 
83-VoL.  IL 


"garnish,''  to  be  spent  in  wine",  one  shilling  and 
sixpence,  to  be  afl^Topriated  to  the  use  of  the 
house.  Common -side  prisoners  were  to  be  con- 
fined to  their  own  apartments,  and  not  to  associate 
with  these  law-makers. 

"The  liberty  of  the  rules,  and  the  '  day  rules'  of 
the  Fleet,  may  be  traced,"  Says  Mr.  Timbs,  "  to  the 
time  of  Richard  II.,  when  prisoners  were  allowed 
to  go  at  large  by  bail,  or  with  a  'baston'  (tipstaff), 
for  nights  and  days  together.  This  licence  was 
paid  at  eightpence  per  day,  and  twelvef)ence  for 
his  keeper  that  shall  be  with  him.  These  were 
day  rules.  However,  they  were  confirmed  by  a 
rule  of  court  during  the  reign  of  James  I.  The 
rules  wherein  prisoners  were  allov.-ed  to  lodge  v.-ere 


410 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Fleet  Prison. 


enlarged  in  1824,  so  as  to  include  the  churches  of 
St.  Bride's  and  St.  Martin's,  Ludgate ;  New  Bridge 
Street,  Blackfriars,  to  the  Thames;  Dorset  Street 
and  Salisbury  Square;    and  part  of  Fleet  Street, 
Ludgate  Hill,  and  Ludgat^  Street,  to  the  entrance 
of  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  the  Old  Bailey,  and  the 
lanes,  courts,  &c.,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  above ;  the 
extreme  circumference  of  the  liberty  being  about  a 
mile  and  a  half     Those  requiring  the  rules  had  to 
provide  sureties  for  their  forthcoming  and  keeping 
within  the  boundaries,  and  to  pay  a  per-centage  on 
the  amount  of  debts  for  which  they  were  detained, 
which  also  entitled  them  to  the  liberty  of  the  day 
rules,  enabling  them  during  term,  or  the  sitting  of 
the  courts  at  Westminster,  to  go  abroad  during  the 
day,  to  transact  or  arrange  their  affairs,  &c.     The 
Fleet  and  the  Queen's  Bench  were  the  only  prisons 
in  the  kingdom  to  which  these  privileges  had  for 
centuries   been  attached."     For  certain  payments 
favoured  prisoners  were  allowed  to  be  long  absent ; 
and  Mr.  Dickens  tells  a  story  of  one  old  resident, 
whose  heaviest  punishment  was  being  locked  out 
for  the  night. 

The  Fleet  was  ons^of  the  prisons  burnt  by  the 
insane  rioters  of  Lord  George  Gordon's  mo5,  in 
1780.  The  poHte  rioters  sent  a  notice  the  night 
before  that  the  work  must  be  done,  but  delayed 
it  some  hours,  at  the  request  of  their  restricted 
friends.  The  papers  of  the  time  mention  only  one 
special  occurrence  during  the  fire,  and  that  was  the 
behaviour  of  a  ringleader  dressed  like  a  chimney 
sweep,  whom  every  one  seems  to  have  insisted  on 
dubbing  a  nobleman  in  disguise ;  or  if  not  himself 
a  nobleman,  says  a  writer  in  the  Gentlemaiis  Maga- 
zine, an  agent,  at  least,  entrusted  with  his  purse, 
to  enhstoconspirators  and  promote  sedition.  This 
quasi-nobleman  had,  however,  more  of  foolhardiness 
than  cunning  in  his  composition,  for  he  perched  him- 
self upon  the  tiles  of  the  market-house,  over  against 
the  Fleet  Prison,  as  a  mark  for  the.  soldiers  to  shoot 
at ;  and  as  he  wag  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  roof 
to  that  where  they  were  posted,  at  every  discharge 
he  popped  up  his  head  and  assailed  them  with 
tiles,  till  a  ball  passing  through  the  roof  lodged  in 
his  heart  and  tumbled  him  down.  He  had  gold 
in  his  pockets,  it  is  true,  but  he  had  no  com- 
mission, nor  was  he  any  other  than  a  pilfering  thief, 
who  had  well  lined  his  pockets  in  what  to  him  was 
a  fair  way  of  trade. 

In  the  seventeenth  and  early  part  of  the  eighteenth 
centuries  couples  desiring  .to  be  secretly  married 
came  to  the  Fleet  and  King's  Bench  prisons,  where 
degraded  clergymen  could  easily  be  found  among 
the  herd  of  debtors  to  perform  the  ceremony. 

In  Charles  I.'s  time  a  chape]  ia  tie  Tower  (in 


the  White  Tower)  was  a  favourite  place  for  clan- 
destine marriages.  On  Archbishop  Laud  stopping 
these  illegal  practices,  hurried  lovers  then  betook 
themselves  to  one  of  two  churches  at  the  east  end 
of  London — St.  James's,  Duke's  Place,  or  Trinity,  in  ' 
the  Minories.  A  register  of  marriages  preserved  at 
the  former  church  proves  that  in  twenty-seven  years 
from  1664  nearly  40,000  marriages  were  celebrated. 
The  fee  seems  to  have  fluctuated  from  between  two 
crowns  to  a  guinea. 

The  Fleet  Chapel  was  used  for  debtors'  mar- 
riages till  1686,  when  the  incumbent  of  St.  James's, 
Duke's  Place,  Aldgate,  being  suspended  by  the 
Commissioners  for  Ecclesiastical  Causes,  made  it 
too  popular  as  a  place  for  secret  marriages;  and 
the  chapel  becoming  the  haunt  of  dangerous 
lookers-dta,  the  degraded  clergymen  of  the  prison  ♦ 
anti  neighbourhood  began  to  celebrate  secret  mar- 
riages in  rooms  of  adjoining  taverns,  or  in  private 
houses  adjacent  to  Fleet  Street,  Ludgate  Hill,  and  • 
the  Mint,  keeping  registers,  to  give  an  appearance 
of  legality,  and  employing  touts,  to  attract  and 
bring  in  victims. 

Mr.  J.  C.  Jeaffreson,  in  his  valuable  work,  "Brides 
and  Bridals,"  has  taken  great  pains  with  this  subject 
of  Fleet  parsons,  and  has  ransacked  all  possible 
books,  old  or  new,  for  information  about  them. 

"Scanty  particulars,"  he  says,  "have  been  pre- 
served of  about  forty  persons  who  were  keepers  of 
marrying-houses.  Some  of  these  persons  were  turn- 
keys, or  subordinate  oflScials,  in  the  Fled:  Prison, 
like  Bartholomew  Bassett,  who  was  clerk  of  the 
Fleet  Chapel,  and  tenant,  at  the  exorbitant  rent  of 
£,\oo,  of  the  Fleet  cellars,  where  marriages  were 
solemnised 'secretly.  It  was  at  Bassett's  office,  or 
private  chapel,  that  Beau  Fielding  married  his  first 
wife,  before  he  fixed  his  affections  on  the  Duchess 
of  Cleveland.  A  few  of  the  forty  negotiators  in 
wedlock  were  women,  who  had  come  into  possession 
of  a  register  and  marrying  business  by  inheritance. 
Most  of  them,  however,  had  in*the  first  instance 
been  simple  innkeepers,  supplying  the  public  with 
adulterated  liquors  before  they  entered  the  matri- 
monial trade. 

"Standing  in  the  chief  thoroughfares  or  side-alleys 
and  by-yards  of  the  Fleet  quarter,  their  taverns 
had  signs,  some  of  which  still  pertain  to  hostelries 
of  the  locality.  For  instance  :  '  The  Cock,'  near 
Fleet  Bridge,  and  'The  Rainbow'  Coffee  House, 
at  the  corner  of  Fleet  Ditch,  were  famous  manying- 
houses,  with  signs  honourably  known  at  the  present 
day  to  frequenters  of  Fleet  Street  taverns.  The 
'Cock  and  Acorn,'  the  'Fighting  Cocks,'  the 
'  Shepherd  and  Goat,''  the  '  Golden  Lion,'  the 
'Bishop  Blaze,'  the  'Two  Lawyers,'  the  'Wheat- 


The  Fleet  Prison.] 


FLEET   MARRIAGES. 


411 


sheaf,'  the  '  Horseshoe  and  Magpie,'  the  '  King's 
Head,'  the  'Lamb,'  the  'Swan,'  the  'Hoop  and 
Bunch  of  Grapes,'  were  some  of  the  taverns  in  or 
near  Fleet  Street  and  Fleet  Market,  provided  with 
chaplains  and  chapels,  or  private  rooms,  in  which 
marriages  were  solemnised  on  every  day  and  night 
of  the  year.  William  Wyatt — brother  of  the  noto- 
rious and  very  successful  Fleet  parson,  Walter  Wyatt 
— ^was  landlord,  first  of  a  public-house  in  Sea  Coal 
Lane,  and  afterwards  of  the  '  New  Market  House,' 
Fleet  Lane,  in  both  of  which  houses  he  drove  a 
great  trade,  and  flourished  under  his  stately  brother's 
patronage.  The  '  Hand  and  Pen  '  was  a  sign  which 
proved  so  attractive  to  the  generality  of  spouses, 
that  after  it  had  brought  success  in  trade  to  one 
house,  competitors  of  the  original  '  Hand  and  Pen ' 
public-house  adopted  it.  Joshua  Lilley's  'Hand 
and  Pen'  stood  near  Fleet  Bridge;  Matthias 
Wilson's  '  Hand  and  Pen '  looked  out  on  the  Fleet 
Ditch ;  John  Burnford's  '  Hand  and  Pen '  kept 
open  door  at  the  foot  of  Ludgate  Hill ;  and  Mrs. 
Balls  had  her  '  Hand  and  Pen '  office  and  registry 
of  marriages  within  sight  of  the  other  three  esta- 
blishments of  the  same  name.  When  Ben  the 
Bunter  married  fair  Kitty  of  Kent  Street,  he  went 
to  the  '  Hand  and  Pen,'  and  was  fast  bound  to  his 
damsel  by  a  stout  and  florid  clergyman,  for  the 
moderate  fee  of  half-a-crown." 

A  collection  by  some  enthusiastic  collector  on 
this  subject  exists  at  the  British  Museum ;  he  has 
illustrated  a  small  poem  called  "  The  Humours  of 
the  Fleet,"  with  many  sketches  of  the  low  prison 
life.  The  following  quotations  paint  the  Fleet 
parson,  and  the  noisy  touts  who  wrangled  for  each 
new  arrival,  in  bold  colours  : — 

"  Scarce  had  the  coach  discharged  its  trusty  fare, 
But  gaping  crowds  surround  th'  amorous  pair ; 
The  busy  plyers  make  a  mighty  stir, 
And  whispering  cry,  '  D'ye  want  the  parson,  sir  ? 
Pray  step  this  way — just  to  the  "  Pen  in  Hand," 
The  doctor's  ready  there  at  your  command. ' 
'This  way!'  another  cries.     '  Sir,  I  declare, 
The  true  and  ancient  register  is  here. ' 
The  alanned  parsons  quickly  hear  the  din, 
And  haste  with  soothing  words  to  invite  'em  in. 
In  this  confusion,  jostled  to  and  fro, 
The  inamoured  couple  know  not  where  to  go. 
Till  slow. advancing  from  the  coach's  side. 
The  experienced  matron  came  (an  artful  guide); 
She  led  the  way  without  regarding  either, 
And  the  first  parson  spliced  'era  both  together. 

Where  lead  my  wandering  footsteps  now? — the  Fleet 

Presents  her  tattered  sons  in  Luxury's  cause ; 

Here  venerable  crape  and  scarlet  cheeks, 

With  nose  of  purple  hue,  high,  eminent, 

And  squinting,  leering  looks,  now  strikes  the  eye. 

B— s — p  of  hell,  once  in  the  precincts  call'd, 

Renown'd  for  making  thoughtless  contracts,  here 


He  reigned  in  bloated  majesty. 

And  passed  in  sottishness  and  smoke  his  time. 

Revered  by  gin's  adorers  and  the  tribe 

Who  pass  in  brawls,  lewd  jests,  and  drink,  their  days ; 

Sons  of  low  growling  riot  and  debauch. 

Here  cleric  grave  from  Oxford  ready  stands, 

Obsequious  to  conclude  the  Gordian  knot, 

Entwin'd  beyond  all  dissolution  sure  ; 

A  regular  this  from  Cambridge  ;  both  alike 

In  artful  stratagem  to  tye  the  noose, 

While  women,  '  Do  you  want  the  parson?'  cry." 

A  writer  (May  29,  1736)  gives  the  following 
account  of  what  he  witnessed  during  a  walk  through 
the  Fleet  quarter : — "  Gentlemen,  having  frequently 
heard  of  the  many  abominable  practices  of  the 
Fleet,  I  had  the  curiosity,  on  Sunday,  May  23rd, 
to  take  a  view  of  the  place  as  I  was  acciden- 
tally passing  by.  The  first  thing  observed  was  one 
J.  L.,  by  trade  a  carpenter  (whose  brother,  it  is 
said,  keeps  the  sign  of  the  B.  and  G.),  cursing  and 
swearing,  and  raving  in  the  streets,  in  the  time  of 
Divine  service,  with  a  mob  of  people  about  him, 
calling  one  of  his  fraternity  (J.  E.),  a  plyer  for  wed- 
dings, an  informing  rogue,  for  informing  against 
one  of  their  ministers  for  profane  cursing  and 
swearing,  for  which  he  paid  three  pounds  odd 
money ;  the  hearing  of  which  pleased  me  much, 
since  I  could  find  one  in  that  notorious  place 
which  had  some  spark  of  grace  left  ;  as  was  mani- 
fested by  the  dislike  he  showed  to  the  person  that 
was  guilty  of  fhe  profanation  of  God's  sacred  name. 
When  the  riot  was  dispersed,  I  walked  about  some 
small  time,  and  saw  a  person  exceedingly  well 
dressed  in  a  flowered  morning  gown,  a  band,  hat, 
and  wig,  who  appeared  so  clean  that  I  took  him  for 
some  worthy  divine  who  might  accidentally  have 
come  out  of  the  country,  and  as  accidentally  be 
making  the  same  remarks  with  myself;  but  upon 
inquiry,  was  surprised  at  being  assured  that  he  was 
one  T.  C,  a  watchmaker,  who  goes  in  a  minister's 
dress,  personating  a  clergyman,  and  taking  upon 
him  the  name  of  '  Doctor,'  to  the  scandal  of  the 
sacred  function.  He  may  be  seen  at  any  time  at 
the  'Bull  and  Garter,'  or  the  great  'Hand  and 
Pen,'  with  these  words  written,  '  The  Old  and  True 
Register,'  near  the  '  Rainbow '  Coffee  House. 
Please  to  give  this  a  place  in  your  paper,  and  you 
will  not  only  oblige  one  of  your  constant  readeis, 
but  may  prevent  many  innocent  persons  from 
being  ruined.  I  am,  gentlemen,  your  humble 
servant,  T.  L." 

The  Rev.  Alexander  Keith,  who  had  been 
reader  at  the  Rolls  Chapel,  and  afterwards  incum- 
bent of  a  Mayfair  proprietary  chapel,  a  great  place 
for  illegal  marriages,  on  being  suspended,  excom- 
municated, and  committed  to  Fleet  Prison  for  con- 


412 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Fleet  Prison. 


tempt,  in  1743,  wi-ote  a  pamphlet  to  defend  his 
conduct.  The  following  extract  gives  some  curious 
examples  of  the  sort  of  reckless  and  shameless 
marriages  that  were  contracted  : — 

"As  I  have  married  many  thousands,  and,  con- 
sequently, have  on  those  occasions  seen  the 
humour  of  the  lower  class  of  people,  I  have  often 
asked  the  married  pair  how  long  they  have  been 
acquainted.  They  would  reply,  some  mSre,  some 
less,  but  the  generality  did  not  exceed  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  week,  some  only  of  a  day — half  a  day. 
.  .  .  .  Another  inconveniency  which  will  arise 
from  this  Act  will  be,  that  the  expense  of  being 
married  will  be  so  great,  that  few  of  the  lower  class 
of  people  can  afford  it ;  for  I  have  often  heard 
a  Fleet  parson  say  that  many  have  come  to  be 
married  when  they  have  had  but  half-a-crown  in 
their  pockets,  and  sixpence  to  buy  a  pot  of  beer,  and 
for  which  they  have  pawned  some  of  their  clothes. 
.  .  .  .  I  remember,  once  upon  a  time,  I  was 
at  a  public-house  at  Radclifif,  which  was  then  full  of 
sailors  and  their  girls.  There  was  fiddling,  piping, 
jigging,  and  eating.  At  length  one  of  the  tars  starts 
up  and  says,  '  — —  me,  Jack,  I'll  be  married 
just  now;  I  will  have  my  partner!'  The  joke 
took,  and  in  less  than  two  hours  ten  couple  set  out 
for  the  Fleet.  I  stayed  their  return.  They  re- 
turned in  coaches,  five  women  in  each  coach ;  the 
tars,  some  running  before,  others  riding  on  the 
coach-box,  and  others  behind.  The  cavalcade 
being  over,  the  couples  went  up  into  an  upper 
room,  where  they  conclujded  the  evening  with  great 
jollity.  The  next  time  I  went  that  way,  I  called 
on  my  landlord  and  asked  him  concerning  this 
marriage  adventure.  He  at  first  stared  at  me,  but, 
recollecting,  he  said  those  things  were  so  frequent, 
that  he  hardly  took  any  notice  of  them.  '  For,' 
added  he,  'it  is  a  common  thing,  when  a  fleet 
comes  in,  to  have  two  or  three  hundred  marriages 
in  a  week's  time  among  the  sailors.'  .... 
If  the  present  Act,  in  the  form  it  now  stands, 
should  (which  I  am  sm'e  is  impossible)  be  of  any 
service  to  my  country,  I  shall  then  have  the  satis- 
faction of  having  been  the  occasion  of  it,  because 
the  compilers  thereof  have  done  it  with  a  pure 
design  of  suppressing  niy  chapel,  which  makes  me 
the  most  celebrated  man  in  this  kingdom,  though 
not  the  greatest."  (  Vide  Keith's  "  Observations  on 
the  Act  for  Preventing  Clandestine  Marriages.") 

"  One  of  these  comparatively  fortunate  offenders 
against  the  canons,"  says  Mr.  Jeaffreson,  whom  we 
have  before  quoted,  "  iVas  the  stately  Dr.  Gaynam, 
who  lived  for  many  years  in  Bride  Lane,  and  never 
walked  down  Fleet  Street  in  his  silk  gown  and 
bands  without  drawing  attention  to  his  commanding 


figure,  and  handsome  though  significantly  rubicund 
face.  Nothing  ever  put  the  doctor  out  of  humour 
or  countenance.  He  was  on  several  occasions  re- 
quired to  bring  one  of  his  marriage  registers  to  the 
Old  Bailey,  and  give  evidence  in  a  trial  for  bigamy ; 
but  no  gentleman  of  the  long  robe  ever  disturbed 
the  equanimity  of  the  shameless  ecclesiastic,  who, 
smiling  and  bowing  courteously  to  his  questioner, 
answered,  '  Video  meliora,  deteriora  sequor,'  when 
an  advocate  asked  him,  'Are  you  not  ashamed 
to  come  and  own  a  clandestine  marriage  in  the 
face  of  a  court  of  justice  ?'  Even  when  Walter 
Chandler  beat  him  with  a  stick,  the  doctor  took 
his  caning  with  well-bred  composure.  The  popular 
nickname  of  the  doctor  declared  him  the  bishop  of 
an  extremely  hot  diocese,  but  his  manner  and 
language  were  never  deficient  in  coolness. 
***** 

"  Mr.  John  Mottram,  who  bore  for  his  arms  a 
chevron  argent,  charged,  with  three  roses  between 
three  crosslets,  or,'  used  to  marry  couples  within 
the  walls  of  the  Fleet,  not  in  the  chapel  of  the 
prison,  but  '  in  a  room  of  the  Fleet  they  called  the 
Lord  Mayor's  Chapel,  which  was  furnished  with 
chairs,  cushions,  and  proper  conveniences.'  It  is 
recorded  in  the  Weekly  Jotirnal,  respecting  this 
establishment  for  weddings,  '  that  a  coalheaver  was 
generally  set  to  ply  at  the  door,  to  recommend  all 
couples  that  had  a  mind  to  be  marry'd,  to  the 
prisoner,  who  would  do  it  cheaper  than  anybody.' 
Mr.  Mottram  could  afford  to  be  moderate  in  his 
charges,  for  he  transacted  an  enormous  amount  of 
business.  From  one  of  its  registers,  it  appears 
that  he  married  more  than  2,200  couples  in  a 
single  year.  He  was  a  very  obliging  gentleman, 
and  never  declined  to  put  on  a  certificate  of  mar- 
riage the  date  that  was  most  agreeable  to  the 
feelings  of  the  bride.  On  the  occasion  of  his  trial 
at  the  Guildhall,  in  17 17,  before  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Parker,  it  appeared  that  this  accommodating  spirit 
had  caused  him  to  enrich  certificates  of  his  own 
penmanship  with  dates  prior  to  the  day  of  his  own 
ordination.  Convicted  of  solemnising  marriages 
unlawfully,  Mr.  Mottram  was  fined  ;£2oo ;  but  this 
misadventure  did  not  deter  him  from  persevering 
in  his  practices." 

Lando  was  another  of  these  rascals.  "  Whoever 
thinks  meanly,"  says  the  author  of  "Brides  and 
Bridals,"  "  of  the  Reverend  John  Lando,  whilom 
Chaplain  to  His  Majesty's  ship  The  Falkland, 
holds  an  opinion  at  variance  with  that  gentieman's 
estimate  of  himself  5  for  Mr.  Lando  used  to  infomi 
the  readers  of  newspaper  advertisements  that  he 
was  a  '  gentleman,'  who  had  '  gloriously  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  defence  of  his  king  and 


The  Fleet  Prison.] 


MR.    PICKWICK  IN  THE  FLEET  PRISON. 


413 


country,'  amd  that  he  was  'determined  to  have 
everything  conducted  with  the  utmost  decency 
and  regularity '  at  his  place  of  business,  '  the  New 
Chapel,  next  to  the  china  shop,  near  Fleet  Bridge, 
London.  His  charge  for  officiating  at  a  wedding, 
and  providing  the  happy  couple  with  a  'certificate 
and  crown  stamp,'  was  a  guinea.  He  '  was  a  regular 
bred  clergyman,'  in  spite  of  the  calumnious  insinua- 
tions of  his  rivals  ;  and  he  was  '  above  committing 
those  little  mean  actions  that  some  men  impose  on 
people.'  In  his  zeal  for  the  welfare  of  society, 
he  taught  young  people  Latin  and  French  at  his 
chapel  three  times  a  week." 

But  how  can  we  leave  this  den  of  misery  and 
infamy  without  reminding  our  readers  that  some 
years  ago  a  respectable  inhabitant  of  Goswell 
Street,  through  the  disgraceful  duplicity  of  a  person 
named  Bardell,  a  lodging-house  keeper,  and  the 
shameful  chicariery  of  two  pettifogging  lawyers 
named  Dodson  and  Fogg,  spent  many  months 
among  the  sordid  population  of  the  Fleet  ?  Need 
we  say  that  the  stout  and  respectable  gentleman 
we  refer  to  was  no  other  than  the  celebrated  Mr. 
Pickwick  ?  On  no  occasion  has  Mr.  CSiarles 
Dickens  sketched  a  part  of  London  with  mpre 
eamest  and  triithful  care. 

"These  staircases,"  says  Mr.  Dickens,  de- 
scribing what  first  met  Mr.  Pickwick's  eye  when 
he  arrived  at  the  Fleet,  "received  light  from 
sundry  windows  placed  at  some  little  distance 
above  the  floor,  and  looking  into  a  gravelled  area 
bounded  by  a  high  brick  wall,  with  iron  ckevaux- 
de-fnse  at  the  top.  This  area,  it  appeared  from 
Mr.  Roker's  statement,  was  the  racket-ground ; 
and  it  further  appeared,  on  the  testimony  of  the 
same  gentleman,  that  there  was  a  smaller  area, 
in  that  portion  of  the  prison  which  was  nearest 
Farringdon  Street,  denominated  and  called  'the 
Painted  Ground,'  from  the  fact  of  its  walls  having 
once  displayed  the  semblances  of  various  men- 
of-war  in  full  sail,  and  other  artistical  effects, 
achieved  in  bygone  times  by  some  imprisoned 
draughtsman  in  his  leisure  hours. 

****** 

'■'  It  was  getting  dark,  that  is  to  say,  a  few  gas 
jets  were  kindled  in  this  place,  which  was  never 
light,  by  way  of  compliment  to  the  evening,  which 
had  set  in  outside.  As  it  was  rather  warm,  some 
of  the  tenants  of  the  numerous  little  rooms,  which 
opened  into  the  gallery  on  either  hand,  had  set 
their  doors  ajar.  Mr.  Pickwick  peeped  into  them 
as  he  passed  along,  with  great  curiosity  and  inte- 
rest. Here,  four  or  five  great  hulking  fellews,  just 
visible  through  a  cloud  of  tobacco-smoke,  were 
engaged  in  noisy  and  riotous  conversation  over 


half-emptied  pots  of  beer,  or  playing  at  all-fours 
with  a  very  greasy  pack  of  cards.  In  the  ad- 
joining room  some  solitary  tenant  might  be  seen, 
poring,  by  the  light  of  a  feeble  tallow  candle,  over 
a  bundle  of  soiled  and  tattered  papers,  yellow  with 
dust,  and  dropping  to  pieces  from  age,  writing,  for 
the  hundredth  time,  some  lengthened  statement  of 
his  grievances,  for  the  perusal  of  some  great  man 
whose  eyes  it  would  never  reach,  or  whose  heart  it 
would  never  touch.-  In  a  third,  a  man,  with  his 
wife  and  a  whole  crowd  of  children,  might  be  seen 
making  up  a  scanty  bed  on  the  ground,  or  upon  a 
few  chairs,  for  the  younger  ones  to  pass  the  night 
in.  And  in  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth,  and  a  sixth,  ajid  a 
seventh,  the  noise,  and  the  beer,  and  the  tobacco- 
smoke,  and  the  cards,  all  came  over  again  in 
greater  force  than  before. 

"  In  the  galleries  themselves,  and  more  especially 
on  the  staircases,  there  lingered  a  great  number 
of  people,  who  came  there,  some  because  their 
rooms  were  empty  and  lonesome  ;  others  because 
their  rooms  were  full  and  hot;  the  greater  part 
because  they  were  restless  and  uncomfortable, 
and  not  possessed  of  the  secret  of  exactly  knowing 
what  to  do  with  themselves.  There  were  many 
classes  of  people  here,  from  the  labouring  man  in 
his  fustian  jacket,  to  the  broken-down  spendthrift 
in  his  shawl  dressing-gown,  most  appropriately  out 
at  elbows ;  but  there  was  the  same  air  about  them 
all — a  listless,  jail-bird,  careless  swagger,  a  vaga- 
bondish,  who's-afraid  sort  of  bearing — which  is 
wholly  indescribable  in  words ;  but  which  any  man 
can  understand  in  one  moment  if  he  wish,  by  just 
setting  foot  in  the  nearest  delator's  prison,  and 
looking  at  the  very  first  group  of  people  he  sees 
there,  with  the  same  interest  as  Mr.  Pickwick  did. 
is  *  *  *  *  * 

"  In  this  frame  of  mind  he  turned  again  into  the 
coffee-room  gallery,  and  walked  slowly  to  and  fro. 
The  place  was  intolerably  dirty,  and  the  smell  of 
tobacco-smoke  perfectly  suffocating.  There  was  a 
perpetual  slamming  and  banging  of  doors  as  the 
people  went  in  and  out,  and  the  noise  of  their 
voices  and  footsteps  echoed  and  re-echoed  through 
the  passages  constantly.  A  young  woman,  with  a 
child  in  her  arms,  who  seemed  scarcely  able  to 
crawl,  from  emaciation  and  misery,  was  walking 
up  and  down  the  passage  in  conversation  with 
her  husband,  who  had  no  other  place  to .  see 
her  in.  As  they  passed  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  could 
hear  the  female  sob;  and  once  she  burst  into 
such  a  passion  of  grief,  that  she  was  compelled 
to  lean  against  the  wall  for  support,  while  the 
man' took  the  child  in  his  arms  and  tried  to  soothe 
her, 


414 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Fleet  Prison. 


A  chapter  on  the  Fleet  Prison  would  be  incom- 
plete without  some  notice  of  the  more  eminent 
persons  who  have  been  confined  there.  Among 
these  unhappy  illustrious,  we  may  mention  the 
young  poet  Earl  of  Surrey,  who  describes  it  as 
"a  noisome  place,  with  a  pestilent  atmosphere," 
Keys  was  sent  here,  for  daring  to  marry  Lady 
Mary  Grey,  sister  of  the  ill-starred  Lady  Jane ;  Dr. 
Donne,  the  poet,  when  a  private  tutor,  for  secretly 
marrying  the  daughter  of  his  patron,  Sir  George 


by  country  gentlemen  in  Addison's  time,  died 
in  the  Fleet  Prison  (1644-5).  Sir  Richard  was 
sprung  from  a  good  old  Kentish  family,  but  had 
become  security  for  an  embarrassed  father-in-law. 
Wycherly,  the  rake  and  wit,  was  a  prisoner  in  the 
Fleet  seven  years,  but  it  did  not  tame  him  much. 
Francis  Sandford,  author  of  a  genealogical  history 
of  great  research,  died  in  the  Fleet,  in  1693.  Penn 
the  Quaker  founder  of  Pennsylvania,  was  living 
in  the  Rules  of  the  Fleet,  in  1707  (QueerfAnne). 


REMAINS  OF  OLD  HOLBORN  BRIDGE.     (Frovi  a  Sketch  taken  during  the  alterations,  1844,) 


More,  whom  he  had  met  at  Lord  Chancellor 
Ellesmere's ;  Nash,  the  unhappy  poet  and  truculent 
satirist,  for  writing  The  Isle  of  Dogs,  a  libellous 
play;  Sir  Robert  Killigrew  (1613),  for  talking  to 
Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  at  his  prison-gate  at  the 
Tower,  on  returning  from  a  visit  to  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  then  also  buried  alive  in  the  river-side 
fortress,  by  James  I. ;  the  Dowager  Countess  of 
Dorset  (16 10),  for  pressing  into  the  Council 
Chamber,  and  importuning  King  James  I.  Those 
sturdy  martyrs  of  liberty,  Prynne  and  honest  John 
Lilburne,  we  have  already  mentioned.  Sir  Richard 
Baker,  who  wrote  the  "  Chronicle,"  so  much  read 


Penn  was  at  this  titne  in  debt,  from  a  vexatious 
lawsuit  with  the  executors  of  a  quondam  steward. 
He  died  in  17 18.  That  clever  impostor,  Richard 
Savage,  to  be  safe  from  his  raging  creditors,  took 
lodgings  within  the  Liberties  of  the  Fleet,  his 
almost  tired-out  friends  sending  him  an  eleemosy- 
nary guinea  every  Monday.  Parson  Ford,  a  con- 
vivial dissolute  parson,  and  a  relative  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  died  in  the  Fleet,  in  1731,  and  his  ghost, 
it  was  firmly  believed,  appeared  to  a  waiter,  as  he 
was  going  down  to  the  cellar  of  the  old  "  Hum- 
mums,"  in  Covent  Garden.  Robert,  Lloyd,  the 
schoolmaster  friend  of  Churchill,  died  in  the  Fleet 


The  Fleet  Prison.] 


FLEET  CELEBRITIES. 


415 


4i6 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Fleet  River. 


in  1764;  and  here  ended  a  reckless  life,  in  1797, 
Miss  Cornelys,  the  celebrated  keeper  of  masquerade- 
rooms  in  Soho  Square,  in  Hogarth's  time. 

Among  the  secret'  marriages  in  the  Fleet  we 
should  not  forget  Churchill  the  poet,  an  aban- 
doned clergyman,  and  Edward  Wortley  Montague. 


In  1821,  says  Mr.  Timbs,  a  ton's  weight  of  the 
Fleet  register  books  (between  1686  and  1754)  was 
purchased  by  Government,  and  deposited  in  the 
Registry  Office  of  the  Bishop  of  London,  Godliman 
Streetj  Doctors'  Commons.  These  registers  can 
no  longer  be  received  in  evidence  at  trials. 


CHAPTER  L. 

THE  FLEET  RIVER  AND  FLEET  DITCH. 

Origin  of  the  Name — Rise  of  the  Fleet — Its  Course — Early  Impurity— The  Holeburne— Antiquities  found  in  the  Fleet — How  far  Navigable  for 
Ships — Early  mention  of  it — Clearing  of  the  Fleet  Valley— A  Deposit  of  Pins — The  Old  Bridges — Fleet  Bridge — Holbom  Bridge— Historical 
Associations — Discovery  of  the  Arches  of  the  Old  Bridge— Thieves'  Houses — Pope  on  the  "  Fleet " — The  River  arched  over — Floods  on  the 
Fleet— Disaster  in  1846 — The  Fleet  under  the  Main  Drainage  System — Dangers  of  Exploring  the  Sewer — A  Strange  Denizen  of  the  Ditch— 
Turnmill  Street  and  the  Thieves'  Quarter — West  Street — Chick  Lane — The  Old  "Red  Lion"  known  as  "Jonathan  Wild's  House." 

The  name  of  this  ill-used  stream,  once  fresh  and 
fleet,  now  a  mere  sluggish  and  plague-breeding 
sewer,  is  traced  by  some  to  the  Anglo-Saxon 
fleotan,  "to  float;''  and  by  others,  to  the  Saxon 
fieot,  or  flod,  "  a  flood."  The  sources  of  the  river 
Fleet  are  on  the  high  lands  of  Hampstead  and 
Highgate,  and  the  chief  of  them  rise  near  Caen 
Wood.  The  Fleet  was  fed  by  the  Oldborne,  which 
rose,  says  Stow,  "  where  now  the  Bars  do  stand," 
and  ran  down  to  Old  Borne  Bridge,  and  into  the 
River  of  Wells  or  Turnmill  Brook.  The  Fleet 
was  also  fed  by  all  the  springs  of  Clerkenwell, 
such  as  Clerkenwell  itself.  Skinner's  Well,  Fogg's 
Well,  Tod's  Well,  Loder's  Well,  Rad  Well  (near 
the  Charterhouse),  and  the  Horse  Pool,  at  Smith- 
field. 

"The  principal  spring  of  the  Fleet,''  says  Mr. 
Pinks,  "  rises  in  a  secluded  lane  at  the  rear  of  Caen 
Wood,  the  seat  of  Lord  Mansfield ;  another  is  on 
the  left  of  a  footpath  leading  thence  to  Highgate  j 
and  the  tiny  brooklet  formed  by  its  waters  com- 
municates by  a  small  arch  with  a  reservoir,  the  first 
of  seven  storage-ponds,  on  different  levels,  belong- 
ing to  the  Hampstead  Water  Company.  Another 
of  the  spring-heads  rises  in  the  midst  of  Caen 
Wood.  All  three  springs  are  diverted  so  as  to  fill 
the  reservoirs  above  mentioned,  a  small  stream 
carrying  off"  the  redundant  water,  which  is  very 
trifling,  except  in  wet  seasons.  A  fourth  spring 
flows  from  the  Vale  of  Health,  at  Hampstead,  in  a 
narrow  channel,  to  another  of  the  reservoirs,  which 
are  connected  by  means  of  large  pipes  passing  from 
one  to  another.  At  a  lower  level  the  main  stream 
meanders  through  the  fields  between  Haverstock 
Hill  and  Kentish  Town,  in  a  wide,  deep,  and 
rugged  channel,  indicating  that  a  considerable 
body  of  water  must  have  originally  flowed  through 
it  with  a  rapid  current.    The  name  of  Kentish 


Town,  which  was  formerly  a  mere  country  village, 
is  supplied  by  tradition,  which  ascribes  its  origin 
to  the  place  being  situated  on  the  bank  of  a  stream 
(the  river  Fleet)  which  rose  among  the  hills  about 
Caen  or  Ken  Wood,  and  which  was  formerly  called 
Ken  or  Caen  Ditch,  hence  Ken  Ditch  Town,  the 
Town  of  Ken  Ditch,  or  Kentish  Town.  But  the 
correctness  of  this  etymology  has  been  questioned 
by  at  least  one  historian.  The  Fleet  passes  on 
through  Kentish  Town,  its  course  there  being  much 
hidden,  and,  flowing  in  a  south-east  direction,  it 
passes  under  the  Regent's  Canal  to  St.  Pancras, 
where,  until  the  year  1766,  when  it  was  arched 
over,  it  bore  the  name  of  Pancras  Wash.  Running 
at  the  foot  of  the  gardens  in  the  rear  of  the  houses 
in  the  Old  St.  Pancras  Road,  it  arrives  at  Battle 
Bridge,  and  so  makes  its  entrance  into  Clerken- 
well. Following  the  line  of  the  Bagnigge  Wells 
Road,  its  covered  course  nearly  coincides  with 
the  parochial  boundary  in  this  direction.  Passing 
in  an  artificial  channel  alongside  the  western 
boundary  wall  of  the  House  of  Correction,  its 
course  lies  beneath  the  valley  between  Tummill 
Street  and  Saffron  Hill ;  thence,  under  Farringdon 
Street  and  Bridge  Street,  emptying  itself  into  the 
Thames  on  the  western  side  of  Blackfriars  Bridge." 
It  was  called  "the  River  of  Wells"  as  early  as 
the  days  of  William  the  Conqueror. 

The  Fleet  seems  early  to  have  become  impure, 
and  hardly  fit  to  drink,  for,  in  1290  (Edward  I.), 
the  prior  of  a  Carmelite  house  in  Whitefriars  com- 
plained of  the  noxious  exhalations,  the  miasma  of 
which  had  killed  many  of  the  hooded  brethren, 
and  the  corruption  of  which  overpowered  the 
odours  of  the  incense.  The  Black  Friars  and  the 
Bishop  of  Salisbury,  whose  palace  was  in  Salisbury  1 
Court,  Fleet  Street,  also  signed  the  same  doleful 
petition.     Mr.   Pinks,  with  whom  we  do  not  in 


The  Fleet  River.] 


ANTIQUITIES  OF  THE   RIVER  FLEET. 


417 


this  case  altogether  agree,  thinks  that  the  Fleet 
was  called  the  Holeburne,  or  burne  of  the  Hollow, 
above  Holbom  Bridge ;  and  the  Fleet,  between 
Holborn  Bridge  and  its  embouchure.  The  Hole- 
burne is  distinctly  mentioned  in  Domesday  Book. 

In  the  register  of  the  Nunnery  of  St.  Mary, 
Clerkenwell,  of  the  time  of  Richard  I.  or  John, 
the  oldest  cartulary  extant,  mention  is  made  of 
a  meadow  near  Holeburne,  and  of  a  ditch  that  led 
from  Holeburne  to  the  mill  of  the  nuns.  The 
garden  of  the  Hospitallers  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem 
was  also  situated  upon  the  Holeburne,  thus  per- 
fectly proving,  says  an  ingenious  writer  in  the 
Gentleman's  Magazine  for  1856,  that  Holeburne 
was  only  another  name  for  that  venerable  and 
injured  stream,  the  Fleet,  the  southern  part  of  it, 
the  mere  embouchure  (between  Holborn  Bri'dge 
and  the  Thames),  probably  always  maintaining  the 
name  of  Fleet,  or  Flood.  Stow  is  therefore  incor- 
rect in  his  description  of  the  imaginary  stream,  the 
old  Bourne. 

The  same  acute  writer,  who  signs  himself 
"T.  E.  T.,"  shows,  also,  that  the  word  "Flete," 
referring  to  a  special  limited  place,  is  used  in  the 
ancient  book  of  the  Templars'  lands  (1185)  now 
in  the  Record  Office ;  and  the  word  "  Flete  Hithe," 
in  the  ancient  "  Liber  A,  sive  Pilosus;"  while  in  the 
first  of  King  John,  the  Templars  received  the  grant 
of  a  place  upon  the  Flete,  near  Castle  Baynard,  to 
enable  them  to  construct  a  mill,  which  was  re- 
moved in  the  reign  of  Edward  I.,  on  the  complaint 
of  Henry  Lacy,  Earl  of  Lincoln,  that  it  had  lessened 
the  breadth  and  depth  of  water  under  Holeburne 
Bridge  and  Fleet  Bridge  into  the  Thames.  The 
holes  that  gave  the  Saxon  name  to  the  Holeburne 
are  still  marked  by  the  sites  of  Hockley-in-the- 
Hole  and  Black  Mary's  Hole,  Bagnigge  Wells  (both 
a,lready  described  by  us  in  previous  chapters).  The 
overflowing  part  of  the  Fleet,  near  its  foul  mouth, 
probably  gave  the  name  to  the  stream,  as  the  same 
cause  led  to  the  naming  the  Fleets  of  the  Trent ; 
and  the  site  of  Paris  Bear  Garden,  Southwark,  now 
the  parish  of  Christchurch,  Surrey,  was  anciently 
called  Widefleet,  from  the  overflowing  of  the 
trenches  at  high  tides,  which  formed  a  large  stag- 
nant backwater  to  a  river  that,  from  man's  neglect 
and  idleness,  has  probably  caused  the  death  of 
more  Londoners  than  have  been  slain  in  English 
battles  since  the  Conquest. 

But  turning  back  to  earlier  times,  let  us  dive  far 
below  the  deepest  Stygian  blackness  of  the  Fleet 
Sewer.  To  see  the  antiquities  found  in  the  Fleet, 
which  really  deserves  a  daring  discoverer's  attention 
nearly  as  much  as  the  Tiber,  let  us  follow  Mr. 
Pinks  into  the  vast  rag  and  bone  shop  of  relics 


which  his  loving  and   patient  industry  has  cata- 
logued   so    carefully.      During   the    digging    and 
widening  of  the  Fleet  Ditch,  in  1676,  there,  at  a 
depth  of  fifteen  feet,  was  found  the  stray  rubbish, 
bones,  and  refuse  of  Roman  London.     The  coins 
were   of  silver,   copper,  and  brass,  but  none   of 
gold.     The  silver  was  ring-money,  of  several  sizes, 
the  largest  as  big  as  a  crown,  the  smallest  about 
the  size  of  a  silver  twopence,  every  one  having  a 
snip    in   the   edge.     At  Holborn   Bridge,  thrown 
away  by  spoilers  or  dropped  by  thieves,  were  two 
brass  Lares  (about  four  inches  high),  one  a  Ceres, 
the  other  a  Bacchus,  both  covered  with  a  petrified 
crust,  but  the   stream  had  washed  much  of  the 
oxydizing  matter  from  the  coins,  "  thrown  away  on 
the  approach  of  Boadicea,''  says  the  vivacious  and 
imaginative  Pennant,  his  mind,  like  a  true  anti- 
quary, of  course  reverting  to  the  one  special  crisis 
of  interest  in  ancient  London  story.     The  excava- 
tors also  discovered  in  the  miserly  river  various 
British  and  Saxon  antiquities  of  interest — arrow- 
heads, broad   spur  rowels,  keys,   daggers,  scales, 
seals,  with  Saxon  names,  ships'  counters,  with  Saxon 
characters,  and  medals,  crosses,  and  crucifixes,  of 
a  later  date.     In  the  bed  of  the  Fleet,  at  Black 
Mary's  Hole,  near  the  end  of  Baker  Street,  a  ship's 
anchor,  it  is  said,  was  found  some  years  ago ;  and  a 
correspondent  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  (1843) 
describes  a  small  anchor,  three  feet  ten  inches  long, 
found  in  the  Fleet  Ditch,  as  then  in  the  collection 
of  Mr.  Walter  Hawkins,  F.S.A. 

In  1856  there  was  exhibited  at  the  British 
Archaeological  Association  a  globular  iron  padlock, 
so  constructed  that  the  whole  shackle  could  be 
drawn  out  when  the  bolt  was  thrown  back.  This 
was  found  in  the  Fleet  Ditch,  near  the  bottom  of 
Holborn  Hill.  In  1857  the  same  association  ex- 
hibited a  jug  of  hard-baked  pottery  (the  upper 
part  covered  with  mottled  green  glaze),  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  found  in  1854,  in  the  ditch,  near 
Smithfield.  In  1838  a  beautiful  hunting-knife,  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  was  found  in  the  same 
dirty  repository  of  "unconsidered  trifles."  The 
ivory  haft  was  wrought  with  a  figure  of  Mercury, 
with  winged  petasiis,  hunting-horn  and  caduceus. 
The  blade  was  of  the  time  of  George  I.  About 
1862  two  target  bosses,  of  latten,  of  the  time  of 
Henry  VIII.,  were  dredged  up.  In  1862  Mr. 
Gunston  exhibited,  at  the  British  Archaeological 
meeting,  a  rude  penknife  of  the  fifteenth,  and 
one  of  the  sixteenth  century,  both  Fleet  relics; 
also  the  carved  wooden  haft  of  a  dagger,  and  a 
little  knife,  the  bone  haft  carved  with  a  female  bust 
that  resembled  Catherine  de  Medicis ;  also  a  knife- 
blade,  with  a  motto,  and  a  Roman  sharpening  steel. 


4i8 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Fleet  River. 


Stow  says  that  before  1307  ten  or  twelve  ships 
used  to  go  up  the  Fleet  to  Fleet  Bridge,  "with 
divers  things  and  merchandizes,  and  some  of  these 
ships  went  under  the  bridge  unto  Holborn  Bridge." 
A  "  Process  of  Recognition."  in  third  folio  of  the 
ancient  "Liber  A,  sive  Pilosus,"  containing  the 
ancient  evidences  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  St. 
Paul's,  mentions  Fleet  Hythe  as  in  the  possession 
of  Henry  the  Woodmonger,  a  man,  says  Mr.  Pinks, 
mentioned  in  the  great  "  Roll  of  the  Pipe  "  for 
the  31st  of  Henry  I.,  and  also  in  the  "  Registrum  de 
Clerkenwell,"  as  one  of  the  earliest  donors  to  the 
Clerkenwell  nunnery.  The  process  shows  that 
ships  and  store-barges  belonging  to  the  Dean  and 
Chapter  of  St.  Paul's  unshipped  their  lading  at 
Fleet  Hythe,  and  that  the  owners  complained  of  a 
toll  there  exacted  from  them.  The  river  was  no 
doubt  navigable,  ages  ago,  much  further  than 
Holborn  Bridge. 

"In  a  parliament  held  at  Carlisle,  in  the  thirty-iifth 
year  of  Edward  I.  (1307),  Henry  Lacy,  Earl  of 
Lincoln,  complained  that  in  former  times  the 
.course  of  water  running  under  'Holeburne  '  Bridge 
and  Fleet  Bridge,  into  the  Thames,  had  been  of 
such  breadth  and  depth,  that  ten  or  twelve  '  naves ' 
(ships)  '  were  wont  to  come  to  Flete  Bridge,  and 
some  of  them  to  '  Holeburne '  Bridge,  yet  that 
'by  the  filth  of  the  tanners  and  others,  and  by 
the  raising  of  wharfs,  and  especially  by  a  diver- 
sion of  the  water  in  the  first  year  of  King  John 
(1200),  by  them  of  the  New  Temple,  for  their 
mills  without  Baynard's  Castle,  and  by  other  im- 
pediments, the  course  was  decayed,  and  ships 
could  not  enter  as  they  were  used.'  On  the 
petition  of  the  earl,  the  constable  of  the  Tower, 
with  the  mayor  and  •  sheriffs  of  London,  were 
■directed  by  writ  to  take  with  them  certain  'honest 
and  discreet  men  to  inquire  into  the  former  state 
of  the  river,  to  leave  nothing  that  might  hurt  or 
stop  it,'  and  restore  it  to  its  original  condition. 
The  creek  was  cleansed,  the  mills  removed,  and 
other  means  taken  for  the  preservation  of  the 
course ;  but  it  was  not  brought  to  its  old  depth 
and  breadth,  and  therefore  it  was  no  longer  termed 
a  river  but  a  brook,  called  Turnmill  or  Tremill 
Brook,  because  mills  were  erected  on  it.  '  But  still, 
as  if  by  nature  intended  for  a  common  sewer  of 
London,  it  was  soon  choked  with  filth  again.' 
The  scouring  of  this  muddy  stream,  which  seems  to 
have  silted  up  about  every  thirty  or  forty  years, 
was  a  continual  expense  to  the  City  of  London." 

Several  years  ago,  on  making  a  great  sewer,  some 
piles  of  oak,  apparently  portions  of  a  mill-dam,  were 
found  in  the  Fleet  Ditch,  thirteen  feet  below  the 
surface  of  Ray  Street,  near  Little  Saffron  Hill. 


"In  1855,"  says  Mr.  Timbs,  "the  valley  of  the 
Fleet,  from  Coppice  Row  to  Farringdon  Street,  was 
cleared  of  many  old  and  decaying  dwellings,  many 
of  a  date  anterior  to  the  Fire  of  London.  From 
Coppice  Row  a  fine  view  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral 
was  opened  by  the  removal  of  these  buildings. 
'In  making  the  excavation,'  says  a  writer  in  the 
Builder,  '  for  the  great  sewer  which  now  conveys 
from  view  the  Fleet  Ditch,  at  a  depth  of  about 
thirteen  feet  below  the  surface  in  Ray  Street,  near 
the  corner  of  Little  Saffron  Hill,  the  workmen  came 
upon  the  pavement  of  an  old  street,  consisting  of 
very  large  blocks  of  ragstone  of  irregular  shape. 
An  examination  of  the  paving-stones  showed  that 
the  street  had  been  well  used.  They  are  worn 
quite  smooth  by  the  footsteps  and  traffic  of  a 
past  generation.  Below  the  old  street  was  found 
another  phase  of  Old  London.  Thickly  covered 
with  slime  were  piles  of  oak,  hard  and  black, 
which  had  seemingly  been  portions  of  a  mill-dam. 
A  few  feet  below  were  very  old  wooden  water-pipes, 
nothing  but  the  rough  trunks  of  trees.  The  course 
of  time,  and  the  weight  of  matter  above  the  old 
pavement,  had  pressed  the  gravel,  clay,  granite, 
portions  of  tiles,  &c.,  into  a  hard  and  almost 
solid  mass,  and  it  was  curious  to  observe  that 
near  the  old  surface  were  great  numbers  of  pins. 
Whither  have  the  pins  gone  ?  is  a  query  which 
has  puzzled  many.  The  now  hard  concrete,  stuck 
with  these  useful  articles,  almost  like  a  pincushion, 
is  a  partial  reply  to  the  query.  The  thirteen  feet 
of  newer  deposit  would  seem  to  have  accumulated 
in  two  or  three  centuries.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  a 
portion  of  the  rubbish  from  the  City,  after  the  Great 
Fire,  was  shot  here.'  " 

About  the  year  1502  (Henry  VII.),  Lambert, 
in  his  "  London,"  says  that  the  intolerable  Fleet 
Ditch  was  cleared,  from  Holborn  to  the  Thames, 
and  it  became  once  more  navigable  for  large 
barges,  laden  with  fuel  and  fish.  In  i5j5o  Aggas, 
in  his  curious  Map  of  London,  marks  two  bridges 
over  the  Fleet — Holborne  and  Fleet  Bridge.  Hol- 
borne  Bridge  was  situated  on  a  spot  between  Field 
Lane  and  Victoria  Street ;  and  the  Fleet  Bridge, 
says  Mr.  Pinks,  an  excellent  authority,  about  the 
spot  where  the  present  Fleet  Street  and  Ludgate 
Hill  join  (the  circus  between  the  two  obeUsks). 
Southward  stood  a  dwelling-house,  or  warehouse, 
opposite  the  northern  end  of  Bridewell,  which 
reached  to  the  Thames,  and  was  situated  on  the 
western  side  of  the  Fleet.  From  the  dwelling- 
house  above  mentioned  as  far  as  the  Thames,  the 
Fleet  was  open.  Bridewell  Bridge  (afterwards  built 
on  its  mouth)  not  being  yet  erected. 

In  Stow's  "Survey"  Fleet  Bridge,  without  Lud 


The  Fleet  River.] 


HOLBORN   BRIDGE. 


419 


Gate,  is  described  as  a  stone  bridge,  coped  on  both 
sides,  with  iron  pikes,  with  stone  lanthorns  on  the 
south  side  for  winter  evening  travellers.  Under 
this  ran  the  River  of  Wells,  alias  Turnmill  Brook, 
dias  the  Fleet  Dyke,  or  Ditch.  The  bridge  had 
been  larger  in  old  times,  but  was  lessened  as  the 
water-course  narrowed.  It  had  either  been  built  or 
repaired  by  John  Wells,  mayor  in  143 1  (Henry  VI.), 
and  on  tlie  coping  Wells  "imbraced  by  angels"  is 
engraved,  as  on  the  Standard  in  Cheape,  which 
he  also  built.  This  bridge  melted  away  in  the 
Great  Fire,  and  its  successor  lasted  till  1765,  when 
it  was  removed,  to  widen  Farringdon  Street,  and 
the  Fleet  was  abandoned  as  incapable  of  improve- 
ment, and  finally  bricked  over  withoutany  respectful 
funeral  service.  Strype,  in  1720,  describes  Fleet 
Bridge  as  having  sides  breast  high,  and  on  them 
the  City  arms  engraved.  At  Holborn  Bridge  the 
Canal,  as  it  was  then  called,  was  fed  by  Turnmill 
Brook.  The  Bridewell  and  Fleet  Bridges  adjoin- 
ing were  ascended  by  steps.  Between  the  six 
piers  of  Fleet  Bridge  were  iron  rails  and  banisters 
at  both  sides.  The  roadway  was  level  with  the 
street.  There  was  a  coffee-house  (the  "Rainbow") 
on  the  bridge  in  1751.  The  older  bridge  was  a 
stone  bridge  of  one  arch,  with  no  stone  parapet, 
but  wooden  rails  and  posts. 

Prynne's  "Records,"  folio,  r669,  mention  several 
old  records  referring  to  the  nuisances  of  the  river 
of  Fleet,  and  efforts  to  make  it  navigable,  "as  for- 
merly," to  and  under  Holborn  Bridge.  He  also 
quotes  from  the  record  itself  the  interesting  peti- 
tion of  the  Commons  of  London  (Edward  I.), 
quoted  by  Stow,  complaining  of  the  obstruction  of 
the  "Flete  River,"  the  corruption  of  the  air  it  had 
engendered,  and  the  hindrance  of  the  former  navi- 
gation as  far  as  "Holebume"  Bridge.  We  have 
seen  from  the  Earl  of  Lincoln's  petition  men- 
tioned above  that  ten  or  twelve  ships  had  been 
known  to  bring  merchandise  as  far  as  the  Fleet 
Bridge,  and  some  of  them  to  penetrate  as  far  as 
Holebume  Bridge.  The  commission  was  issued  to 
perfect  the  work,  which  was,  however,  stopped  by 
the  king's  death.  Prynne  quietly  urges  the  Govern- 
ment of  Charies  II.,  for  the  benefit  of  the  health 
and  trade  of  the  City,  to  make  the  river  navigable 
to  Holborn  Bridge  or  Clerkenwell. 

In  the  celebrated  "  Liber  Albus  "  or  White  Book 
of  the  City  of  London,  compiled  in  1419  (Henry  V.), 
the  street  of  "  Flete  Brigge  "  is  mentioned,  as  is  also 
the  cleansing  o"f  "  the  Foss  of  the  Fletg."  Amongst 
the  City  tolls  the  compiler  notes  :  "  Every  cart  that 
brings  corn  into  the  City  for  sale  shall  pay  one 
halfpenny ;  if  it  enters  by  way  of  Holburne  or  by 
the  Flete,  it  shall  pay  one  penny,  the  franchise 


excepted The  cart  that  brings  nuts  or 

cheese  shall  pay  twopence ;  and  if  it  enters  by  the 
Flete,  or  by  Holeburn,  it  shall  pay  twopence  half- 
penny." 

In  the  "Calendar  of  State  Papers"  (Mary,  1553 — 
1558),  in  connection  with  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary 
the  Sanguinary,  we  find  a  note  of  certain  conspira- 
tors against  the  queen  meeting  at  Fleet  Bridge,  just 
as  in  the  Rye  House  rebellion  (1683)  we  meet  with 
Monmouth,  Sir  Thomas  Armstrong,  and  Lord  Grey, 
going  from  the  Fleet  Ditch  to  Snow  Hill,  to  arrange 
the  Sunday-night  rising,  when  at  midnight,  accord- 
ing to  the  traitor,  Grey,  the  train-bands  at  the  Royal 
Exchange  were  to  be  attacked,  and  the  western 
City  gates  seized.  At  Fleet  Bridge  and  Snow  Hill 
the  conspirators  were  to  wait  the  onslaught  of  the 
king's  guard.  At  Snow  Hill  there  was  to  be  a 
barricade  thro\yn  up,  and  mounted  with  three  or 
four  ships'  cannon,  while  at  Fleet  Bridge  there 
were  to  be  several  regular  cannon,  and  a  breast- 
work for  musqueteers  on  each  side  of  the  bridge, 
while  the  houses  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Fleet 
were  to  be  lined  with  firelock-men,  who  were  to 
fire  from  the  windows  as  the  royal  troops  ap- 
proached the  bridge.  There  were  at  least  two 
taverns  on  Fleet  Bridge  at  the  Restoration.  In 
Aggas'  Map  of  London  (1560,  second  year  of 
Queen  Elizabeth),  Holborn  Bridge  had  houses  on 
the  north  side. 

In  1670  (Charles  II.),  in  rebuilding  London, 
after  the  Great  Fire,  it  was  decreed  that  Holborn 
Bridge  being  too  narrow  for  the  traffic  of  London, 
the  northern  approach  should  be  enlarged  so  that 
the  "  way  and  passage "  might  run  in  "  a  bevil 
line  from  a  certain  timber  house  on  the  north  side 
thereof  commonly  called  or  known  by  the  name 
or  sign  of  the  Cock,"  to  the  "  Swan  Inn."  Wren, 
therefore,  built  the  new  bridge  on  the  north  side 
of  Holborn  Hill  accordingly;  and  the  name  of 
William  Hooker,  Lord  Mayor  in  1673-74,  was 
cut  on  the  stone  coping  of  the  east  approach.  In 
March,  1840,  Mr.  Tite,  F.S.A.,  during  the  opening 
of  a  sewer  at  Holborn  Hill,  was  lucky  enough  to  be 
passing,  and  saw  the  southern  face  of  the  old  bridge 
disinterred.  The  arch  was  about  twenty  feet  span. 
The  road  from  the  east  intersected  the  bridge  ob- 
liquely, and  out  of  the  angle  thus  formed  a  stone 
corbel  arose,  to  carry  the  parapet.  The  worthy 
mayor's  name  and  the  date  were  still  visible.  The 
width  of  the  bridge  was  eleven  feet  six  inches,  says 
Mr.  Crosby,  who  had  spent  many  years  collecting 
memorabiha  of  the  Fleet  valley.  It  had  probably 
originally  been  twelve  feet  six  inches.  According 
to  this  best  authority  on  the  subject,  Holborn 
Bridge  consisted  of  four  different  bri^g«s  joined 


420 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Fleet  River. 


together  at  the  sides,  and  two  of  these  had  been 
added,  to  widen  the  passage.  The  entrance  of 
the  old  Swan  Inn,  with  premises  that  covered  an 
acre  and  a  half,  faced  what  is  now  Farringdon 
Street. 

A  writer  in  the  Times,  August  22nd,  1838,  states 
as  follows : — "  The  rear  of  the  houses  on  Holborn 


"To  where  Fleet-ditch  with  disemboguing  streams 
Rolls  the  large  tribute  of  dead  dogs  to  Thames, 
The  king  of  dykes  !  than  whom  no  sluice  of  mud 
With  deeper  sable  blots  the  silver  flood. 

'  Here  strip,  my  children !  here  at  once  leap  in. 
Here  prove  who  best  can  dash  thro'  thick  and  thin, 
And  who  the  most  in  love  of  dirt  excel. 
Or  dark  dexterity  of  groping  well. 


THE  FLEET  DITCH  NEAR  WEST  STREET.     (From  a  Sketch  taken  during  the  Alterations,  1844.) 


Bridge  has  for  many  years  been  a  receptacle  for 
characters  of  the  most  daring  and  desperate  con- 
dition. It  was  here  in  a  brick  tenement,  now 
called  by  the  Peachums  and  Lockets  of  the  day 
'  Cromwell's  House,'  that  murderous  consultations 
were  held,  by  the  result  of  one  of  which  the  assassi- 
nation of  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Steel  was  accom- 
plished." 

In  the  "  Dunciad,"  Pope,  lashing  the  poorer  of 
his  enemies,  drives  them  headlong  past  Bridewell 
to  the  mud-pools  of  the  Fleet — 


Who  flings  most  filth  and  wide  pollutes  around 
The  stream,  be  his  the  Weekly  Journals  bound ; 
A  pig  of  lead  to  him  who  dives  the  best ; 
A  peck  of  coals  a-piece  shall  glad  the  rest.' 
In  naked  majesty,  Oldmixon  stands, 
And,  Milo-like,  surveys  his  arms  and  hands ; 
Then  sighing,  thus,  'And  am  I  now  threescore? 
Ah,  why,  ye  gods  !   should  two  and  two  make  four  ? 
He  said,  and  chmb'd  a  stranded  lighter's  height. 
Shot  to  the  black  abyss,  and  plung'd  downright. 
The  Senior's  judgment  all  the  crowd  admire. 
Who  but  to  sink  the  deeper,  rose  the  higher. 
Next  Smedley  div'd  ;  low  circles  dimpled  o'er 


The  Fleet  River.5 


THE  FLEET  AND   ITS   BRIDGES. 


4^1 


THE  OLD  "RED  LION,"  FROM  THE  FRONT. 
BACK  OF  THE  "  RED  LION."  FROM  THE  FLEET.         THE  FLEET  DITCH,  FROM  THE  "  RED  LION. 

{^From  Sketches  taken  shortly  before  the  Demolituni). 
81 


422 


Old  and   new  LONDON. 


[The  Flaet  River. 


The  quaking  mud,  that  clos'd,  and  Qp'd  no  more. 
All  look,  all  sigh,  and  call  on  Smedley  lost ; 
Smcdley,  in  vain,  resounds  thro'  all  the  coast. 

Then    *     *    essayed  ;  scarce  vanish'd  out  of  sight. 
He  buoys  up  instant,  and  returns  to  light, 
He  bears  no  tokens  of  the  sabler  streams. 
And  mounts  far  off  among  the  swans  of  Thames." 

Gay  again,  in  his  "  Trivia ;  or,  The  Art  of  Walk- 
ing the  Streets  of  London,"  in  his  pleasant  way- 
sketches  the  same  noisome  place  : — 

"  If  where  Fleet  Ditch  with  muddy  current  flows 
You  chance  to  roam  ;  where  oyster-tubs  in  rows 
Are  ranged  beside  the  posts  ;  there  stay  thy  haste, 
And  with  the  savoury  fish  indulge  thy  taste  : 
The  damsel's  knife  the  gaping  shell  commands. 
While  the  salt  liquor  streams  between  her  hands.'' 

Swift,  too,  with  his  coarse  pen,  giving  a  descrip- 
tion of  a  city  shower,  revels  in  the  congenial  filth 
of  the  odorous  locality : — 

"Now  from  all  parts  the  swelling  kennels  flow. 
And  bear  their  trophies  with  them  as  they  go  ; 
Filths  of  all  hues  and  odours  seem  to  tell 
What  street  they  sail'd  from  by  their  sight  and  smell. 
They,  as  each  torrent  drives,  with  rapid  force, 
From  Smithfield  to  St.  'Pulchre's  shape  their  couree, 
And  in  huge  confluence  join'd  at  Snow  Hill  ridge. 
Fall  from  the  conduit  prone  ta  Holborn  Bridge  ; 
Sweepings  from  butchers'  stalls,  dung,  guts,  and  blood, 
Drown'd  puppies,  stinking  sprats,  all  drench'd  in  mud. 
Dead  cats,    and  turnip -tops,   come   tumbling  down  the 
flood." 

The  Fleet  seems  always  to  have  been  a  sort  of 
dirty  and  troublesome  child  to  the  Corporation  of 
London.  In  1 589  (Elizabeth)  the  Common  Council 
collected  a  thousand  marks  (;^666  13s.  4d.)  to 
draw  the  springs  of  Hampstead  Heath  into  one 
head,  for  the  service  of  the  City,  and  to  scour 
down  the  Fleet;  but  the  constant  encroachment 
on  the  Fleet  banks,  and  the  rubbish  and  dirt 
thrown  into  the  narrow  channel,  soon,  says  Stow, 
clogged  it  worse  than  ever.  In  i6o6  (James  I.) 
flood-gates  were  erected,  to  dam  the  water 
back  when  required;  and  in  Cromwell's  time 
(1652)  the  sewer  was  thoroughly  cleansed,  and 
many  encroachments  checked.  The  ditch  had 
now  become  impassable  to  boats,  in  consequence 
of  the  numerous  pigsties  on  the  banks,  and  the 
vast  quantities  of  offal  and  garbage  thrown  in  by 
the  butchers. 

"Fuller,  writing  in  1662,"  says  Mr.  Pinks, 
"remarks  of  the  Fleet,  that  it  was  so  called 
'  from  its  former  fleetness,  though  now  it  creepeth 
slow  enough,  not  so  much  for  age  as  the 
injection  of  the  City  refuse  wherewith  it  is 
obstructed/  In  an  early  play,  one  of  the 
characters  says,  '  I  was  just  dead  of  a  consump- 
tion, till  the  sweet  smoke  of  Cheapside  and  the 


dear  perfume  of  Fleet  Ditch  made  me  a  man 
again.'  In  Sir  Christopher  Wren's  design  for  the 
rebuilding  of  London,  after  the  Great  Fire  of  1666, 
we  find  six  bridges  between  the  Thames  and  Clerk- 
en  well,  viz.,  Bridewell-dock  Bridge,  Wood-market, 
Bridge,  Fleet  Bridge — a  bridge  in  the  line  of  street, 
from  the  proposed  piazza  in  Fleet  Street  to  Pye 
Corner,  Smithfield — Holborn  Bridge,  and  Ccck 
Lane  Bridge.     But  this  design  was  not  carried  out." 

After  the  Fire,  by  cleansing  and  enlarging  of 
Fleet  Ditch,  coal-barges,  &c.,  were  enabled  to  come 
up  as  far  as  Holborn  Bridge,  where  Turnmill  Brook 
fell  into  the  wider  and  equally  sable  flood.  Wharves 
and  store-houses  were  built  on  the  Fleet  side,  but 
they  did  not  prove  successful.  The  channel  had 
five  feet  of  water  at  the  lowest  tide.  The  wharves 
were  thirty  feet  broad,  and  had  dak  rails,  to  pre- 
vent passers-by  at  night  falUng  in.  Sir  Thomas 
Fitch,  the  bricklayer  who  built  the  ditch,  made 
a  fortune  by  it,  the  cost  being,  as  Ned  Ward  says, 
in  his  "  London  Spy,"  ^^7  4,000. 

The  first  Bridewell  Bridge  over  the  Fleet,  ac- 
cording to  Stow,  was  of  timber,  through  a  breach 
in  the  City  wall,  opposite  Bridewell.  Hatton,  in 
his  "New  View  of  London,"  1708,  describes  Bride- 
well Bridge  as  of  stone,  and  right  against  the  back 
gate  of  the  prison.  It  was  ascended  by  fourteen 
steps,  and  was  pulled  down  in  1 765. 

The  bridge  at  the  end  of  Fleet  Lane,  called  the 
Middle  Bridge,  was  of  stone,  and  was,  like  Bride- 
well, ascended, by  fourteen  steps;  the  arch  being 
high  enough  to  admit  of  ships  with  merchandise  to 
pass  under  it. 

In  1733  (George  II.)  the  Fleet,  being  so  often 
tried  and  found  guilty,  underwent  at  last  its  final 
doom.  The  City  of  London  petitioned  the  House 
of  Commons  for  permission  to  cover  it  up  out  of 
sight,  as  all  navigation  had  ceased,  it  had  become 
impossible  to  cleanse  it,  and  several  persons  had 
fallen  in  and  been  suffocated  in  the  mud.  A  bill 
was  accordingly  passed,  by  virtue  of  which  the 
fee-simple  of  the  site  of  the  premises  on  the  line  of 
the  Fleet  Ditch  was  vested  in  the  Corporation  for 
ever,  on  condition  that  proper  drains  were  made,  to 
receive  the  mud-choked  stream.  In  1735  two 
sewer-arches,  ten  feet  high  and  six  feet  wide, 
were  completed  from  Fleet  Bridge  to  Holborn 
Bridge,  and  covered  over,  and  the  new  Fleet  Market 
erected  on  the  site,  in  1737.  The  thing  was  only 
half  done,  after  allj  for  the  noisome  part,  from  the 
corner  of  Bridge  Street  to  the  Thames,  still  re- 
mained open,  and  was  not  arched  over  till  the 
approaches  to  Blackfriars  Bridge  were  completed, 
between  1760  and  1768,  and  even  then  one 
stubborn  consen-ative  kept  a  small,  filthy  dock  still 


The  Fleot  Sewer.] 


FLOOD   IN  THE  FLEET. 


423 


uncovered.  In  1763,  a  drunken  barber,  from 
Bromley,  in  Kent,  was  found  in  Fleet  Ditch,  stand- 
ing upright  and  frozen  to  death. 

Floods  of  the  Fleet  were  not  uncommon,  before 
it  was  boxed  up.  In  1679,  after  heavy  rains,  it 
broke  down  the  back  of  several  wholesale  butcher- 
houses  at  Cow  Cross,  and  carried  off  cattle,  dead 
and  alive.  At  Hockley-in-the-Hole  barrels  of  ale, 
beer,  and  brandy  floated  down  the  black  stream, 
and  were  treated  by  the  rabble  as  fair  flotsam.  In 
1768  the  Hampstead  Ponds  overflowing,  after  a 
severe  storm,  the  Fleet  channel  grew  into  a  torrent, 
and  the  roads  and  fields  about  Bagnigge  Wells 
were  overflowed.  In  the  gardens  of  Bagnigge 
Wells  the  water  was  four  feet  deep.  A  man  was 
nearly  drowned,  and  several  thousand  pounds' 
damage  was  done  in  Coldbath  Fields,  Mutton  Lane, 
and  Peter  Street  and  vicinity.  Three  oxen  and 
several  hogs  were  carried  off  and  drowned.  A 
Blackfriars  boatman  took  his  boat  to  Turnmill 
Street,  and  there  plied,  removing  the  inhabitants, 
who  could  not  leave  their  houses  for  the  rising 
flood.  In  1809  a  sudden  thaw  produced  a  flood, 
and  the  whole  space  between  St.  Pancras,  Somers' 
Town,  and  the  foot  of  the  hill  at,  Pentonville  was 
soon  under  water ;  two  cart-horses  were  drowned  ; 
and  for  several  days  persons  received  their  pro- 
visions in  at  their  windows,  from  carts  sent  round 
to  convey  them. 

In  1846  a  furious  thunderstorm  caused  the  Fleet 
Ditch  to  blow  up.  The  rush  from  the  drain  at  the 
second  arch  of  Blackfriars  Bridge  drove  a  steamer 
against  one  of  the  piers,  and  damaged  it.  The 
overflow  of  the  Fleet  penetrated  into  the  cellars  on 
the  west  side  of  Farringdon  Street,  so  that  one 
draper  alone  had  ;^3,ooo  worth  of  goods  destroyed 
or  damaged.  In  the  lower  part  of  Clerkenwell,  where 
the  sewer  ran  open,  the  effects  of  the  flood  were 
most  severe,  especially  in  the  valley  below  Brook 
Hifl  and  Vine  Street.  In  Bull's  Head  Court,  Peter 
Street,  the  water  rose  five  feet,  and  swept  away 
cattle  and  furniture.  Three  poor  houses  in  Round 
Court,  Brook  Hill,  were  partly  carried  away.  From 
Acton  Place,  Bagnigge  Wells  Road,  to  King's  Cross 
the  roads  were  impassable,  and  the  kitchens  inun- 
dated. One  baker  alone  lost  thirty-six  sacks  of 
flour.  A  few  days  after  another  storm  produced  a 
renewed  flood,  and  two  more  houses  fell  in  Round 
Court,  Brook  Hill.  The  introduction  of  the  cholera 
into  Clerkenwell  Prison,  in  1832,  was  attributed  to 
the  effluvia  of  the  river  Fleet,  then  opened. 

In  1855,  the  Fleet,  as  one  -of  the  metropolitan 
main  sewers  then  vested  in  the  Commissioners  of 
Sewers,  became  vested  in  the  newly-created  Metro- 
politan Board   of   Works.      The    gigantic    main- 


drainage  system  began  with  the  great  subterranean 
roads,  the  high,  the  low,  and  the  mid  level,  which, 
intercepting  all  lesser  sewers,  carry  their  united 
floods  to  Barking  Creek  and  Crossness  Point.  The 
high  level  runs  from  Hampstead  to  Bow ;  the  mid- 
level  from  Kensal  Green  to  Bow ;  the  low  level, 
from  Cremorne  to  Abbey  Mills  on  the  marshes 
near  Stratford.  The  mid-level  main-drainage  works 
were  commenced  in  Clerkenwell  in  March,  1863,  in 
Wilderness  Row.  From  Goswell  Street  to  Wilder- 
ness Row  it  was  an  open  cutting,  with  the  exception 
of  a  short  tunnel  under  the  Charterhouse  grounds. 
The  distance  from  Old  Ford,  Bow,  to  Kensal  Green 
is  9  miles  2,650  feet,  exclusive  of  2J  miles  ot 
junctions.  The  sewer  through  Clerkenwell  is 
8  feet  9  inches  in  diameter.  There  were  generally 
400  or  500  men  at  work,  with  eleven  steam-engines 
to  pump  water  and  draw  earth. 

"  The  Fleet  Sewer,"  says  Mr.  Pinks,  "  the  '  Cloaca 
Maxima'  of  our  metropolis,  receives  the  drainage 
of  parts  of  Hampstead  and  Highgate,  all  Kentish 
Town,  Camden  Town,  and  Somers'  Town,  parts  of 
Islington,  Clerkenwell,  and  St.  Sepulchre,  and 
nearly  all  that  part  of  the  Holborn  division  of 
sewers  south  of  the  New  Road,  the  total  surface 
draining  into  it  in  the  Holborn  and  Finsbury 
division  being  about  4,220  acres.  In  1746  about 
400  acres  of  this  district  were  covered  with  houses. 
At  present  there  are  nearly  2,000  acres  built  upon, 
of  necessity  requiring  a  sewer  of  large  capacity  to 
carry  off  the  refuse  waters.  The  dimensions  of  the 
Fleet  vary  according  to  the  locality  :  at  its  northern 
portion  it  is  6  feet  6  inches  high,  and  6  feet  6 
inches  wide ;  at  other  parts  it  varies  from  1 2  feet 
high  and  12  in  width,  to  9  feet  high  by  10  feet 
wide ;  then  8  feet  6  inches  wide  by  8  feet  3  inches 
high  :  and  before  reaching  the  Thames  the  dimen- 
sions of  this  huge  sewer  are  14  feet  wide  by  10  feet 
6  inches  high,  and  at  its  mouth  18  feet  by  12.  The 
ordinary  movement  of  the  current  from  Bagnigge 
Wells  is  three  miles  an  hour,  but  after  heavy 
showers,  when  sometimes  the  water  rises  almost 
instantly  five  feet  or  more,  the  speed  is  gready 
accelerated.  The  amount  per  day  of  sewage  dis- 
charged by  this  monster  sewer  is  on  the  average 
1,741.77s  cubic  feet." 

The  dangers  of  exploring  the  Fleet  Sewer  have 
been  described  by  Mr.  Crosby,  who  made  great 
collections  for  a  history  of  the  Fleet  Valley  :— "  At 
near  twelve  o'clock  on  Tuesday  night,  the  28th 
July,  1840,"  says  this  gentieman,  "the  tide  flowed 
in  so  fast  from  the  Thames  to  Fleet  Bridge,  that 
myself  and  Bridgewater  were  obliged  to  fly.  It 
reached  the  hip,  and  we  got  somewhat  wet  before 
arriving  at  Holborn  Bridge,  quite  safe,  but  much 


424 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


P'he  Fleet  River. 


exhausted  in  splashing  through  the  water  in  our 
heavy  boots. 

"  Fleet  Bridge,  Tuesday,  July  28th,  1840. — As  I 
could  not  depend  upon  the  admeasurements,  which 
at  the  beginning  of  the  year  I  had  taken  in  a 
hurried  manner  at  Fleet  Bridges,  while  bricklayers 
were  placing  in  a  brick  bottom  in  place  of  the 
original  one  of  alluvial  soil,  I  determined  to  obtain 
them  the  first  opportunity.  This  evening,  therefore, 
at  ten  o'clock,  I  met  Bridgewater  (one  of  the  work- 
men employed  in  constructing  the  new  sewer  from 
Holborn  Bridge  to  Clerkenwell)  by  appointment  at 
the  hoard  there.  Water  boots  being  in  readiness, 
I  lighted  my  lamps,  and,  assisted  by  the  watchmen. 
King  and  Anon,  we  descended  the  ladder,  and 
got  into  that  branch  of  the  sewer  which  joms 
Wren's  Bridge  at  Holbom.  We  then  walked  care- 
fully till  we  reached  Fleet  Bridge.  I  suspended 
my  argand  lamp  on  the  breakwater  of  the  sewer, 
and  with  my  lanthom  light  we  proceeded  towards 
the  Thames.  We  got  a  considerable  distance, 
during  which  the  channel  of  the  sewer  twice  turned 
to  the  right  at  a  slight  angle.  The  last  portion  we 
entered  into  was  barrelled  at  the  bottom,  and  the 
middle  so  full  of  holes,  and  the  water  so  deep  as  we 
approached  the  Thames,  that  we  thought  it  prudent 
to  return  to  Fleet  Bridge.  Here  I  lighted  up  four 
candles,  which,  with  my  two  lamps,  enabled  me  to 
see  the  admeasurements  I  required.  Bridgewater, 
who  is  a  sober,  steady,  and  good-tempered  man, 
was  of  great  use  to  me  in  so  doing.  I  measured 
the  heights  with  a  fishing-rod,  twelve  feet  in  length, 
joined  to  my  two  measuring-rods,  which,  tied,  gave 
me  another  rod  of  nine  feet  six  inches.  All  went 
on  well  till  about  a  quarter  to  twelve  o'clock,  when, 
to  our  surprise,  we  found  the  tide  had  suddenly 
come  in  to  the  depth  of  two  feet  and  a  half.  No 
time  was  to  be  lost;  but  I  had  only  one  more 
admeasurement  to  make,  viz.,  the  width  of  the  North 
Bridge.  I  managed  this,  and  we  then  snatched  up 
the  basket,  and,  holding  our  lamps  aloft,  dashed  up 
the  sewer  which  we  had  to  get  up  one  half  before 
out  of  danger.  The  air  was  close  and  made  us 
faint.  However,  we  got  safe  to  Holborn  Bridge 
with  all  our  things,  and  the  argand  lamp  did  not 
blow  out  till  we  just  reached  it." 

Mr.  Archer,  in  his  "Vestiges  of  Old  London," 
1851,  says  that  by  the  opening  at  the  Thames 
"many  persons  enteral  low  tide,  armed  with  sticks 
to  defend  themselves  from  rats,  as  well  as  for  the 
purpose  '  of  sounding  on  their  perilous  way'  among 
the  slimy  shallows;  and  carrying  a  lanthem  to  light 
the  dreary  passage,  they  wander  for  miles  under  the 
crowded  streets  in  search  of  such  waifs  as  are  carried 
there  from  above.     A  more  dismal  pursuit  can 


scarcely  be  conceived;  so  near  to  the  great  con- 
course of  London  streets  that  the  rolling  of  the 
numerous  vehicles  incessantly  thundering  overhead, 
and  even  the  voices  of  wayfarers,  are  heard,  where, 
here  and  there,  a  grating  admits  a  glimmer  of  the 
light  of  day ;  yet  so  utterly  cut  off  from  all  com- 
munion with  the  busy  world  above,  so  lonely  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  great  and  populous  city, 
that  of  the  thousands  who  pass  along,  not  one  is 
even  conscious  of  the  proximity  of  the  wretched 
wanderer  creeping  in  noisome  darkness  and  peril 
beneath  his  very  feet.  A  source  of  momentary 
destruction  ever  lurking  in  these  gloomy  regions 
exists  in  the  gases,  which  generate  in  their  confined 
and  putrefying, atmosphere,  and  sometimes  explode 
with  a  force  sufficient  to  dislodge  the  very  masonry ; 
or  which,  taking  light  from  the  contact  of  the  lantern, 
might  envelope  the  miserable  intruder  in  sudden 
flame.  Many  venturers  have  been  struck  down  in 
such  a  dismal  pilgrimage,  to  be  heard  of  no  more ; 
may  have  fallen  suddenly  choked,  sunk  bodily  in 
the  treacherous  slime,  become  a  prey  to  swarms  of 
voracious  rats,  or  have  been  overwhelmed  by  a 
sudden  increase  of  the  polluted  stream." 

The  polite  Lord  Chesterfield  was  asked  by  an 
enthusiastic  Parisian  whether  London  could  show  a 
river  like  the  Seine.  "  Yes,"  replied  his  lordship, 
"we  call  it  Fleet  Ditch." 

The  following  serves  to  show  what  nourishing 
contributions  of  refuse  were  made  to  the  Fleet  :— 
"  A  fatter  boar  was  hardly  ever  seen,"  says  the 
Gentkmaiis  Magazine  for  1836,  "than  one  taken 
up  this  day  (24th  August,  1736)  coming  out  of 
Fleet  Ditch  into  the  Thames.  It  proved  to  be  a 
butcher's,  near  Smithfield  Bars,  who  had  missed 
him  five  months,  all  which  time  he  had  been  in 
the  common  sewer,  and  was  improved  in  price 
from  ten  shillings  to  two  guineas." 

Turmnill  Street,  pulled  down  in  the  Clerkenwell 
improvements  of  1856-7, was  undoubtedlyforseveral 
centuries  one  of  the  most  disreputable  streets  in  all 
London.  It  is  mentioned  as  Trylmyl  Streate  as 
early  as  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.  It  is  marked  in 
Aggas's  map,  and  is  noticed  in  a  letter  from  Recorder 
Fleetwood  to  Burleigh  in  1585  as  a  place  for  thieves' 
houses.  The  name  was  sometimes  corrupted  into 
Turnbull  and  Trunball  Street.  It  seems  to  have 
been  the  very  sink  of  the  vice  of  London,  and  to 
have  been  frequented  by  highwaymen  and  rogues  of 
every  description.  It  is  mentioned  as  an  infamous 
resort  by  some  half-dozen  of  the  EUzabethan 
dramatists,  more  especially  by  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,  Lodowick  Barry,  Marston,  Middleton, 
Ben  Jonson,  Randolph,  Webster,  &c.  Nor  must 
Ave  forget  that  it  was  of  his  wild  and  youthful  feats 


The  Fleet  River.l 


AN  INFAMOUS  NEIGHBOURHOOD. 


425 


in  Turabull  Street  that  Justice  Shallow  brags  of  to 
Falstaff.  Here  the  Pistols  and  Bardolphs  of  the 
time  swaggered  and  cheated,  and  here  the  Tybalts 
of  the  day  occasionally  received  their  quietus  from 
a  subtle  thrust. 

"At  the  close  of  the  last  century,"  says  Mr. 
Pinks,  "  a  reward  of  ;£soo  was  offered  by  pro- 
clamation for  the  apprehension  of  one  Bunworth, 
the  leader  of  a  desperate  gang  of  thieves  ;  yet  none 
dared  to  attempt  his  capture,  such  was  the  weak 
state  of  the  Mw.  Once,  with  daring  effrontery,  '  on 
the  approach  of  evening  (to  quote  the  Newgate 
Calendar),  he  and  his  gang  ventured  towards  London, 
and  having  got  as  far  as  Turnmill  Street,  the  keeper 
of  the  Clerkenwell  Bridewell  happening  to  see 
Bunworth,  called  to  him,  and  said  he  wanted  to 
speak  with  him.  Bunworth  hesitated,  but  the  other 
assuring  him  that  he  intended  no  injury,  and  the 
thief  being  confident  that  his  associates  would  not 
desert  him,  swore  he  did  not  regard  the  keeper, 
whom  he  advanced  to  meet  with  a  pistol  in  his 
hand,  the  other  miscreants  walking  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  armed  with  cutlasses  and  pistols. 
I'his  singular  spectacle  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  populace.  A  considerable  crowd  soon  gathered 
round  them,  on  which  Bunworth  joined  his  com- 
panions, who  thought  their  safest  plan  would  be  to 
retreat  towards  the  fields ;  wherefore  they  kept 
together,  and,  facing  the  people,  retired  in  a  body, 
presenting  their  pistols,  and  swearing  they  would 
fire  on  any  who  should  molest  them.' 

"This  same  Bunworth  gave  another  proof  of 
his  audacity.  Sitting  down  at  the  door  of  a 
public -house  in  Holborn,  where  he  was  well 
known,  he  called  for  a  pint  of  beer  and  drank  it, 
holding  a  pistol  in  his  hand  by  way  of  pibtection. 
He  then  went  off  with  the  greatest  apparent  un- 
concern. 

"The  'White  Hart,'  in  Turnmill  Street,  opposite 
Cock  Court,  was  formerly  a  noted  house  of  call  for 
footpads  and  highwaymen.  It  was  long  since 
pulled  down.'' 

"In  1740,  Cave,  the  printer,"  says  Mr.  Pinks, 
"  purchased  a  machine  to  spin  wool  or  cotton  into 
thread  yarn,  or  worsted,  consisting  of  one  hundred 
spindles,  and  he  had  a  mill  erected  to  work  it,  on 
the  course  of  Turnmill  -Brook.  The  patentee,  Paul 
of  Birmingham,  undertook  its  management,  but  it 
was  never  brought  into  profitable  order." 

In  1416,  a  parchment-maker  of  Turnmill  Street, 
says  Stow,  was  drawn,  hanged,  and  beheaded,  for 
harbouring  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  the  good  Lord 
Cobham,  the  leader  of  the  insurgent  Lollards.  The 
parchment-maker's  head  was  spiked  upon  London 
Bridge.     Lollard  books  were  found  in  the  house 


of  the  unfortunate  man.  In  1624  Dr.  Thomas 
Worthington,  one  of  the  translators  of  the  Douay 
Bible,  and  author  of  "  The  Anker  of  Christian 
Doctrine,"  lived  in  Turnmill  Street. 

In  Faithorne's  Map  ©f  LoHdon,  1658,  the  houses 
on  the  west  side  of  Turnmill  Street  are  represented 
as  having  gardens  leading  down  to  the  Fleet,  which 
is  fenced  on  both  sides.  At  the  sign  of  the 
"Swan,"  on  the  west  side  of  Turnmill  Street,  lived, 
in  1 66 1,  Giles  Russell,  a  brewer,  who  left  an 
estate  in  Hertfordshire  for  the  education  of  three 
poor  children  of  Clerkenwell  parish  in  Christ's 
Hospital. 

"The  stream  north  of  Fleet  Bridge,"  say«  Mr. 
Pinks,  "justified  the  epithet  of  Turnmill  Brook  till 
a  comparatively  recent  period,  as  even  in  the 
present  century  it  gave  motion  to  flour  and  flatting 
mills  at  the  back  of  Field  Lane."  In  1741  an 
advertisement  in  the  Daily  Courant  announces  a 
house  to  let  in  Bowling  Alley,  Turnmill  Street, 
with  a  common  sewer,  with  a  good  stream  and 
current,  "  that  will  turn  a  mill  to  grind  hair-powder 
or  liquorish,  and  other  things." 

Among  other  infamous  lurking-places  of  thieves 
pulled  down  for  the  Clerkenwell  improvements  of 
1857,  was  the  notorious  West  Street,  formerly 
known  by  the  innocent  name  of  Chick  Lane. 
Stow  mentions  it,  in  1633,  as  near  a  timber  bridge 
that  crossed  Turnmill  Brook  (near  the  end  of 
Field  Lane).  In  a  flood  in  1661,  when  casks 
swam  down  the  streets,  several  hogs  were  washed 
out  of  their  sties  in  Castle  Inn  Yard,  Smithfield, 
and  were  carried  down  to  Chick  Lane. 

There  was  a  cruel  murder  committed  in  Chick 
Lane  in  1758.  Two  wornen  named  Metyard  killed 
a  woman  named  Naylor,  and  then  cut  up  the  body, 
intending  to  throw  the  pieces  down  the  gulley-hole 
in  Chick  Lane,  but  eventually  left  them  in  the 
mud  which  had  collected  before  the  grate  of  the 
sewer.  The  two  women  were  convicted  of  the 
murder  ten  years  after,  and  were  both  hung  at 
Tyburn  in  1768.  At  an  inquest,  in  1834,  at  the 
"  Horseshoe  and  Magpie,''  Saffron  Hill,  on  a  man 
found  dead  in  a  low  lodging-house  in  West  Sti-eet, 
the  landlady  deposed  that  in  her  house  there  were 
eight  beds  in  one  room,  and  two  or  three  persons 
in  each  bed. 

Near  Chick  Lane  was  Cow  Bridge,  mentioned 
by  Stow  as  north  of  Oldbourn  Bridge,  over  the 
River  of  Wells.  In  the  time  of  Elizabeth  the  ground 
from  Cow  Cross  towards  the  river  Fleet,  and 
towards  Ely  House,  was  either  entirely  vacant,  or 
occupied  with  gardens.  , 

"  Among  the  houses  in  West  Street,"  says  Mr. 
Pinks,  "  was  one  which  was,  at  the  time  when^it 


426 


OLD    AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[The  River  Fleet. 


was  demolished,  supposed  to  have  been  built  about 
three  hundred  years.  It  was  once  known  as  the 
'Red  Lion  Tavern,'  but  for  the  century  preceding 
its  destruction  it  was  used  as  a  lodging-house,  and 
was  the  resort  of  thieves,  and  the  lowest  grade 
of  the  frail  sisterhood.  It  was  numbered  3  in 
West  Street,  and  was  situate  on  the  north-west  side 
of  the  Fleet  Ditch,  a  few  houses  from  Saffron  Hill, 
and  at  the  eastern  corner  of  Brewhouse  Yard.  It 
was  sometimes  called  Jonathan  Wild's  House,  and 
'  the  Old  House  in  West  street.'  From  its  remark- 
able adaptation  as  a 
hiding-place,  with  its 
various  means  of 
escape,  it  was  a 
curious  habitation. 
Its  dark  closets,  trap- 
doors, sliding  panels, 
and  secret  recesses 
rendered  it  one  of  the 
most  secure  places 
for  robbery  and  mur- 
der. It  was  here  that 
a  chimney-sweep 
named  Jones,  who 
escaped  out  of  New- 
gate about  three  years 
before  the  destruction 
of  the  house,  was  so 
securely  hidden  for 
about  six  weeks,  that, 
although  it  was  re- 
peatedly searched  by 
the  police,  he  was ' 
never  discovered  until 
his  lair  was  divulged 
by  one  of  its  inmates, 
who,  by  incautiously 
observing  that  he 
knew  whereabouts 
Jones  was  concealed,  was  taken  up  and  remanded 
from  time  to  time  as  an  accessory  to  his  escape, 
but  who,  at  last,  tired  of  prison  fare  and  prison 
discipline,  pointed  out  the  place  to  obtain  his 
own  liberty.  Jones  was  concealed  by  parting 
off  a  portion  of  a  cellar  with  brickwork,  well 
besmeared  with  soot  and  dirt,  to  prevent  detection. 
This  cell,  or,  more  properly,  den,  was  about  four 
feet  wide,  by  nine  in  depth;  and  during  Jones's 
incarceration  therein,  he  had  food  conveyed  to  him 
through  a  small  aperture,  by  a  brick  or  two  being 
left  out  next  the  rafters.  It  was  here  that  a  sailor 
was  robbed,  and  afterwards  ilung  naked  through 
one  of  the  convenient  apertures  in  the  wall  into 
the  Fleet,  for  which  crime  two  men  and  a  woman 


UI.D   NEWGATE. 


were  transported.  A  skull,  and  numerous  human 
bones,  were  found  in  the  cellars.  Numerous 
parties  daily  visited  the  premises,  among  whom 
were  many  of  the  police  and  county  magistrates. 
It  was  said  to  have  been  the  rendezvous,  and  often 
the  hiding-place,  of  Jack  Sheppard  and  Jerry  Aber- 
shaw  ;  and  the  place  looked  as  if  many  a  foul  deed 
had  been  there  planned  and  decided  on,  the  sewer 
or  ditch  receiving  and  floating  away  anything 
thrown  into  it.  On  one  occasion  the  police  had 
surrounded  the  house  to  take  a  thief,  whom  they 

knew  to  be  there,  but 
he  made  his  escape  in 
their  actual  presence. 
At  another  time  an 
officer  went  into  one 
of  the  rooms  to  ap- 
prehend a  man,  and 
saw  him  in  bed. 
While  at  the  door, 
calling  to  another  to 
help  him,  he  turned 
his  head  and  saw  the 
man  getting  under 
the  bed.  He  did  not 
take  any  notice  of  it, 
z:-  but  when  the  other 
="  man  came  up,  on 
^  looking  under  the 
^^  bed,  the  man  had 
IlSr^  vanished.  After  some 
H?."\  search  they  disco- 
3^  g  vered  a  trap-door 
g;  I  through  which  one  of 
,^?  them  jumped,  but  he, 
0i'  breaking  his  leg  in  the 
^  fall,  the  fellow  es- 
caped. In  this  house 
was  a  place  where  a 
gang  of  coiners  carried 
on  their  trade,  and  had  also  a  private  still.  This 
place,  like  all  the  rest,  had  a  communication  with 
the  sewer.  In  one  of  the  garrets  was  a  secret 
door,  which  led  to  the  roof  of  the  next  house 
from  which  any  offender  could  be  in  Saffron  Hill 
in  a  few  minutes.  Amongst  Mr.  Crosby's  drawings 
are  a  view  of  this  old  house,  taken  August  10, 
1 844 ;  and  an  inner  view  of  the  cellar  windows, 
taken  August  19,  1844.  The  pulling  down  of  this 
house  was  com'-nenced  on  the  first  mentioned  date. 
It  appears  to  have  been  left  standing  several 
years  after  some  of  the  surrounding  buildings  had 
been  removed."  Three  views  of  the  old  house 
taken  shortly  before  its  demolition  are  given  on 
page  421. 


Newgate  Street.] 


CHRIST   CHURCH,   NEWGATE  STREET. 


427 


CHAPTER   LI. 

NEWGATE     STREET. 

Ciulst  Chm-ch,  Newgate  Street :  As  it  was  and  as  .t  is— Exorbitant  Burial  Fees— Ricliard  Baxter — Dr.  Trapp  and  Sir  John  Bosworth — ^Tlie 
Steeple  of  Christ  Church — The  Spital  Sermons— A  small  Giant  and  a  very  great  Dwarf— The  Adventures  of  Sir  Jeffrey  Hudson — Coleridge 
at  the  "  Salutation  and  Cat " — The  '*  Magpie  and  Stump  " — Tom  D'Uifey  at  the  "  Queen's  Arms  Tavern  " — The  College  of  Physicians  in 
Warwick  Lane — Some  Famous  Old  Physicians — Dr.  Radcliffe — The  College  of  Physicians  cruelly  duped — -Dr.  Mead — Other  Famous 
Physicians :  Askew,  Pitcairne,  Sir  Hans  Sloane — A  Poetical  Doctor— Monsey  and  his  Practical  Dentistry — The  Cauliflower  Club  :  the 
President's  Chair— The  Bagnio  in  Bath  Street — Cock  Lane  and  the  famous  Ghost:  Walpole  :  Dr.  Johnson:  the  Imposture  Deteciel: 
Scratching  Fanny  :  Coffin — Old  Inns  in  the  Neighbourhood  :  the  "  Old  BeH  :"  the  **  Oxford  Arms" — Snow  Hill  and  John  Banyan — Dobson. 


In  1244  four  Grey  Franciscan  friars  arrived  in 
London  from  Italy,  and  by  the  assistance  of  the 
"Preaching  Friars"  of 
Holbom,  obtained  a 
temporary  residence  in 
Cornhill.  They  soon 
found  patrons,  John 
Ewin,  a  mercer,  purchas- 
ing for  them  a  vacant 
spot  of  ground  in  the 
parish  of  St.  Nicholas 
Shambles  (from  a  flesh- 
market  held  there), 
which  he  gave  for  the 
use  of  these  friars ;  and 
William  Joyner,  Lord 
Mayor  in  1239  (Henry 
III.),  built  the  choir. 
Henry  Wallis,  a  suc- 
ceeding Lord  Mayor, 
added  the  body  of  the 
church.  A  new  and 
grander  church  was 
commenced  in  1306 
(Edward  I.)  at  the  j'oint 
expense  of  Queen  Mar- 
garet-, second  wife  of 
Edward    I. ;    John     of 


KING    UlAKLES'S   rORTER  AND   DWARF. 
iFroiH  the  old  bas-relief-^) 


Brittany,  Earl  of  Rich-mond;  Gilbert  de  Clare, 
the  Earl  of  Gloucester ;  and  other  pious  and 
generous  persons.  This  church,  according  to 
Stow,  was  consecrated  in  1325,  and  is  described 
as  30Q  feet  long,  89  feet  broad,  and  64  feet  2 
inches  high.  The  chancel  ceiling  was  painted,  and 
the  windows  glowed  with  stained  glass. 

In  connection  with  this  church  the  illustrious 
Richard  Whittington  founded  a  library,  in  1429, 
and  furnished  it  with  desks  and  settles  for  students. 
It  is  especially  noted  that  one  patient  transcriber 
was  paid  100  marks  for  copying  the  works  of 
Nicholas  de  Lira. 

At  the  dissolution,  Henry  VIII.,  who  iore  ali 
he  could  from  piety  and  poverty,  used  the  church 
as  a  warehouse  for  French  plunder.  In  1546  the 
king  gave  the  priory  (church,  library,  chapter-house. 


and  cloisters)  to  the  Mayor  and  Corporation  of 
London.  The  magnificent  tyrant,  at  the  same  time, 
gave  the  City  the  Hos- 
pital of  St.  Bartholomew 
the  Little,  and  the  parish 
churches  of  St.  Ewin  in 
Newgate  Market  and 
St.  Nicholas  in  the 
Shambles,  and  directed 
that  these  two  parishes, 
a  part  of  St.  Sepulchre's 
parish,  situated  within 
Newgate,  and  all  the 
site  of  the  late  dissolved 
priory,  should  form  one 
parish,  and  that  the 
church  of  the  priory 
should  be  the  parish 
church,  and  be  called 
"Christ  Church  within 
Newgate,  founded  by 
Henry  VIII." 

The  church,  swept 
away  in  the  fiery  flood 
of  1666,  was  rebuilt 
fiom  Wren's  design,  in 
1687,  and  was  com- 
pleted in  the  second 
The  patronage  of  Christ 


year  of  Queen  Anne. 
Church  is  vested  in  the  Mayor  and  Commonalty  ot 
London,  as  governors  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Hos- 
pital. The  parish  of  St.  Leonard,  Foster  Larie, 
was  united  to  that  of  Christ  Church,  and  the 
Dean  and  Chapter  of  Westminster,  patrons  of 
St.  Leonard's,  therefore  present  alternately.  By 
the  original  grant  of  Henry  VIII.  there  should 
be  five  assistant  readers.  The  present  Christ 
Church,  114  feet  long  and  81  broad,  is  not  more 
than  half  as  large  as  the  old  church,  the  western 
plot  of  ground  being  turned  into  a  burial-ground. 
The  steeple  is  153  feet  high.  The  interior  is 
generous  and  spacious,  with  a  wagon-headed  ceiling 
and  twelve  clerestory  windows,  with  the  old  pagan 
adornments  of  fat  cherubims,  tasteless  scrolls,  and 
coarse  foliage.    An  ornamental  band  connects  each 


428 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


(Newgate  Street 


Corinthian  column.  A  great  theatrical  gallery  at 
the  west  end,  piled  up  with  a  huge  organ,  is  set 
apart,  together  with  the  side  galleries,  for  the 
Bluecoat  boys.  The  pulpit  has  carved  panels 
representing,  after  a  fashion,  the  four  Evangelists 
and  the  Last  Supper.  The  marble  f®nt  is  carved 
■with  fruit,  flowers,  and  cherubims.  The  church  was 
repaired,  and  what  churchwardens  are  pleased  to 
call  beautified,  in  1834,  and  again  in  1862.  The 
old  burial  fees  in  the  happily  bygone  days  of  intra- 
mural interments  were  high  enough  at  this  church 
— ;£2  I  OS.  for  an  inhabitant  in  the  chancel;  ;^5 
fer  a  stranger.  While  the  lucky  inhabitant  paid 
jQ\2  I2S.  for  his  tombstone,  the  poor  stranger's 
friends  had  to  lay  down  jQi  r  for  his. 

On  the  north  wall  at  the  east  end  of  the  church 
is  a  brass  tablet  to  the  memory  of  Dame  Mary 
Ramsey,  who  died  in  1596,  and  who  established 
a  free  writing-school  in  Christ's  Hospital.  Here, 
where  queens  have  rested  and  murderers  mouldered, 
lies  the  great  Nonconformist  minister,  Richard 
Baxter,  on  whose  tomb  no  more  fitting  epitaph 
could  be  placed  than  the  title  of  his  own  book, 
"The  Saint's  Rest."  This  excellent  man,  of 
Shropshire  birth,  in  the  earlier  part  of -his  life 
became  master  of  a  free-school  at  Dudley.  In 
1638  he  took  orders,  having  then  no  scruples 
about  conformity,  but  soon  after,  some  Non- 
conformist friends  began  to  slowly  influence  his 
mind.  He  then  began  to  distrust  the  surplice, 
objected  to  the  cross  in  baptism,  and  found 
flaws  in  the  Prayer  Book  and  the  Liturgy.  In 
1640  he  was  minister  at  Kidderminster;  but 
when  the  civil  wars  broke  out,  and  after  Naseby, 
he  became  chaplain  to  Colonel  Whalley's  Puritan 
regiment,  and  was  present  at  several  sieges.  The 
Cavaliers  said  he  killed  one  of  their  party  and  stole 
his  medal,  a  story  which  Baxter  publicly  denied. 
On  his  preaching  against  Cromwell  he  was  sent 
for  to  Court,  and  told  of  the  great  things  God 
had  done  for  the  Parliament.  Baxter  repHed  that 
the  honest  people  of  the  land  took  their  ancient 
monarchy  to  be  a  blessing,  and  not  an  evil,  and 
humbly  craved  Cromwell's  patience,  that  he  might 
ask  him  how  they  had  forfeited  that  blessing,  and  to 
whom  that  forfeiture  was  made.  Cromwell  replied, 
angrily,  "There  was  no  forfeiture;  but  God  had 
changed  it  as  pleased  Him."  A  few  days  after, 
Cromwell  sent  to  ask  Baxter  for  his  opinion  on 
liberty  of  conscience,  which  Baxter  gave  him.  On 
Charles's  restoration,  Baxter,  who  was  a  sect  in 
himself,  was  appointed  one  of  the  king's  chaplains, 
and  was  frequently  with  the  godless  monarch.  He 
assisted  as  a  commissioner  at  the  Savoy  Conference, 
and  drew  up  a  reformed  liturgy.     Lord  Clarendon 


offered  this  crochety  but  honest  theologian  the 
bishopric  of  Hereford,  but  he  declined  the  appoint- 
ment, and  went  on  preaching  about  London.  For 
illegal  preaching  he  was  sent  to  gaol  for  six  months, 
but  eventually  discharged  before  the  expiration  ot 
that  period.  After  the  indulgence  in  1672  he 
preached  at  Pinner's  Hall,  in  Fetter  Lane,  in 
St.  James's  Market  House,  at  a  chapel  he  built 
himself  in  Oxenden  Street,  and  in  Southwark.  In 
1685  Baxter  was  taken  before  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Jefferies,  for  remarks  on  James  II.  in  his  "New 
Testament  Paraphrase,"  and  sent  to  prison,  after 
much  vulgar  abuse  from  Jefferies,  for  two  years,  but 
in  1686  he  was  pardoned  by  King  James.  At 
Baxter's  last  disgraceful  trial,  that  cruel  bully,  the 
Lord  Chief  Justice,  told  him  that  Oates  was  then 
standing  in  the  pillory  in  New  Palace  Yard,  and 
that  if  he  (Baxter)  was  on  the  other  side  of  the 
pillory  at  the  same  time,  he  (Jefferies)  would  say 
that  two  of  the  greatest  rogues  and  rascals  in  the 
kingdom  stood  there.  Like  an  avalanche  of  mud 
the  foul  words  poured  forth  from  this  unjust  judge. 
"Ay,"  said  Jeff'eries,  "this  is  your  Presbyterian 
cant ;  truly  called  to  be  bishops ;  that  is,  himself 
and  such  rascals,  called  to  be  bishops  of  Kidder- 
minster, and  other  such  places ;  bishops  set  apart 
by  such  factious,  snivelling  Presbyterians  as  him- 
self; a  Kidderminster  bishop,  he  means.  Accord- 
ing to  the  saying  of  a  late  learned  author,  every 
parish  shall  maintain  a  tithe-pig  metropolitan."  Mr. 
Baxter  beginning  to  speak  again,  says  he  to  him, 
"  Richard,  Richard,  dost  thou  think  we  will  hear 
thee  poison  the  court,  &c.  ?  Richard,  tlrou  art  an 
old  fellow — an  old  knave ;  thou  hast  written  books 
enough  to  load  a  cart,  every  one  as  full  of  sedition 
(I  might  say,  treason)  as  an  egg  is  full  of  meat. 
Hadst  thou  been  whipped  out  of  thy  writing-trade 
forty  years  ago  it  had  been  happy.  Thou  pre- 
tendest  to  be  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  of  peace, 
and  thou  hast  one  foot  in  the  grave ;  'tis  time  for 
thee  to  begin  to  think  what  account  thou  intendest 
to  give.  But  leave  thee  to  thyself,  and  I  see  thoul't 
go  on  as  thou  hast  begun ;  but,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  I  will  look  after  thee.  I  know  thou  hast  a 
mighty  party,  and  I  see  a  great  many  of  the  brother- 
hood in  corners,  waiting  to  see  what  will  become 
of  their  mighty  don,  and  a  doctor  of  the  party 
(looking  to  Dr.  Bates)  at  your  elbow ;  but,  by  the 
grace  of  Almighty  God,  I'll  cmsh  you  all." 

After  this  Baxter  retired  to  a  house  in  Charter- 
house Yard,  where  he  assisted  a  Mr.  Sylvester 
every  Sunday  morning,  and  preached  a  lecture 
every  Thursday.  He  died  in  the  year  1691. 
Baxter  is  said  to  have  written  more  than  145  dis- 
tinct treatises,     This  spmewhat  hair-splitting  man 


Newgate  Str*,:  J] 


THE  SPITAL  SERMONS. 


429 


believed  in  election,  but  rejected  the  doctrine  of 
reprobation.  If  any  one  improved  the  common 
grace  given  to  all  mankind,  it  was  Baxter's  belief 
that  the  improvement  must  be  followed  by  special 
grace,  which  led  one  on  to  final  acceptance  and 
salvation.  This  was  the  half-way  road  between 
Calvinism  and  Arminianism. 

On  the  east  wall  is  a  tablet  to  the  memory  of 
Dr.  Trapp,  who  was  vicar  of  the  united  parishes 
of  Christ  Church  and  St.  Leonard,  Foster  Lane, 
for  twenty-six  years,  and  died  in  1747.  This 
learned  translator  and  controversialist  lived  in 
Warwick  Lane.  Near  the  communion-table  is  a 
large  monument  to  Sir  John  Bosworth,  Chamberlain 
of  the  City,  who  died  in  1 749,  and  his  wife,  Dame 
Hester  Bosworth ;  and  also  a  plain  tablet  to  Mr. 
John  Stock,  many  years  a  painter  at  the  Royal  Dock- 
yard, and  who  died  in  1781.  He  left  ^^13,700  for 
charitable  and  philanthropic  purposes.  A  marble 
monument,  with  a  bust,  records  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Crowther,  nearly  thirty  years  incumbent  of  this 
church.  He  was  a  grandson  of  Richardson,  the 
novelist,  and  was  born  in  New  Boswell  Court. 
He  was  struck  down  with  apoplexy  while  reading 
morning  prayers.  The  inscription  to  his  memory 
runs  thus  : — 

"  This  monument  is  raised  by  his  grateful  parishioners  and 
friends  to  the  memory  of  the  Reverend  Samuel  Crowther, 
M.A.,  formerly  fellow  of  New  College,  Oxford,  and  nearly 
thirty  years  minister  of  these  united  parishes.  He  was 
bom  January  9,  1769,  and  died  September  28,  1829. 
Gifted  with  many  excellent  endo%vments,  he  was  enabled 
by  grace  to  consecrate  all  to  the  service  of  his  Divine 
Master.  The  zeal,  perseverance,  and  fidelity  with  which, 
under  much  bodily  infirmity,  he  laboured  in  this  place  till 
his  last  illness  (borne  nearly  five  years  with  exemplary 
resignation),  his  humble,  disinterested,  and  catholic  spirit, 
his  suavity  of  manners,  and  sanctity,  of  life,  manifested  a 
self-devotion  to  the  cause  of  Christ,  and  the  best  interests 
of  mankind,  never  to  be  forgotten  by  his  flock  ;  to  -whom 
he  endeared  himself,  not  more  in  the  able  discharge  of 
his  public  duties  than  in  his  assiduous  and  affectionate 
ministrations,  as  their  private  counsellor,  comforter,  and 
friend ;  and  among  whom  the  young,  the  poor,  and  the 
afflicted  were  the  especial  objects  of  his  solicitude.  To 
the  excellence  of  that  gospel  which  he  preached  with  a 
simple  and  persuasive  eloquence,  that  gained  every  ear,  his 
life  has  left  a  testimony,  sealed  in  death,  by  which  he  yet 
speaks." 

The  ten  tombs  of  alabaster  and  marble,  and  the 
140  marble  gravestones  from  this  church,  sold  for 
;^5o  by  the  greedy  goldsmith,  Martin  Bowes,  we 
have  already  mentioned,  in  our  chapter  on  Christ's 
Hospital. 

Among  the  more  remarkable  epitaphs  is  the 
foUoOTng,  on  the  tablet  to  the  memory  of  the  Rev. 
Joseph  Trapp  just  referred  to.  It  was  written  by 
Trapp  himself: — 


"Death,  judgement,  heaven  and  hell!  think,  Christian, 
think  ! 
You  stand  on  vast  eternity's  dread  brink ; 
Faith  and  repentance,  piety  and  prayer, 
Despise  this  world,  the  next  be  all  your  care  ; 
Thus,  while  my  tomb  the  solemn  silence  breaks. 
And  to  the  eye  this  cold  dumb  marble  speaks, 
Tho'  dead  I  preach  :  if  e'er  with  ill  success 
Living,  I  strove  the  important  truths  to  press, 
■Your  precious,  your  immortal  souls  to  save. 
Hear  me  at  least,  oh,  hear  me  from  the  grave  !" 

The  steeple  of  Christ  Church  is  thought  by 
many  very  pleasing.  "  It  rises,"  says  Mr.  Godwin, 
who  in  some  respects  condemns  it,  "  as  all  Wren's 
towers  do  rise,  and  as  all  towers  should  rise, 
directly  from  the  ground,  giving  to  the  mind  of 
the  beholder  that  assurance  of  stability  which 
under  other  circumstances  is  wanting."  There  are 
small  Grecian  columns  on  each  storey  of  the 
tower,  and  an  elliptical  pediment.  The  vases  on 
the  top  of  the  peristyle  were  taken  down  some 
years  ago.  The  basement  storey  of  the  tower  is 
open  on  three  sides,  and  forms  a  porch  to  the  east 
chancel.  The  east  end,  which  faces  King  Edward 
Street,  is  disfigured  by  two  enormous  buttresses. 
In  a  vault,  discovered  in  1790,  near  the  church, 
is  the  well-preserved  body  of  a  man,  supposed  to 
be  that  of  some  Newgate  malefactor. 

The  Spital  sermons,  says  Mr.  TroUope  in  1834, 
in  his  book  on  Christ's  Hospital,  originated  in  an 
old  custom,  by  which  some  learned  person  was 
appointed  yearly  by  the  Bishop  of  London  to 
preach  at  St.  Paul's  Cross,  on  Good  Friday,  on  the 
subject  of  "Christ's  Passion.''  On  the  Monday, 
Tuesday,  and  Wednesday  following,  three  other 
divines  were  appointed  to  uphold  the  doctrine  of 
"The  Resurrection,"  at  the  pulpit-cross  in  the 
Spital  (Spitalfields).  On  the  Sunday  following,  a 
fifth  preached  at  Paul's  Cross,  and  passed  judgment 
upon  the  merits  of  those  who  had  preceded  him. 
At  these  sermons  the  Lord  Mayor  and  aldermen 
attended,  ladies  also,  on  the  Monday,  forming 
part  of  the  procession ;  and,  at  the  close  of  each  ' 
day's  solemnity,  his  lordship  and  the  sheriffs  gave  a 
private  dinner  to  such  of  their  friends  amongst  the 
aldermen  as  attended  the  sermon.  From  this  prac- 
tice the  civic  festivities  at  Easter  were  at  length 
extended  to  a  magnificent  scale.  The  children  of 
Christ's  Hospital  took  part  in  the  above  solem- 
nities, so  that,  in  1594,  when  it  became  necessary 
to  rebuild  the  pulpit-cross  at  the  Spital,  a  gallery 
was  erected  also  for  their  accommodation.  In  the 
great  Rebellion  the  pulpit  was  destroyed,  and  the 
sermons  were  discontinued  till  the  Restoration, 
after  which  the  three  Spital  sermons,  as  they  were 
still  called,  were  revived  at  St.  Bride's  Church, 


43« 


OLD   AND    NEW    LONDON. 


[Newgate  Street. 


Fleet  Street.  They  have  since  been  reduced  to 
two,  and,  from  1797,  have  been  delivered  at  Christ 
Church,  Newgate  Street. 

It  was  on  their  first  appearance  at  the  Spital  that 
the  children  of  Christ's  Hospital  wore  the  blue 
costume  by  which  they  have  since  been  dis- 
tinguished. "Instead  of  the  subjects,"  continues 
Mr.  Trollope,  "  which  were  wont  to  be  discussed 
from  the  pulpit-cross  of  St  Mary  Spital,  discourses 
are  now  delivered  commemorative  of  the  objects  of 
the  five  sister  hospitals  ;  and  a  report  is  read  of  the 
number  of  children  maintained  and  educated,  and 
of  sick,  disorderly,  and  lunatic  persons  for  whom 
provision  is  made  in  each  respectively.  On  each 
day  the  boys  of  Christ's  Hospital,  with  the  legend 
'  He  is  risen '  attached  to  their  left  shoulders,  form 
part  of  the  civic  procession,  walking,  on  the  first 
day,  in  the  order  of  their  schools,  the  king's  boys 
bearing  their  nautical  instruments,  and,  on  the 
second,  according  to  their  several  wards,  headed 
by  their  nurses.'' 

A  curious  old  bas-relief,  says  Mr.  Cunningham 
(writing  in  1849),  I'o'^  ill-cut,  over  the  entrance  to 
Bull's  Head  Court,  preserves  the  memory  of  a 
small  giant  and  a  very  great  dwarf.  The  quaint 
efligies  of  the  disproportioned  couple  represent 
William  Evans,  an  enormous  Welsh  porter,  at  White- 
hall, in  the  service  of  Charles  I.,  and  Sir  Geoffrey, 
or  Jeffrey  Hudson,  the  vain  but  gallant  dwarf 
immortalised  by  Scott,  in  "  Peveril  of  the  Peak." 
This  bas-relief,  Walpole  thinks,  was  probably  a 
shop-sign.  Evans,  a  mammoth-like  man,  stood 
seven  feet  six  inches  high,  while  his  choleric  com- 
panion was  only  three  feet  nine  inches.  At  a  court 
masque  at  Whitehall,  the  porter  drew  Sir  Jeffrey  out 
of  his  pocket,  to  the  amazement  and  amusement 
of  all  the  ladies  of  that  not  too  respectable  court. 

"  Hudson's  first  appearance  at  Court,"  says  Sir 
Walter,  in  a  note  to  "Peveril  of  the  Peak,"  "was 
Iris  being  presented,  as  mentioned  in  the  text,  in 
a  pie,  at  an  entertainment  given  by  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham  to  CharleS  I.  and  Henrietta  Maria. 
Upon  the  same  occasion  the  duke  presented  the 
tenant  of  the  pasty  to  the  queen,  who  retained  him 
as  her  page.  When  about  eight  years  of  age,  he 
was  but  eighteen  or  twenty  inches  high,  and  he  re- 
mained stationary  at  that  stature  till  he  was  thirty 
years  old,  when  he  grew  to  the  height  of  three  feet 
nine  inches,  and  there  stopped."  Being  teased  by 
a  young  gallant,  named  Crofts,  who  threatened  to 
drown  him  with  a  syringe,  Hudson  called  out  his 
antagonist  at  Calais,  and  killed  him  with  his  first 
shot. 

"  This  singular  lusus  natures"  says  Scott,  "  was 
trusted  in  some  negotiations  of  consequence.     He 


went  to  France,  to  fetch  over  a  midwife  to  his 
mistress,  Henrietta  Maria.  On  his  return  he  was 
taken  by  Dunkirk  privateers,  when  he  lost  many 
valuable  presents  sent  to  the  queen  from  France, 
and  about  ^^2,500  of  his  own.  Sir  William 
Davenant  makes  a  real  or  supposed  combat  be- 
tween the  dwarf  and  a  turkey-cock  the  subject  of 
a  poem  called  '  Jeffreidos.'  The  scene  is  laid  at 
Dunkirk,  where,  as  the  satire  concludes — 

'  Jeffrey  strait  was  thrown  when,  faint  and  weak, 
The  cruel  fowl  assaults  him  with  his  beak. 
A  lady  midwife  now  he  there  by  chance 
Espied,  that  came  along  with  him  from  France. 
"  A  heart  brought  up  in  war,  that  ne'er  before 
This  time  could  bow,"  he  said,  "doth  now  implore 
Thou,  that  ddivered  hast  so  many,  be 
So  kind  of  nature  as  deliver  me. " ' 

"  In  1644  the  dwarf  attended  his  royal  mistress  to 
France.  The  Restoration  recalled  him,  with  other 
royalists,  to  England.  But  this  poor  being,  who 
received,  it  would  seem,  hard  measure  both  from 
nature  and  fortune,  was  not  doomed  to  close  his 
days  in  peace.  Poor  Jeffrey,  upon  some  suspicion 
respecting  the  Popish  Plot,  was  taken  up  in  1682, 
and  confined  in  the  Gatehouse  Prison,  Westminster, 
where  he  ended  his  life,  in  the  sixty-third  year  of 
his  age.  Jeffrey  Hudson  has  been  immortaUsed  by 
the  brush  of  Vandyke,  and  his  clothes  are  said  to 
be  preserved  as  articles  of  curiosity  in  Sir  Hans 
Sloane's  museum." 

It  was  to  the  "  Salutation  and  Cat "  (odd  com- 
bination of  two  incongruous  signs).  No.  17,  New- 
gate Street,  that  Coleridge  used  to  retreat,  in  his 
youthful  fits  of  melancholy  abstraction  at  college 
debts,  bad  health,  impotency  of  will,  and  lost 
opportunities.  This  was  about  the  time  that,  by 
a  wild  impulse,  one  day,  at  the  corner  of  Chancery 
Lane,  the  young  philosopher  enlisted  in  the  15th 
Light  Dragoons,  under  the  odd  north-country 
name  of  Comberbach.  It  was  at  the  "Salutation 
and  Cat"  that  Southey  one  day  ferreted  out  the 
lost  dreamer,  the  veritable  Alnaschar  of  modern 
literature,  and  tried  to  rouse  him  from  the  trance 
of  fear  and  half-insane  idleness.  The  "Magpie 
and  Stump,"  a  very  old  inn  on  the  north  side  of 
this  street  (where  the  old  sign  of  the  place  was 
reverently  preserved  in  the  bar),  has  lately  been 
pulled  down. 

At  a  convivial  meeting  at  the  "  Queen's  Arms 
Tavern"  (No.  70),  says  Peter  Cunningham,  Tom 
D'Urfey  obtained  the  suggestion  of  his  merry  but 
coarse  miscellany,  "  Pills  to  purge  Melancholy." 
This  Court  wit,  a  naturalised  French  Huguenot, 
seems  to  have  been  the  gay,  witty,  careless  Captam 
Morris  of  his  day.     People  often  spoke  of  seeing 


ijewgate  Street.] 


DR.   RADCLIFFE. 


431 


King  Charles  II.,  at  Whitehall,  leaning  on  Tom's 
shoulder  and  humming  over  a  song  with  him,  and 
to  have  heard  him  at  Kensington,  singing  his  own 
gay  songs,  to  amuse  heavy  Queen  Anne.  He  was 
the  author  of  thirty-one  plays,  which  have  not  been 
forgotten  by  original  dramatists  of  a  later  date.  He 
became  poor  in  his  old  age,  and  Addison  saved  him 
from  poverty  by  a  well-timed  theatrical  benefit. 

In  Warwick  Lane,  south  side  of  Newgate  Street, 
a  College  of  Physicians  was  built  by  Wren,  when 
the  Great  I'ire  had  destroyed  their  house  at  Amen 
Corner,  where  Harvey  had  lectured  on  his  great 
discovery  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  The 
house,  built  on  part  of  the  mansion  of  the  old 
Earl  of  Warwick,  was  began  in  1674,  and  opened 
in  1689.  The  special  point  of  the  college  was 
the  octagonal  domed  entrance-porch,  forty  feet  in 
diameter,  which  was  a  tour  de  force  of  the  in- 
genious architect.  The  interior  above  the  porch 
was  the  lecture-room,  light,  lofty,  and  open  to  the 
roof.  Garth,  in  "The  Dispensary" — his  pleasant 
satire  g,gainst  the  apothecaries,  thus  sketched  it — 

"  Not  far  from  that  most  celebrated  place 
Where  angry  Justice  shows  her  awful  face, 
Where  little  villains  must  submit  to  fate, 
That  great  ones  may  enjoy  the  world  in  state, 
There  stands  a  dome,  majestic  to  the  sight, 
And  sumptuous  arches  bear  its  oval  height ; 
A  golden  globe,  plac'd  high  with  artful  skill, 
Seems  to  the  distant  sight — a  gilded  pill." 

The  amphitheatre,  afterwards  degraded  into  a 
meat-market,  is  praised  by  Elmes  for  its  convenient 
arrangement  and  its  acoustic  qualities.  Nor  could 
even  the  modern  Goth  despise  the  fine  lofty  hall, 
the  magnificent  staircase,  the  stucco-garlands  of 
the  dining-room,  and  the  carved  oak  chimney-piece 
and  gallery.  On  the  north  and  south  were  the 
residences  of  the  college  officers,  on  the  west  the 
principal  front,  two-storeyed,  the  lower  Ionic,  the 
upper  Corinthian.  On  the  east  was  the  octagon, 
mth  the  gilt  ball  above,  and  below  a  statue  of  Sir 
John  Cutler. 

About  this  same  Cutler  an  odd  story  is  told, 
which  is  well  worth  repeating. 
.  In  1675  (Charles  II.)  Sir  John  Cutler,  a  rich  City 
man,  and  a  notorious  miser,  related'to  Dr.  Whistler, 
the  president  of  the  college,  expressed  a  generous 
wish  to  contribute  largely  to  the  rebuilding  of  the 
house,  and  a  committee  was  actually  appointed  to 
thank  him  for  his  kind  intentions.  Cutler  gravely 
accepted  the  thanks,  renewed  his  promises,  and 
mentioned  the  parts  of  the  building  for  which  he 
intended  to  pay.  In  1686  the  college,  grateful  for 
favours  yet  to  come,  voted  statues  to  the  king  and 
Cutler,  and  nine  years  afterwards  borrowed  money 
of  Sir  John,  to  discharge  some  builder's  debts,  the 


college  being  now  completed.  This  loan  seems  to 
have  in  some  way  changed  Cutler's  intentions,  for 
in  1699  his  executors  brought  a  demand  on  the 
college  for  ^£7,000,  including  the  promised  sum, 
which  had  never  been  given,  but  had  been  set 
down  as  a  debt.  The  indignant  college  threw 
down  ;^2,ooo,  whicli  the  imperturbable  executors 
took  as  payment  in  full.  The  college  at  once 
erased  the  grateful  inscription — 

"  Omnis  Cutleri  cedit  labor  Amphitheatro," 
which  they  had  engraved  on  the  pedestal  of  the 
miser's  statue,  and  would  no  doubt  have  ground 
the  statue  down  to  powder,  had  they  not  been 
ashamed. 

This  Cutler  was  the  same  Volpone  whom  Pope 
mentions,  in  his  "Moral  Essay:" — 

"  His  grace's  fate  sage  Cutler  could  foresee, 
And  well  (he  thought)  advised  him,  '  Live  like  me.' 
As  M'ell  his  grace  replied,  '  Like  you,  Sir  John  ? 
That  I  can  do,  when  all  I  have  is  gone.'" 

Cutler  is  ridiculed  by  Arbuthnot,  in  his  "  Scrib- 
lerus,"  where,  in  ridicule  of  one  of  Locke's  philo- 
sophic opinions,  he  describes  a  pair  of  Cutler's 
cottons,  which  were  darned  so  often  by  his  maid, 
that  they  at  last  became  silk.  Cutler's  funeral  is 
said  to  have  cost  ^'j,ooo,  and  one  of  his  daughters 
married  the  Earl  of  Radnor. 

Some  anecdotes  of  the  old  physicians  who  have 
paced  up  and  down  Warwick  Lane  seem  almost 
indispensable  to  a  sketch,  however  brief,  of  the  old 
College  of  Physicians.  Nor  can  we  begin  better 
than  with  the  famous  Dr.  Radcliffe, 'the  first  pre- 
eminent physician  that  arose  after  the  removal  of 
the  college  to  the'  building  erected  by  Wren  in 
Warwick  Lane.  Radcliffe,  a  man  eager  for  money, 
and  of  rough  Abernethy  manners,  had  the  cream  of 
all  the  London  practice,  when  he  lived  in  Bow 
Street,  next  door  to  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  the  great 
painter.  He  was  brusque  even  with  kings.  When 
called  in  to  see  King  William,  at  Kensington,  find- 
ing his  legs  dropsically  swollen,  he  frankly  said, 
'I  would  not  have  your  two  legs,  your  Majesty, 
not  for  your  three  kingdoms;"  and  on  another 
visit  the  Jacobite  doctor  boldly  told  the  little 
Dutch  hero — "Your  juices  are  all  vitiated,  your 
whole  mass  of  blood  corrupted,  and  the  nutriment 
for  the  most  part  turned  to  water ;  but,"  added  the 
doctor,  "  if  your  Majesty  will  forbear  making  long 
visits  to  the  Earl  of  Bradford"  (where,  to  tell  the 
truth,  the  king  was  wont  to  drink  very  hard),  "  I'll 
engage  to  make  you  live  three  or  four  years  longer, 
but  beyond  that  time  no  physic  can  protract  your 
Majesty's  existence." 

On  one  occasion,  when  RadcHfife  was  sent  for 
from  the  tavern  (for  he  did  not  dislike  wine)  by 


432 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Newgate  Street. 


Queen  Anne,  he  tiatly  refused  to  leave  his  bottle 
and  the  company.  "  Tell  her  Royal  Highness,"  he 
bellowed,  "  that  it's  nothing  but  the  vapours.  She 
is  as  well  as  any  woman  breathing,  only  she  won't 
believe  it."  With  a  fantastic  wit  worthy  of  Sydney 
Smith  himself,  he  told  a  hypochondriacal  lady 
who  consulted  him  about  a  nervous  singing  in  the 
head,  to  "curl  her  hair  with  a  ballad;"  and  in  his 
vexation  at  the  fancies  of  female  patients,  he  antici- 


Spoonfuls  of  hot  pudding  were  discharged  on  both 
sides,  and  at  last  handfuls  were  pelted  at  each  other. 
The  patient  was  seized  with  a  hearty  fit  of  laughter, 
the  quinsy  burst,  and  discharged  its  contents,  and 
my  master  soon  completed  the  cure." 

Steele,  in  the  Tatkr,  ridiculed  the  old  doctor's 
love-making.  Dr.  Radclifife  was  unlucky  enough  to 
be  accused  by  the  Whigs  of  kilKng  Queen  Mary,  and 
by  the  Tories  of  causing  the  death  of  Queen  Anne, 


COLLKGl!.   01'    PHYSICIANS,    WARWICK   LANE.      INTERIOR   OF  THE  QUADRANGLE. 


pated  female  doctors,  by  proposing  an  Act  of  Par- 
liament to  entitle  nurses  alone  to  attend  women. 

"  Dr.  Radclifife  was  once  sent  for,"  says  the 
author  of  "The  Gold-headed  Cane,"  "into  the 
country,  to  visit  a  gentleman  ill  of  a  quinsy.  Find- 
ing that  no  external  or  internal  application  would 
be  of  service,  he  desired  the  lady  of  the  house  to 
order  a  hasty-pudding  to  be  made.  When- it  jivas 
done,  his  own  servants  were  to  bring  it  up ;  and 
while  the  pudding  was  preparing,  he  gave  them  his 
private  instructions.  In  a  short  time  it  was  set  on 
the  table,'  and  in  full  view  of  the  patient.  '  Come, 
Jack  and  Dick,'  said  Radclifife,  '  eat  as  quickly  as 
possible ;  you  have  had  no  breakfast  this  morning.' 
Both  began  with  their  spoons;  but  on  Jack's 
dipping  once  only  for  Dick's  twice,  a  quarrel  arose. 


by  refusing  to  attend  her  in  her  last  illness.  He 
was  himself  dying  at  the  time,  and  was  unable  to 
attend ;  but  the  clamour  of  the  mob  was  so  loud, 
accompanied  even  by  threats  of  assassination,  that 
they  are  said  to  have  hastened  the  great  physician's 
death,  which  took  place  just  three  months  after  the 
queen  died. 

Dr.  Mead,  the  physician  of  George  IL,  was,  unlike 
Radcliffe,  a  polished  and  learned  mail,  who  suc- 
ceeded to  much  of  his  predecessor's  business,  and 
occupied  his  old  house  in  Bloomsbury  Square. 
He  was  the  first  doctor  to  encourage  inoculation 
for  the  small-pox,  and  practised  the  Oriental  system 
on  six  condemned  criminals,  with  the  consent  of 
George  I.  He  attended  Pope,  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
and  Bishop. Burnet  in  their  last  illnesses.     Meiad  is 


Newgate  Street.] 


MEAD  AND  ASKEW. 


433 


said  to  have  gained  nearly  ;^6,ooo  a  year,  yet 
was  so  hospitable,  that  he  did  not  leave  more 
than  ;£s°!°°°-  When  not  at  his  house  in  Great 
Ormond  Street,  Mead  usually  spent  his  evenings  at 
"Batson's"  Coffee  House,  and  in  the  afternoon  his 
apothecaries  used  to  meet  him  at  "Toms',"  near 


Dr.  Askew,  another  of  the  great  physicians  of  the 
Georgian  era,  lived  in  Queen  Square,  where  he 
crammed  his  house  with  books,  and  entertained 
such  men  as  Archbishop  Markham,  Sir  William 
Jones,  Dr.  Farmer,  "Demosthenes"  Taylor,  Dr. 
Parr,   and   Hogarth.     The   sale   of    Dr.  Askew's 


COCK   LANE. 


Covent  Garden,  with  written  or  verbal  reports  of 
cases  for  which  he  prescribed  without  seeing  the 
patient,  and  took  half-guinea  fees.  He  died  in 
I7S4,  and  was  buried  in  the  Temple.  As  an  in- 
stance of  Mead's  generosity  the  following  story  is 
told:— In  1723,  when  the  celebrated  Dr.  Friend,  a 
friend  of  Atterbury,  was  sent  to  the  Tower,  Mead 
kindly  took  his  practice,  and  on  his  release  by  Sir 
Robert  Walpole,  presented  the  escaped  Jacobite 
with  the  result,  5,000  guineas. 
85_VoL.  II. 


library,  in  York  Street,  Covent  Garden   (i7SS)» 
occupied  twenty  days. 

Dr.  William  Pitcairn,  who  resided  in  Warwick 
Court,  Warwick  Lane,  was  for  several  years  pre- 
sident of  the  college.  Dr.  Baillie,  another  eminent 
physician  here,  was  a  nephew  of  the  great  John 
Hunter.  Sir  Hans  Sloane  was  elected  President 
of  the  College  of  Physicians  in  17 19.  He  was  an 
Irishman  by  birth,  and  a  Scotchman  by  descent, 
and  had  accompanied  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  to 


434 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tNewgate  Street. 


Jamaica  as  his  physician.  In  1727  he  was  created 
President  of  the  Royal  Society,  on  the  death  of  Sir 
Isaac  Newton,  and  became  physician  to  George  II. 
On  his  death,  in  1753,  his  museum  and  library  were 
purchased  by  the  nation,  and  became  the  nucleus 
of  the  British  Museum. 

In  this  brief  notice  of  early  physicians  we  must 
not  forget  to  include  that  very  second-rate  poet, 
Sir  Richard  Blackmore,  son  of  a  Wiltshire  attorney. 
No  poor  poet  was  ever  so  ridiculed  as  this  great 
man  of  Saddlers'  Hall.  Dryden  and  Pope  both 
set  him  up  in  their  Parnassian  pillory ;  and  of  him 
Swift  wrote — 

"  Sternhold  himself  he  out-SternhoIded. " 
Dryden  called  him — 

"  A  pedant,  canting  preacher,  and  a  quack." 

In  spite  of  this  endless  abuse  of  a  well-meaning 
man,  William  III.  knighted  him,  and  Addison 
pronounced  his  ambitious  poem,  "The  Creation," 
to  be  "one  of  the  most  useful  and  noble  pro- 
ductions in  our  English  verse." 

Among  the  eccentric  physicians  who  have  paced 
up  and  down  Warwick  Lane,  and  passed  across 
the  shadow  of  the  Golden  Pill,  was  Monsey,  a 
friend  of  Garrick,  and  physician  to  Chelsea  College. 
Of  this  rough  old  cynic  Mr.  J.''  C.  Jeaffreson,  in 
his  "  Book  about  Doctors,"  tells  the  following 
capital  stories : — 

"Amongst  the  vagaries  of  this  eccentric  phy- 
sician," says  Mr.  Jeaffreson,  "was  the  way  in  which 
he  extracted  his  own  teeth.  Round  the  tooth 
sentenced  to  be  drawn  he  fastened  securely  a 
strong  piece  of  catgut,  to  the  opposite  side  of 
which  he  affixed  a  bullet.  With  this  bullet,  and  a 
full  measure  of  powder,  a  pistol  was  charged.  On 
the  trigger  being  pulled,  the  operation  was  per- 
formed effectually  and  speedily.  The  doctor  could 
only  rarely  prevail  upon  his  friends  to  permit  him  to 
remove  their  teeth  by  this  original  process.  Once 
a  gentleman  who  had  agreed  to  try  the  novelty, 
and  had  even  allowed  the  apparatus  to  be  adjusted, 
at  the  last  moment  exclaimed,  '  Stop,  stop,  I  have 
changed  my  mind  !'  'But  I  haven't,  and  you're  a 
fool  and  a  coward  for  your  pains,'  answered  the 
doctor,  pulling  the  trigger.  In  another  instant, 
the  tooth  was  extracted,  much  to  the  timid  patient's 
delight  and  astonishment 

"  Before  setting  out,  on  one  occasion,  for  a  journey 
to  Norfolk,  incredulous  with  regard  to  cash-boxes 
and  bureaus,  he  hid  a  considerable  quantity  of  gold 
and  notes  in  the  fireplace  of  his  study,  covering 
them  up  artistically  with  cinders  and  shavings.  A 
month  afterwards,  returning  (luckily  a  few  days 
before  he  was  expected),  he  found  his  old  house- 


maid preparing  to  entertain  a  few  friends  at  tea  in 
her  master's  room.  The  hospitable  domestic  was 
on  the  point  of  lighting  the  fire,  and  had  just 
applied  a  candle  to  the  doctor's  notes,  when  he 
entered  the  room,  seized  on  a  pail  of  water  that 
chanced  to  be  standing  near,  and,  throwing  its 
contents  over  the  fuel  and  the  old  woman,  extin- 
guished the  fire  and  her  presence  of  mind  at  the 
same  time.  Some  of  the  notes,  as  it  was,  were 
injured,  and  the  Bank  of  England  made  objections 
to  cashing  them." 

Monsey  lived  to  extreme  old  age,  dying  in  his 
Rooms  in  Chelsea  College  on  the  26th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1788,  in  his  ninety-fifth  year;  "and  his  will," 
continues  Mr.  Jeaffreson,  "was  as  remarkable  as 
any  other  feature  of  his  career.  To  a  young  lady 
mentioned  in  it,  with  the  most  lavish  encomiums 
on  her  wit,  taste,  and  elegance,  was  left  an  old 
battered  snuff-box,  not  worth  sixpence;  and  to 
another  young  lady,  whom  the  testator  says  he  in- 
tended to  have  enriched  with  a  handsome  legacy, 
he  leaves  the  gratifying  assurance  that  he  changed 
his  mind  on  finding  her  '  a  pert,  conceited  minx.' 
After  inveighing  against  bishops,  deans,  and 
chapters,  he  left  an  annuity  to  two  clergymen  who 
had  resigned  their  preferment  on  account  of  the 
Athanasian  doctrine.  He  directed  that  his  body 
should  not  be  insulted  with  any  funeral  ceremony, 
but  should  undergo  dissection.  After  which,  the 
'  remainder  of  my  carcase  '  (to  use  his  own  words) 
'  may  be  put  into  a  hole,  or  crammed  into  a  box 
with  holes,  and  thrown.iinto  the  Thames.'  In 
obedience  to  this  part  of  the  will,  Mr.  Forster, 
surgeon,  of  Union  Court,  Broad  Street,  dissected 
the  body,  -and  delivered  a  lecture  on  it  to  the 
medical  students,  in  the  theatre  of  Guy's  Hospital. 
The  bulk  of  the  doctor's  fortune,  amounting  to 
about  ;^i6,ooo,  was  left  to  his  only  daughter  for 
life,  and  after  her  demise,  by  a  complicated  entail, 
to  h.&T  female  descendants." 

As  a  physician.  Dr.  John  C.  Lettsom,  who  died 
in  18 1 5,  was  a  most  fortunate  man;  for  without 
any  high  reputation  for  professional  acquirements, 
and  with  the  exact  reverse  of  a  good  preliminary 
education,  he  made  a  larger  income  than  any  other 
physician  of  the  same  time.  Dr.  John  Fothergill 
never  made  more  than  ;;^S,ooo  in  one  year;  but 
Lettsom  earned  ;£'3,6oo  in  1783;  ;^3,9oo  in 
1784;  £AfiiS  in  1785;  and  £if,Soo  in  1786. 
After  that  period  his  practice  rapidly  increased, 
so  that  in  some  years  his  receipts  were  as  much  as 
;^i  2,000. 

That  singular  club,  the  Cauliflower,  chiefly  patro- 
nised by  booksellers  from  Paternoster  Row,  was 
held  at  the  "  Three  Jolly  Pigeons  "  in  Butcher  Hal) 


Newgate  Street.] 


MR.  BROWN   OF  THE  "CAULIFLOWER." 


435 


Lane,  now  King  Edward  Street.  "The  Three 
Pigeons,"  says  the  anonymous  author  of  Tavern 
Anecdotes  (1825),  "is  situated  in  Butcher  Hall 
Lane,  bounded  by  Christ  Church  and  Snow  Hill 
on  the  west,  St  Martin's-le-Grand  and  Chea.pside 
on  the  east,  by  Newgate  Street  and  Ivy  Lane 
(where  Dr.  Johnson's  club  was  held),  and  Pater- 
noster Row  on  the  south,  and  by  Little  Britain  on 
the  north.  Of  the  last-mentioned,  Washington 
Irving  has  given  an  admirable  picture  in  his '  Sketch 
Book ;'  but  as  he  has  not  given  a  portrait  of  the 
last  resident  bookseller  of  eminence  in  that  ancient 
mart  of  bibliopolists,  he  has  left  us  the  pleasing 
task  of  performing  an  humble  attempt  in  that  way ; 
but  even  we,  who  knew  the  character,  are  almost 
spared  the  trouble ;  for,  could  the  old  literary 
frequenters  of  Batson's  and  Will's  Coffee-houses 
again  appear  in  human  shapes,  with  their  large, 
wiry,  white,  curled  wigs,  coats  without  a  collar, 
raised  hair  buttons,  square  pendicular  cut  in  front, 
with  immense  long  hanging  sleeves,  covering  a 
delicate  hand,  further  graced  by  fine  ruffles;  a 
long  waistcoat,  with  angled-ofF  flaps,  descending  to 
the  centre  of  the  thigh ;  the  small-clothes  slashed 
in  front,  and  closed  with  three  small  buttons ;  with 
accurate  and  mathematically  cut,  square-toed,  short- 
quartered  shoes,  with  a  large  tongue,  to  prevent  a 
small-sized  square  silver  buckle  hurting  the  instep, 
or  soiling  the  fine  silken  hose,  they  would  present 
an  exact  and  faithful  portrait  of  the  late  Edward 
Ballard  standing  at  his  shop,  at  the  '  Globe,'  over 
against  the  pump,  in  Little  Britain.  He  was  the 
last  remaining  bookseller  of  that  school,  if  we  except 
the  late  James  Buckland,  at  the  sign  of  the  '  Buck,' 
in  Paternoster  Row,  with  one  or  two  others,  and 
put  one  in  mind  of  Alexander  Pope,  in  stature, 
size,  dress,  and  appearance.  The  writer  of  this 
article  recollects,  when  a  boy,  frequently  calling  at 
his  shop,  and  purchasing  various  books,  in  a  new 
and  unbound  state,  when  they  were  considered  to 
be  out  of  print,  and  some  of  them  really  scarce. 
This  arose  from  the  obscurity  of  the  once  celebrated 
Little  Britain,  and  the  great  age  of  its  last  resident 
bookseller,  who  to  the  last  retained  some  shares 
and  copyrights  (notwithstanding  he  and  his  brother 
had  sold  the  most  valuable  to  Lintot),  in  school  and 
religious  books ;  with  the  last  remains  of  a  stock, 
principally  guarded  and  watched  by  an  old  faithful 
female  servant" 

The  permanent  secretary  of  the  "  Free  and  Easy 
Counsellors  under  the  Cauliflower "  was  a  worthy 
old  fellow,  Mr.  Christopher  Brown,  an  assistant  of 
Mr.  Thomas  Longman,  in  Paternoster  Row,  who 
delighted  in  his  quiet  glass  of  Tabby's  punch,  a 
pipe,  and  a  song,  after  the  labours  of  the  day. 


This  faithful  old  clerk  had  refused  all  offers  of 
friends  to  set  him  up  in  independent  business. 
Before  the  purchase  of  Mr.  Evans's  business  the 
great  firm  of  Longman  was  conducted  by  merely 
two  principals  and  three  assistants. 

The  large  cauliflower  painted  on  the  ceiling  of 
the  club  was  intended  to  represent  the  cauliflower 
head  on  the  gallon  of  porter,  which  was  paid  for 
by  every  member  who  sat  under  it  at  his  initiation. 
The  president's  chair,  a  masterpiece  of  Chippen- 
dale's workmanship,  was  sold  in  1874  at  Christie  and 
Manson's.  The  height  is  five  feet  less  two  inches ; 
breadth  in  front,  from  twenty-five  to  twenty-seven 
inches.  An  exquisitely-carved  cauliflower  adorns 
the  chair,  extending  from  near  the  top  of  the  chair 
downwards  to  the  end  of  the  root  exactly  one  foot ; 
while  the  spread-out  leaves,  including  the  flower, 
extend  a  foot  across  ;  so  that  it  was  literally  true  of 
whoever  occupied  the  chair,  that  he  sat  "under  the 
cauliflower."  The  sides  and  arms  of  the  chair  are 
adorned  with  leaves,  and  both  legs  and  arms  are 
fluted,  the  whole  being  carved  out  of  solid  dark 
Spanish  mahogany.  A  footboard,  serving  the  pur- 
pose of  a  slightly-raised  platform  for  the  use  of  the 
speaker,  also  of  solid  mahogany,  is  attached  to  the 
chair  by  hinges. 

In  Bath  Street,  Newgate  Street,  one  of  the  first 
bagnios,  or  Turkish  bath,  was  opened  in  1679,  as 
Aubrey  carefully  records.  Strype  calls  it  "  a  neat- 
contrived  building,  after  the  Turkish  mode,  seated 
in  a  large  handsome  yard,  and  at  the  upper  end  of 
Pincock  Lane,  which  is  indifferent  well-built,  and 
inhabited.  This  bagnio  is  much  resorted  unto  for 
sweating,  being  found  very  good  for  aches,  &c.,  and 
approved  of  by  our  physicians."  A  writer  in  the 
Spectator,  No.  332,  mentions  the  bagnio  in  Newgate 
Street,  and  one  in  Chancery  Lane.  Hatton,  in 
1708,  describes  it  as  a  very  spacious  and  com- 
modious place  for  sweating,  hot  bathing,  and  cup- 
ping, and  with  a  temperature  of  eighteen  degrees 
of  heat  The  roof  was  of  a  cupola  shape,  and  the 
walls  set  with  Dutch  tiles.  The  charge  was  four 
shillings  a  person,  and  there  were  special  days  for 
ladies.  There  were  nine  servants  in  attendance; 
and  to  prove  the  healthiness  of  the  place,  Hatton 
mentions  that  one  servant  had  been  in  attendance 
for  twenty-eight  years,  four  days  a  week. 

Cock  Lane,  an  obscure  turning  between  Newgate 
Street  and  West  Smithfield,  was,  in  1762,  the  scene 
of  a  great  imposture.  The  ghost  supposed  to 
have  been  heard  rapping  there,  in  reply  to  ques- 
tions, singularly  resembled  the  familiar  spirits  of 
our  modern  mediums.  The  affair  commenced  in 
1762,  by  Parsons,  the  officiating  clerk  of  St. 
Sepulchre's,  observing,  at  early  prayer,  a  genteel 


436 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Ntwgate  gteef. 


couple  Standing  in  the  aisle,  and  ordering  them 
into  a  pew.  On  the  service  ending,  the  gentleman 
stopped  to  thank  Parsons,  and  to  ask  him  if  he 
knew  of  a  lodging  in  the  neighbourhood.  Parsons 
at  once  offered  rooms  in  his  own  house,  in  Cock 
Lane,  and  they  were  accepted.  The  gentleman 
23roved  to  be  a  widower  of  family  from  Norfolk, 
and  the  lady  the  sister  of  his  deceased  wife,  with 
whom  he  privately  lived,  unable,  from  the  severity 
of  the  cruel  old  canon  law,  to  marry  her,  as  they 
both  wished.  In  his  absence  in  the  country,  the 
lady,  who  went  by  the  name  of  Miss  Fanny,  had 
Parson's  daughter,  a  little  artful  girl  about  eleven 
years  of  age,  to  sleep  with  her.  In  tiie  night  the 
lady  and  the  child  were  disturbed  by  extraordinary 
noises,  which  were  at  first  attributed  to  a  neigh- 
bouring shoemaker.  Neighbours  were  called  in 
to  hear  the  sounds,  which  continued  till  the  gentle- 
man and  lady  removed  to  Clerkenwell,  where  the 
lady  soon  after  died  of  small-pox.  In  January  of 
the  next  year,  according  to  Parsons,  who,  from  a 
spirit  of  revenge  .against  his  late  lodger,  organised 
the  whole  fraud,  the  spiritualistic  knockings  and 
scratchings  re-conjmenced.  The  child,  from  under 
whose  bedstead  these  supposed  supernatural  sounds 
emanated,  pretended  to  have  fits,  and  Parsons  began 
to  interrogate  the  ghost,  and  was  answered  with 
affirmative  and  negative  knocks.  The  ghost,  under 
cross-examination,  declared  that  it  was  the  deceased 
lady  lodger,  who,  according  to  Parsons,  had  been 
poisoned  by  a  glass  of  piirl,  which  had  contained 
arsenic.  Thousands  of  persons,  of  all  ranks  and 
stations,  now  crowded  to  Cock  Lane,  to  hear  the 
ghost,  and  the  most  ludicrous  scenes  took  place 
with  these  poor  gulls. 

Even  Horace  Walpole  was  magnetically  drawn  to 
the  clerk's  house  in  Cock  Lane.  The  clever  fribble 
vreites  to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  January  29,  1762  :  "  I 
am  ashamed  to  tell  you  that  we  are  again  dipped 
into  an  egregious  scene  of  folly.  The  reigning 
fashion  is  a  ghost — a  ghost,  that  would  not  pass 
muster  in  the  paltriest  convent  in  the  Apennines. 
It  only  knocks  and  scratches ;  does  not  pretend  to 
appear  or  to  speak.  The  clergy  give  it  their  bene- 
diction; and  all  the  world,  whether  believers  or 
infidels,  go  to  hear  it.  I,  in  which  number  you 
may  guess,  go  to-morrow;  for  it  is  as  much  the 
mode  to  visit  the  ghost  as  the  Prince  of  Mecklen- 
burg, who  is  just  arrived.  I  have  not  seen  him  yet, 
though  I  have  left  my  name  for  him." 

Again  Walpole  writes : — "  I  went  to  hear  it,  for 
it  is  not  an  apparition,  but  an  audition.  We  set 
out  from  the  opera,  changed  our  clothes  at  North- 
umberland House,  the  Duke  of  York,  Lady  North- 
umberland, Lady  Mary  Coke,  Lord  Hertford,  and 


I,  all  in  one  hackney-coach,  and  drove  to  the  spot. 
It  rained  torrents ;  yet  the  lane  was  full  of  mob, 
and  the  house  so  full  we  could  not  get  in.  At  last 
they  discovered  it  was  the  Duke  of  York,  and  the 
company  squeezed  themselves  into  one  another's 
pockets  to  make  room  for  us.  The  house,  which 
is  borrowed,  and  to  which  the  ghost  has  adjourned, 
is  wretchedly  small  and  miserable.  When  we 
opened  the  chamber,  in  which  were  fifty  people, 
with  no  light,  but  one  tallow  candle  at  the  end,  we 
tumbled  over  the  bed  of  the  child  to  whom  the 
ghost  comes,  and  whom  they  are  murdering  by 
inches  in  such  insufferable  heat  and  stench.  At 
the  top  of  the  room  are  ropes  to  dry  clothes.  I 
asked  if  we  were  to  have  rope-dancing  between 
the  acts.  We  heard  nothing.  They  told  us  (as 
they  would  at  a  puppet-show)  that  it  would  not 
come  that  night  till  seven  in  the  morning,  that  is, 
when  there  are  only  'prentices  and  old  women.  We 
stayed,  however,  till  half  an  hour  after  one.  The 
Methodists  have  promised  them  contributions.  Pro- 
visions are  sent  in  like  forage,  and  all  the  taverns 
and  ale-houses  in  the  neighbourhood  make  fortunes." 
(Walpole  to  George  Montagu,  Feb.  2nd,  1762.) 

Of  the  descent  into  the  vaults  of  St.  John's, 
Clerkenwell,  to  hear  the  spirits  rap  on  her  coffin- 
lid,  Johnson,  who  was  present,  writes: — "About  ten 
at  night  the  gentlemen  met  in  the  chamber  in 
which  the  girl,  supposed  to  be  disturbed  by  a 
spirit,  had  with  proper  caution  been  put  to  bed  by 
several  ladies.  They  sat  rather  more  than  an  hour, 
and  hearing  nothing,  went  down-stairs,  where  they 
interrogated  the  father  of  the  girl,  who  denied  in 
the  strongest  terms  any  knowledge  or  belief  of 
fraud.  While  they  were  inquiring  and  deliberating, 
they  were  summoned  into  the  girl's  chamber  by 
some  ladies  who  were  near  her  bed,  and>who  had 
heard  knocks  and  scratches.  When  the  gentlemen 
entered,  the  girl  declared  that  she  felt  the  spirit 
like  a  mouse  upon  her  back,  when  the  spirit  was 
very  solemnly  required  to  manifest  its  existence 
by  appearance,  by  impression  on  the  hand  or  body 
of  any  present,  or  any  other  agency ;  but  no  evi- 
dence of  any  preternatural  power  was  exhibited. 
The  spirit  was  then  very  seriously  advertised  that 
the  person  to  whom  the  promise  was  made  of 
striking  the  coflnn  was  then  about  to  visit  the 
vault,  and  that  the  performance  of  the  promise 
was  then  claimed.  The  company  at  one  o'clock 
went  into  the  church,  and  the  gentleman  to 
whom  the  promise  waa  made,  went  with  another 
into  the  vault.  The  spirit  was  solemnly  required 
to  perform  its  promise,  but  nothing  more  than 
silence  ensued.  The  person  supposed  to  be 
accused  by  the  spirit  then  went  down  with  several 


Newgate  Strest.] 


THE  COCK  LANE  GHOST. 


437 


others,  but  no  effect  was  perceived.  Upon  their 
return,  they  examined  the  girl,  but  could  draw  no 
confession  from  her.  Between  two  and  three  she 
desired  and  was  permitted  to  go  home  with  her 
father.  It  is  therefore  the  opinion  of  the  whole 
assembly,  that  the  child  has  some  art  of  making  or 
counterfeiting  a  particular  noise,  and  that  there  is 
no  agency  of  any  higher  cause." 

In  the  following  account  of  a  Cock  Lane  stance, 
a  pamphleteer  of  the  time  says  : — 

"  To  have  a  proper  idea  of  this  scene,  as  it  is 
now  carried  on,  the  reader  is  to  conceive  a  very 
small  room,  with  a  bed  in  the  middle ;  the  girl  at 
the  usual  hour  of  going  to  bed,  is  undressed,  and 
put  in  with  proper  solemnity.  The  spectators  are 
next  introduced,  who  sit  looking  at  each  other,  sup- 
pressing laughter,  and  wait  in  silent  expectation  for 
the  opening  of  the  scene.  As  the  ghost  is  a  good 
deal  offended  at  incredulity,  the  persons  present 
are  to  conceal  theirs,  if  they  have  any,  as  by  this 
concealment  they  can  only  hope  to  gratify  their 
curiosity;  for,  if  they  show,  either  before  or  when 
the  knocking  is  begun,  a  too  prying,  inquisitive,  or 
ludicrous  turn  of  thinking,  the  ghost  continues 
usually  silent,  or,  to  use  the  expression  of  the 
house,  'Miss  Fanny  is  angry.'  The  spectators, 
therefore,  have  nothing  for  it  but  to  sit  quiet  and 
credulous,  otherwise  they  must  hear  no  ghost, 
which  is  no  small  disappointment  to  persons  who 
have  come  for  no  other  purpose. 

"The  girl,  who  knows,  by  some  secret,  when 
the  ghost- is  to  appear,  sometimes  apprizes  the 
assistants  of  its  intended  visitation.  It  first  begins 
to  scratch,  and  then  to  answer  questions,  giving 
two  knocks  for  a  negative,  but  one  for  an  affirma- 
tive. By  this  means  it  tells  whether  a  watch,  when 
held  up,  be  white,  blue,  yellow,  or  black;  how 
many  clergymen  are  in  the  room,  though  in  this 
sometimes  mistaken.  It  evidently  distinguishes 
white  men  from  negroes,  -with  similar  other  marks 
of  sagacity.  However,  it  is  sometimes  mistaken  in 
questions  of  a  private  nature,  when  it  deigns  to 
answer  them.    For  instance,  the  ghost  was  ignorant 

where  she  had  dined  upon  Mr.  K 's  marriage ; 

how  many  of  her  relations  were  at  church  upon  the 
same  occasion;  but,  particularly,  she  called  her 
father  John,  instead  of  Thomas — a  mistake,  indeed, 
a  little  extraordinary  in  a  ghost.  But  perhaps  she 
was  mlling  to  verify  the  old  proverb,  that  '  It  is  a 
wise  child  that  knows  its  own  father.'  However, 
though  sometimes  right,  and  sometimes  wrong,  she 
pretty  invariably  persists  in  one  story,  namely,  that 
she  was  poisoned,  in  a  cup  of  purl,  by  red  arsenic, 

a  poison  unheard  of  before,  by  Mr.   K ,  in  her 

last  illness,  and  that  she  heartily  wishes  him  hanged. 


"  It  is  no  easy  matter  to  remark  upon  an  evidence 
of  this  nature ;  but  it  may  not  be  unnecessary  to 
observe,  that  the  ghost,  though  fond  of  company, 
is  particularly  modest  upon  these  occasions,  an 
enemy  to  the  light  of  a  candle,  and  always  most 
silent  before  those  from  whose  rank  and  under- 
standing she  could  most  reasonably  expect  redress. 
***** 

"This  knocking  and  scratching  was  generally 

heard  in  a  little  room  in  which  Mr.  P 's  two 

children  lay,  the  eldest  of  which  was  a  girl  about 
twelve  or  thirteen  years  old.  The  purport  of  this 
knocking  v;as  not  thoroughly  conceived  till  the 
ejdest  child  pretended  to  see  the  actual  ghost  of 
the  deceased  lady  mentioned  above.  When  she 
had  seen  the  ghost,  a  weak,  ignorant  publican 
also,  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood,  asserted  that 

he  had  seen   it  too,  and  Mr.  P himself  (the 

gentleman   whom  Mr.  K had  disobliged  by 

suing  for  money)  also  saw  the  ghost  about  the 
same  time.  The  girl  saw  it  without  hands,  in 
a  shroud;  the  other  two  saw  it  with  hands,  all 
luminous  and  shining.  There  was  one  unlucky  cir- 
cumstance, however,  in  the  apparition.  Though  it 
appeared  to  three  several  persons,  and  could  knock, 
scratch,  and  flutter,  yet  its  coming  would  have 
been  to  no  manner  of  purpose  had  it  not  been 
kindly  assisted  by  the  persons  thus  haunted.  It 
was  impossible  for  a  ghost  that  could  not  speak  to 
make  any  discovery ;  the  people,  therefore,  to 
whom  it  appeared,  kindly  undertook  to  make  the 
discovery  themselves,  and  the  ghost,  by  knocking, 
gave  its  assent  to  their  method  of  wording  the 
accusation." 

The  girl  was  at  last,  we  are  glad  to  say,  detected. 
When  the  child  was  bound  hand  and  foot  in  a 
hammock,  the  ghost,  it  was  found,  was  always 
silent.  One  morning,  when  the  child  had  been 
threatened  with  Newgate  if  she  did  not  arouse  the 
ghost,  she  was  found  to  have  concealed  a  small 
board  under  her  stays,  on  which  she  produced  the 
supernatural  sounds.    The  bubble  then  burst. 

The  gentleman  accused,  remarks  Mr.  Pinks, 
"  thought  proper  to  vindicate  his  character  in  a 
legal  way.  On  the  loth  of  July  the  father  and 
mother  of  the  child,  one  Mary  Frazer,  who  acted 
as  interpreter  of  the  noises,  a  clergyman,  and  a 
tradesman,  were  tried  at  Guildhall,  before  Lord 
Mansfield,  by  a  special  jury,  and  convicted  of  con- 
spiracy. Sentence  was  deferred  for  several  months, 
in  order  to  give  the  offenders  an  opportunity  of 
making  Mr. some  compensation  in  the  mean- 
time. Accordingly,  the  clergyman  and  tradesman 
gave  him  several  hundred  pounds,  and  were  there- 
upon dismissed  with  a  reprimand.     Parsons  was 


438 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Newgale  Street 


sentenced  to  be  placed  three  times  in  the  pillory, 
at  the  end  of  Cock  Lane,  and  then  to  be  im- 
prisoned for  two  years  in  the  King's  Bench  gaol. 
Strange  to  relate,  the  rabble,  who  usually  assembled 
in  large  numbers  to  witness  and  to  assist  in  carry- 
ing out  the  former  part  of  such  a  sentence,  were 


"  While  drawing  the  crypt  of  St.  John's,  Clerken- 
well,"  says  Mr.  J.  W.  Archer,  "  in  a  narrow  cloister 
on  the  north  side,  there  being  at  that  time  coffins, 
fragments  of  shrouds,  and  human  remains  lying 
about  in  disorder,  the  sexton's  boy  pointed  to  one 
of  the  coffins,  and  said  that  it  was  'Scratching 


THE    "ghost's"   house   IN   COCK   LANE. 


in  this  case  moved  with  compassion  for  the  victim 
of  the  strong  arm  of  the  law,  and  refrained  from 
offering  him,  while  thus  exposed,  any  insult,  either 
by  word  or  deed,  and  a  public  subscription  was 
afterwards  raised  for  his  benefit.  Mrs.  Parsons  was 
sentenced  to  be  imprisoned  for  one  year,  and  Mary 
Frazer  for  six  months,  with  hard  labour.  Miss 
Parsons,  the  agent  of  the  mysterious  noise,  and 
who  doubtless  acted  under  her  father's  instructions, 
was  twice  married,  and  died  in  1806." 


Fanny.'  This  reminding  me  of  the  Cock  Lane 
Ghost,  I  removed  the  lid  of  the  coffin,  which  was 
loose,  and  saw  the  body  of  a  woman,  which  had 
become  adipocere.  The  face  was  perfect,  hand- 
some, oval,  with  an  aquiline  nose.  Will  not  arsenic 
produce  adipocere?  She  is  said  to  have  been 
poisoned,  although  the  charge  is  understood  to 
have  been  disproved.  I  inquired  of  one  of  the 
churchwardens  of  the  time,  Mr.  Bird,  who  said  the 
coffin  had  always  been  understood  to  contain  the 


Newgate  Street.] 


DR.  JOHNSON'S  CLUB. 


439 


body  of  the  woman  whose  spirit  was  said  to  have 
haunted  the  house  in  Cock  Lane." 

At  the  "  King's  Head,"  in  Ivy  Lane,  Dr.  Johnson 
established  one  of  his  earliest  clubs  for  literary  dis- 
cussion. The  chief  members  were  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Salter,  father  of  the  Master  of  the  Charterhouse; 
Mr.  (afterwards  Dr.)  John  Hawkesworth;  Mj. 
Ryland,  a  merchant,  a  relation  of  Johnson's ;  Mr. 
John  Payne,  then  a  bookseller,  afterwards  chief 
accountant  of  the  Bankj    Mr.  Samuel  Dyer,  a 


when  the  stalls  and  sheds  were  removed  from 
Butcher  Hall  Lane  and  the  localities  round  the 
church  of  St.  Nicholas  Shambles. 

Warwick  Lane,  Stow  says,  derived  its  name  from 
an  ancient  house  there,  built  by  the  Earls  of  War- 
wick. This  messuage  in  Eldeuese  Lane  (the  old 
name)  is  on  record  in  the  28th  year  of  Henry  VI. 
as  occupied  by  Cicille,  Duchess  of  Warwick.  In 
the  36th  year  of  Henry  VI.,  when  the  greater 
estates    of   the    realm   were    called    to   London, 


THE  Saracen's  head,  snow  hill.     {_From  a  Sketch  taken  during  its  Demolition.') 


learned  young  man,  intended  for  the  dissenting 
ministry ;  Dr.  William  M'Ghie,  a  Scots  physician ; 
Dr. Edmund  Barker,  a  young  physician;  Dr.  Richard 
Bathurst,  arid  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir  John)  Hawkins. 

Newgate  Market,  now  removed  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Charterhouse,  was  originally  a  meal- 
market.  "  R.  B.,"  in  Strype,  says  that  before  the 
Great  Fire  there  was  a  market-house  here  for  meal, 
and  a  middle  row  of  sheds,  which  had  gradually  been 
converted  into  houses  for  butchers,  tripe-sellers, 
and  the  like.  The  country -people  who  brought 
provisions  were  forced  to  stand  with  their  stalls  in 
the  open  street,  exposed  to  all  the  coaches,  carts, 
horses,  and  cattle.  The  meat-market,  says  Peter 
Cunningham,  had  first  become  a  centre  of  trade 


Richard  Nevill,  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  justly  named 
the  "  king-maker,"  came  there,  backed  by  six  hun- 
dred sturdy  vassals,  all  in  red  jackets  embroidered 
•with  ragged  staves  before  and  behind.  "  At  whose 
house,"  says  Stow,  "  there  were  oftentimes  six  oxen 
eaten  at  a  breakfast;  and  every  tavern  was  full 
of  his  meat,  for  he  that  had  any  acquaintance  at 
that  house  might  have  there  so  much  of  sodden 
and  roast  meat  as  he  could  prick  and  carry  upon  a 
long  dagger."  A  little  bas-relief  of  the  famous 
Guy,  Earl  of  Warwick,  with  the  date  1668,  is  in- 
serted in  the  wall  of  Newgate  Street  end  of  War- 
wick Lane. 

The  "  Old  Bell"  Inn,   on  the  east  side  of  the 
lane,  is  the  house   where    Archbishop  Leighton 


440 


OLD   AND  NEW  LONDON, 


[Newgate  Street. 


died.  According  to  Burnet,  in  his  "  History  of 
His  Own  Times,"  "he  (Archbishop  Leighton) 
used  often  to  say  that  if  he  were  to  clioose  a  place 
to  die  in,  it  should  be  an  innj  it  looking  like  a 
pilgrim's  going  home,  to  whom  this  world  was  all 
as  an  inn,  and  who  was  weary  of  the  noise  and 
confusion  in  it.  He  added  that  the  officious  ten- 
derness and  care  of  friends  was  an  entanglement  to 
a  dying  man ;  and  that  the  unconcerned  attend- 
ance of  those  that  could  be  procured  in  such  a 
place  would  give  less  disturbance.  And  he  ob- 
tained what  he  desired;  for  he  died  (1684)  at  the 
'Beir  Inn,  in  Warwick  Lane." 

The  "Oxford  Arms"  Inn,  formerly  on  the  west 
side  of  the  street,  is  mentioned  in  a  carrier's  adver- 
tisement in  the  London  Gazette,  1672-73.  Edward 
Bartlet,  an  Oxford  carrier,  who  had  removed  from 
the  "Swan"  at  Holborn  Bridge,  started  his  coaches 
and  wagons  from  thence  three  times  a  week.  He 
also  announced  that  he  kept  a  hearse,  to  convey 
"  a  corps"  to  any  part  of  England. 

Snow  Hill  is  called  Snore  Hill  by  Stow,  and  Sore 
Hill  by  Howell.  At  the  time  of  the  Great  Fire  it 
seems  to  have  been  known  as  Snore  Hill  and  Snow 
Hill  indifferently.  By  the  time  Gay  wrote  his  anti- 
thetical line — 

"When  from  Snow  Hill  black  steepy  torrents  run," 

Iiowever,  the  latter  name  seems  to  have  become 
fixed.  It  was  always  an  awkward,  roundabout 
road;  and  in  1802,  when  Skinner  Street  was  built, 
it  was  superseded  as  the  highway  between  Newgate 
Street  and  Holborn. 

There  is  one  event  in  its  history,  brief  as  it  is, 
that  deserves  special  remembrance.  At  the  house 
of  his  friend,  Mr.  Strudwick,  a  grocer,  at  the  sign 
of  the  "  Star,"  Snow  Hill,  that  brave  old  Christian, 
John  Bunyan,  died,  in  1688.  This  extraordinary 
genius  was  the  son  of  a  tinker,  at  Elstow,  near 
Bedford,  and  grew  up  a  wild,  dissolute  youth,  but 
seems  to  have  received  early  strong  religious  im- 
pressions. He  served  in  the  Parliamentary  army  at 
the  siege  of  Leicester,  and  the  death  of  a  comrade 
who  took  his  post  as  a  sentry  produced  a  deep 
effect  on  his  thoughtful  mind.  On  returning  to 
Elstow,  Bunyan  married  a  pious  young  woman, 
who  seems  to  have  led  him  to  read  and  study 
religious  books.  At  the  age  of  twenty-five,  after 
great  spiritual  struggles,  Bunyan  was  admitted  into 
church-fellowship  with  the  Baptists,  and  baptised, 
probably  near  midnight,  in  a  small  stream  near 
Bedford  Bridge.  His  spiritual  struggles  still  con- 
tinued, he  believed  himself  rejected,  and  the  day 
of  grace  past ;  then  came  even  doubts  of  the  being 
of  a  God,  and  of  the  authority  of  tlie  Scriptures. 
A  terrible  illness,   threatening    consumption,    fol- 


lowed this  mental  struggle,  but  with  health  cami 
the  calm  of  a  serene  faith,  and  he  entered  th( 
ministry.  A  great  trouble  followed,  to  further  purif) 
this  great  soul.  He  lost  his  first  wife;  but  a 
second  wife  proved  equally  good  and  faithful.  I( 
being  a  time  of  persecution,  Bunyan  was  soon 
thrown  into  Bedford  gaol,  where  he  pined  for 
twelve  long  years.  There,  with  some  sixty  other 
innocent  people,  Bunyan  preached  and  prayed 
incessantly,  and  wrote  the  first  part  of  his  immortal 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

Parting  with  his  wife  and  children  Bunyan  him- 
self describes  as  "pulling  the  flesh  from  his  bones," 
and  his  heart  was  especially  wrung  by  the  possible 
hardships  of  his  poor  blind  daughter,  Mary.  "  Oh, 
the  thought  of  the  hardships  my  poor  blind  one 
might  be  under,"  he  says,  "would  break  my  heart 
to  pieces.''  Bunyan  maintained  himself  in  prison 
by  making  tagged  laces,  and  the  only  books  he  had 
were  the  Bible  and  Foxe's  "Book  of  Martyrs." 
"  When  God  makes  the  bed,"  he  says,  in  one  of 
his  works,  "he  must  needs  be  easy  that  is  cast 
thereon.  A  blessed  pillow  hath  that  man  for  his 
head,  though  to  all  beholders  it  is  hard  as  a  stone." 
The  jug  in  which  his  broth  was  daily  taken  to  the 
prison  is  still  preserved  as  a  rehc,  and  his  gold  ring 
was  discovered  under  the  floor  when  the  prison 
was  demohshed. 

Bunyan  was  released  in  1672,  when  471  Quakers 
and  twenty  Baptists  were  also  set  free.  He  then 
obtained  a  licence  to  preach  at  a  chapel  in  Bedford, 
and  he  also  continued  his  trade  as  a  brazier.  In 
1 68 2  this  good  man  published  his  second  allegory, 
"  The  Holy  War,''  and  completed  the  last  part  of 
"The  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

In  spite  of  his  consistent  zeal,  Bunyan  was  de- 
nounced by  his  enemies  as  a  wizard,  a  Jesuit,  and 
a  highwayman.  His  popularity  among  his  own 
people  was,  however,  very  great.  When  he 
preached  in*  London  some  3,000  people  used  to 
collect,  so  that  he  had  almost  to  be  pulled  over 
their  heads  into  the  pulpit.  His  end  was  charac- 
teristic. He  was  returning  home  from  a  visit  to 
Reading,  where  he-  had  gone  to  reconcile  an 
offended  father  to  a  prodigal  son,  when  he  was 
seized,  at  the  house  in  Snow  Hill,  with  a  fatal 
fever.  His  departure  must  have  been  like  that  of 
the  pilgrims  he  himself  describes  : — "  Now  I  saw  in 
my  dream  that  by  this  time  the  pilgrims  were  got 
over  the  Enchanted  Ground,  and  entering  into  the 
country  of  Beulah  (Isa.lxii.4 — 12  ;  Cant,  ii.io— 12), 
whose  air  was  very  sweet  and  pleasant;  the  way 
lying  directly  through  it,  they  solaced  themselves 
there  for  a  season.  Yea,  here  they  heard  con- 
tinually the  singing  of  birds,  and  saw  every  dav 


Se^lgaHc] 


DOBSON ,  AND  VANDYJSIE. 


■441 


the  flowers  appear  in  the  earth,  and  heard  the  voice 
of  the  turtle  in  the  land.  In  this  country  the  sun 
shineth  night  and  day ;  wherefore  this  was  beyond 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  also  out 
of  the  reach  of  Giant  Despair,  neither  could  they 
from  this  place  so  much  as  see  Doubting  Castle, 
Here  they  were  within  sight  of  the  city  they  were 
going  to;  also  here  met  them  some  of  the  inha- 
bitants thereof;  for  in  this  land  the  shining  ones 
commonly  walked,  because  it  was  upon  the  borders 
of  Heaven." 

To  Snow  Hill  also  belongs  an  anecdote  of  Dob- 
son,  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  our  early  painters. 
Dobson,  son  of  the  master  in  the  Alienation 
Office,  was  compelled  by  his  father's  extravagance 
to  become  an  apprentice  to  a  stationer  and  picture- 
dealer.  He  soon  began  to  excel  in  copying  Titian 
and  Vandyke,  and  exhibited  his  copies  in  a  window 


in  Snow  Hill.  Vandyke  himself  who,  lived  in 
Blackfriars,  not  far  off,  passing  one  day,  was  so 
struck  with  Dobson's  work,  that  he  went  in  and  ^ 
inquired  for  the  author.  He  found  him  at  work  in 
a  poor  garret,  from  which  he  soon  rescued  him. 
He  shortly  afterwards  recommended  him  to  King 
Charles,  who  took  him  into  his  service,  and  sat  to 
him  often  for  his  portrait,  and  gave  him  the  name 
of  the  English  Tintoret.  Dobson's  style  is  dignified 
and  thoughtful,  and  his  colour  delightful  in  tone. 
One  of  his  finest  portrait  groups  is  at  Northumber- 
land House,  and  in  the  "Decollation  of  St.  John,"  in 
the  fine  collection  at  Wilton  House,  he  is  said  to 
have  introduced  a  portrait  of  Prince  Rupert.  The 
Civil  Wars,  and  the  indifference  which  the  Puritans 
manifested  to  art,  no  doubt  reduced  Dobson  to 
poverty,  and  he  died  poor  and  neglected,  in  St. 
Martin's  Lane,  in  1646. 


CHAPTER      LI  I. 
NEWGATE. 

The  Fifth  City  Gate— Howard's  Description  of  Newgate— The  Gordon  Riots— The  Attack  on  Newgate— The  Mad  Qualcer— Crabbe,  the  Poet^ 
His  Account  of  the  Burning  of  Newgate — Dr.  Johnson's  Visit  to  the  Ruins. 


Newgate,  which  Stow  classifies  as  the  fifth  prin- 
cipal gate  in  the  City  wall,  was  first  built  about  the 
reign  of  Henry  I.  or  Stephen,  and  was  a  prison  for 
felons  and  trespassers  at  least  as  early  as  the  reign 
of  King  John.  It  was  erected  when,  St.  Paul's 
being  rebuilt,  the  old  wards,  from  Aldgate  to 
Ludgate,  were  stopped  up  by  enclosures  and  build- 
ing materials,  and  people  had  to  work  round  de- 
viously by  Paternoster  Row  and  the  old  Exchange 
to  get  to  Ludgate. 

In  the  year  1218  the  king  wrote  to  the  Sheriffs 
of  London,  "  commanding  them  to  repair  the  ~ 
gaol  at  Newgate,  for  the  safe  keeping  of  his 
prisoners,  promising  that  the  charges  laid  out  should 
be  allowed  them  upon  their  accompt  in  the  Ex- 
chequer" (Stow).  In  1 241  some  rich  Jews  (accused 
of  imaginary  crimes)  were  ordered  to  pay  20,000 
marks,  or  be  kept  perpetual  prisoners  at  Newgate 
and  other  prisons.  In  this  same  reign  Henry  sent 
the  sheriffs  to  tlie  Tower,  and  fined  the  City  3,000 
marks,  for  allowing  a  convicted  priest,  who  had 
killed  a  prior,  a  cousin  of  the  queen,  to  escape  from 
Newgate.  Sir  William  Walworth  in  1385  left  money 
to  relieve  the  prisoners  in  Newgate,  and  Whittington 
left  money  to  rebuild  the  prison.  In  1457  there 
was  again  a  break-out  from  Newgate  prison.    Lord 


Egremond,  Sir  Thomas  and  Sir  Richard  Percy,  com- 
mitted to  Newgate  for  a  fray  in  the  north  country 
with  the  Earl  of  Sahsbury's  sons,  in  which  fray 
many  were  maimed  or  slain,  broke  out  of  prison 
by  night,  and  went  to  petition  the  king,  the  other 
prisoners,  in  the  meantime,  garrisoning  the  leads  of 
Newgate,  and  defending  it  against  all  the  sheriffs ; 
till  at  last  the  citizens  were  called  up  to  subdue  and 
lay  in  irens  the  reckless  rebels. 

The  gate  was  repaired  in  1630-3,  destroyed  in 
the  Great  Fire,  and  rebuilt  in  a  stronger  and  more 
convenient  way,  with  a  postern  for  foot  passengers. 
On  the  east  or  City  side  of  the  old  prison  were 
three  stone  statues — Justice,  Mercy,  and  Truth; 
and  four  on  the  west,  or  Holborn  side— Liberty 
(with  Whittington's  cat  at  her  feet),  Peace,  Plenty, 
and  Concord.  Four  of  these  figures,  which  sur- 
vived the  Gordon  riots,  ornament  part  of  the  front 
of  the  present  prison. 

Howard,  the  philanthropist,  writing  in  1784,  gives 
a  favourable  account  of  the  Newgate  of  1779. 

"  The  cells,"  says  Howard,  "  built  in  old  New- 
gate, a  few  years  since,  for  condemned  malefactors, 
are  still  used  for  the  same  purpose.  There  are 
upon  each  of  the  three  floors  five,  all  vaulted,  near 
9  feet  high  to  the  crown.     Those  on  the  ground- 


442 


OLD  AND   NEW  I.ONDON. 


[Newgate. 


floor  measure  full  9  feet  by  near  6  feet ;  the  five  on 
the  first  storey  are  a  little  larger  (9I  feet  by  6  feet), 
on  account  of  the  set-off  in  the  wall ;  and  the  five 
uppermost  still  a  little  larger,  for  the  same  reason. 
In  the  upper  part  of  each  cell  is  a  window,  double 
grated,  near  3  feet  by  r  |.  The  doors  are  4  inches 
thick.  The  strong  stone  wall  is  lined  all  round 
each  cell  with  planks,  studded  with  broad-headed 
nails.  In  each  cell  is  a  barrack  bedstead.  I 
was  told  by  those  who  attended  them  that  crimi- 
nals who  had  affected  an  air  of  boldness  during 
their  trial,  and  appeared  quite  unconcerned  at  the 
pronouncing  sentence  upon  them,  were  struck  with 
horror,  and  shed  tears,  when  brought  to  these  dark- 
some, solitary  abodes. 

"  The  chapel  is  plain  and  neat.  Below  is  the 
chaplain's  seat,  and  three  or  four  pews  for  the 
felons;  that  in  the  centre  is  for  the  condemned.' 
On  each  side  is  a  gallery :  that  for  the  women  is 
towards  their  ward ;  in  it  is  a  pew  for  the  keeper, 
whose  presence  may  set  a  good  example,  and  be 
otherwise  useful.  The  other  gallery,  towards  the 
debtors'  ward,  is  for  them.  The  stairs  to  each 
gallery  are  on  the  outside  of  the  chapel.  I  at- 
tended there  several  times,  and  Mr.  Villette  read 
the  prayers  distinctly,  and  with  propriety.  The 
prisoners  who  were  ^  present  seemed  attentive ;  but 
we  were  disturbed  by  the  noise  in  the  court.  Surely 
they  who  will  not  go  to  chapel,  who  are  by  far  the 
greater  number,  should  be  locked  up  in  their  rooms 
during  the  time  of  divine  service,  and  not  suffered 
to  hinder  the  edification  of  such  as  are  better  dis- 
posed. 

"The  chaplain,  or  ordinary,  besides  his  salary, 
has  a  house  in  Newgate  Street,  clear  of  land-tax ; 
Lady  Barnadiston's  legacy,  j£6  a  year;  an  old 
legacy  paid  by  the  Governors  of  St.  Bartholomew's 
Hospital,  ;^io  a  year;  and  lately  had  two  free- 
doms yearly,  which  commonly  sold  for  ;^25  each ; 
and  the  City  generally  presented  him,  once  in  six 
months,  with  another  freedom.  Now  he  has  not 
the  freedoms,  but  his  salary  is  augmented  to  ;^i8o, 
and  the  sheriffs  pay  him  ^^3  12  s.  He  engages, 
when  chosen,  to  hold  no  other  living. 

"Debtors have,  every  Saturday,  from  the  Chamber 
of  London,  eight  stone  of  beef;  fines,  four  stone; 
and,  some  years,  felons,  eight  stone.  Debtors  have 
several  legacies.  I  inquired  for  a  list  of  them, 
and  Mr.  Akerman  told  me  the  table  in  Maitland's 
'Survey'  was  authentic.  The  amount  of  it  is 
;^52  5s.  8d.  a  year.  There  are  other  donations 
mentioned  by  Maidand,  amounting  to  sixty-four 
stone  of  beef,  and  five  dozen  of  bread 

"  Here  I  cannot  forbear  mentioning  a  practice, 
which  probably  had  its  origin  from  the  ancient 


mode  of  torture,  though  now  it  seems  only  a  matte 
of  form.  When  prisoners  capitally  convicted  a 
the  Old  Bailey  are  brought  up  to  receive  sentenc« 
and  the  judge  asks,  '  What  have  you  to  say  wh 
judgment  of  death  and  execution  should  not  b 
awarded  against  you?'  the  executioner  slips  ; 
whipcord  noose  about  their  thumbs.  This  custoE 
ought  to  be  abolished. 

"At  my  visit,  in  1779,  the  gaol  was  clean,  an( 
free  from  offensive  scents.  On  the  felons'  side  then 
were  only  three  sick,  in  one  of  the  upper  wards.  Ai 
infirmary  was  building,  near  the  condemned  cells 
Of  the  141  felons,  &c.,  there  were  ninety-one  con 
victs  and  fines  who  had  only  the  prison  allowanci 
of  a  penny  loaf  a  day.  Mr.  Akerman  generousl; 
contributed  towards  their  rehef  In  the  felons'  cour 
the  table  of  fees,  painted  on  a  board,  was  hung  up. 

"The  gaol  was  burnt  by  the  rioters  in  1780 
but  is  rebuilt  on  the  same  plan.  The  men'i 
quadrangle  is  now  divided  into  three  courts.  Ii 
the  first  court  are  those  who  pay  3s.  6d.  a  week  foi 
a  bed ;  in  the  next,  the  poorer  felons ;  and  in  tht 
other,  now,  the  women.  Under  the  chapel  art 
cells  for  the  refractory.  Two  rooms,  adjoining  tc 
the  condemned  cells,  are  built  for  an  infirmary,  ir 
one  of  which,  at  my  last  visit,  there  were  sixteer 
sick.  Of  the  291  prisoners  in  1782,  225  were  mer 
and  66  women.  Upwards  of  100  of  them  were 
transports,  89  fines,  21  under  sentence  of  death, 
and  the  remainder  lay  for  trial.  Some  of  the  con 
demned  had  been  long  sick  and  languishing  ir 
theii"  cells." 

From  the  Old  Bailey  Session  Papers  for  June, 
1780,  we  gather  a  very  vivid  and  picturesque  notioii 
of  the  destruction  of  Newgate  during  the  Gordor 
riots.  The  mob  came  pouring  down  Holbom, 
between  six  and  seven  o'clock,  on  the  evening  01 
the  6th  of  June.  There  were  three  flags  carried 
by  the  ringleaders — the  first  of  green  silk,  with  a 
Protestant  motto  ;  the  second,  dirty  blue,  with  a 
red  cross ;  the  third,  a  flag  of  the  Protestant  Union, 
A  sailor  named  Jackson  had  hoisted  the  second 
flag  in  Palace  Yard,  when  Justice  Hyde  had 
launched  a  party  of  horse  upon  the  people ;  and 
when  the  rabble  had  sacked  the  justice's  house  m 
St.  Martin's  Street,  Jackson  shouted,  "Newgate, 
a-hoy  !"  and  kd  the  people  on  to  the  Old  Bailey 
Mr.  Akerman,  a  friend  of  Boswell,  and  one  of  the 
keepers  of  Newgate,  had  had  intimation  of  the 
danger  two  hours  before,  when  a  friend  of  one  ol 
the  prisoners  called  upon  him  just  as  he  was  pack- 
ing up  his  plate  for  removal,  told  him  "  he  should 
be  the  one  hung  presently,"  and  cursed  him, 
Exactly  at  seven,  one  of  the  rioters  knocked  at  Mr, 
Akerman's  door,  which  had  been  already  barred. 


Newgate.] 


THE  GORDON  RIOTS. 


443 


bolted,  and  chained.     A  maid-servant  had  just  put 
up  the  shutters,  when  the  glass  over  the  hall-door 
was  dashed  into  her  face.      The  ringleader  who 
knocked  was  better  dressed   than    the  rest,    and 
wore  a  dark  brown  coat  and  round  hat.      The  man 
knocked  three  times,  and  rang  three  times  ;   then, 
finding  no  one  came,  ran  down  the  steps,   "  made 
his  obeisance  to  the  mob,"  pointed  to  the  door, 
then  retired.      The  mob  was  perfectly  organised, 
and  led  by  about  thirty  men  walking  three  abreast. 
Thirty  men  carried  iron  crowbars,  mattocks,  and 
chisels,  and  after  them  followed  "  an  innumerable 
company,"  armed  with  bludgeons  and  the  spokes 
of  cart-wheels.       The  band  instantly  divided  into 
three  parts — one  set  went  to  work  at  Mr.  Aker- 
man's  door  with  the  mattocks,  a  second  went  to 
the  debtors'  door,  and  a  third  to  the  felons'.     A 
shower  of  bludgeons    instantly    demolished    the 
windows  of  the  keeper's  house ;   and  while  these 
sticks  were  still  falling  in  showers,  two  men,  one  of 
them  a  mad  Quaker,  the  son  of  a  rich  corn-factor, 
who  wore  a  mariner's  jacket,  came  forward  with 
a  scaffold-pole,   and  drove  it  like  a  battering-ram 
against  the  parlour  shutters.     A  lad   in  a  sailor's 
jacket  then  got  on  a  man's  shoulders,  and  rammed 
in  the  half-broken  shutters  with  furious  blows  of 
his  bullet-head.      A  chimney-sweeper's  boy  then 
scrambled  in,    cheered   by  the   mob,    and   after 
him  the  mad  Quaker.     A  moment  more,  and  the 
Quaker  appeared  at  the  first-floor  window,  flinging 
out  pictures  into  the  street.     Presently,  the  second 
pariour  window  gave  way,  the  house-door  was  forced, 
and  the  furniture  and  broken  chattels  in  the  street 
were  set  in  a  blaze.     All  this  time  a  circle  of  men, 
better  dressed  than   the  rest,    stood  in  the  Old 
Bailey,  exciting  and  encouraging  the  rioters.     The 
leader  of  these  sympathisers  was  a  negro  servant, 
named  Benjamin  Bowsey,  afterwards  hung  for  his 
share  in  the  riot.     One  of  the  leaders  in  this  attack 
was  a  mad  waiter  from  the  St.  Alban's  Tavern,  named 
Thomas  Haycock.    He  was  very  prominent,  and  he 
swore  that  there  should  not  be  a  prison  standing  in 
London  on  the  morrow,  and  that  the  Bishop  of 
London's  house  and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  should 
come  down  that  night.    "They  were  well  supported, 
he  shouted  to  the    mob,"  for  there  were   six  or 
seven  noblemen  and  members  of  Parliament  on 
their  side.    This  man  helped  to  break  up  a  bureau, 
and  collected  sticks  to  burn  down  the  doors  of 
Akerman's  house.    While  Akerraan's  house  was  still 
burning,  the  servants  escaping  over  the  roofs,  and 
Akerman's  neighbours  were  down  among  the  mob, 
entreating  them  to  spare  the  houses  of  innocent 
persons,  a  waiter,  named  Francis  Mockford,  who 
wore  a  hat  with  a  blue  cockade  in  it,  went  up  to  the 


prison-gate  and  held  up  the  main  key,  and  shouted 

to  the  turnkeys,  "  D you,  here  is  the  key  of 

Newgate  J  open  the  door!"  Mockford,  who  was 
eventually  sentenced  to  death  for  this  riot,  after- 
wards took  the  prison  keys,  and  flung  them  over 
Westminster  Bridge.  George  Sims,  a  tripeman 
in  St.  James's  Market,  always  forward  in  street 
quarrels,  then  went  up  to  the  great  gate  in  the  Old 
Bailey  with  some  others,  and  swore  desperately 
that  "  he  would  have  the  gates  down — curse  him,  he 
would  have  the  gates  down ! "  Then  the  storm 
broke;  the  mob  rushed  on  the  gate  with  the 
sledge-hammers  and  pickaxes  they  had  stolen  from 
coachmakers,  blacksmiths,  and  braziers  in  Drury 
Lane  and  Long  Acre,  and  plied  them  with  untiring 
fury.  The  tripeman,  who  carried  a  bludgeon,  urged 
them  on;  and  the  servant  of  Akerman,  having 
known  the  man  for  several  years,  called  ts  him 
through  the  hatch,  "  Very  well,  George  the  tripe- 
man ;  I  shall  mark  you  in  particular !"  Then 
John  Glover,  a  black,  a  servant  of  a  Mr.  Phillips, 
a  barrister  in  Lincoln's  Inn,  who  was  standing  on 
the  steps  leading  to  the  felons'  gate  (the  main  gate), 
dressed  in  a  rough  short  jacket,  and  a  round  hat 
trimmed  with  dirty  silver  lace,  thumped  at  the 
door  with  a  gun-barrel,  which  he  afterwards  tried 
to  thrust  through  the  grating  into  the  faces  of 
the  turnkeys,  while  another  split  the  door  with  a 
hatchet.  The  mob,  finding  they  could  not  force 
the  stones  out  round  the  hatch,  then  piled  Aker- 
man's shattered  furniture,  and  placing  it  against  the 
gates  set  the  heap  on  fire. 

Several  times  the  gate  caught  fire,  and  as  often 
the  turnkeys  inside  pushed  down  the  burning 
furniture  with  broomsticks,  which  they  pushed 
through  the  hatch,  and  kept  swilling  the  gates  with 
water,  in  order  to  cool  them,  and  to  keep  the  lead 
that  soldered  the  hinges  from  melting  and  giving 
way.  But  all  their  efforts  were  in  vain ;  for  the 
flames,  now  spreading  fast  from  Akerman's  house, 
gradually  burnt  in  to  the  fore-lodge  and  chapel,  and 
set  the  different  wards  one  after  the  other  on  fire. 
Crabbe  the  poet,  who  was  there  as  a  spectator, 
describes  seeing  the  prisoners  come  up  out  of  the 
dark  cells  with  their  heavy  irons,  and  looking  pale 
and  scared.  Some  of  them  were  carried  off  on 
horseback,  their  irons  still  on,  in  triumph  by  the 
mob,  who  then  went  and  burnt  down  the  Fleet. 
At  the  trial  of  Richard  Hyde,  the  poor  mad  Quaker, 
who  had  been  one  of  the  first  to  scramble  through 
Mr.  Akerman's  windows,  the  most  conclusive 
proofs  were  brought  forward  of  the  prisoner's  in- 
sanity. A  grocer  in  Bishopsgate  Street,  with  whom 
he  had  lodged,  deposed  to  his  burning  a  Bible,  and 
to  his  thrashing  him.     One  day  at  the  "Doctor' 


444 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tNewgatc 


Butler's  Head,"  in  Coleman  Street,  the  crazed  fellow 
had  come  in,  and  pretended  to  cast  the  nativities  of 
persons  drinking  there.  He  also  prophesied  how 
long  each  of  them  would  live.  On  hearing  this 
evidence,  the  prisoner  broke  out :  "  Well,  and  they 
might  live  three  hundred  years,  if  they  knew  how 
to  live  ;  but  they  gorge  themselves  like  aldermen. 
Callipash  and  callipee  kills  half  the  people."  It 
was  also  shown  that,  the  night  after  the  burning 
of  Newgate,  the  prisoner  came  to  a  poor  woman's  _ 


Crabbe,  who,  having  failed  as  a  surgeon  ar 
apothecary  down  at  Aldborough,  his  native  plac 
had  just  come  up  to  London  to  earn  his  bread  < 
a  poet,  and  being  on  the  brink  of  starvation,  w; 
about  to  apply  to  Burke  for  patronage  and  breai 
Rambling  in  a  purposeless  way  about  London  i 
while  away  the  miserable  time,  the  young  po( 
happened  to  reach  the  Old  Bailey  just  as  the  ragge 
rioters  set  it  on  fire  to  warm  their  Protestantisn 
Suddenly,  at  a  turning  out  of  Ludgate  Hill,  on  h: 


DOOR  OF  NEWGATE. 


house  in  Bedford  Court,  Covent  Garden,  and  he 
then  wore  an  old  grey  great-coat  and  a  flapped  hat, 
painted  blue.  As  the  paint  was  wet,  the  woman 
asked  him  to  let  her  dry  it.  He  replied,  "  No,  you 
are  a  fool ;  my  hat  is  blue"  (the  Protestant  colour); 
"  it  is  the  colour  of  the  heavens.  I  would  not  have 
it  dried  for  the  world."  When  the  woman  brought 
him  a  pint  of  beer,  he  drank  once,  and  then  pushed 
it  angrily  on  one  side.  He  then  said,  "  I  have 
tasted  it  once,  I  must  taste  it  three  times ;  it  is 
against  the  heavens  to  drink  only  once  out  of  a 
pot."  Doctor  Munro,  the  physician  who  attended 
George  III.  in  his  madness,  deposed  to  the  insanity 
both  of  the  prisoner's  father  and  the  prisoner.  He 
was  sent  to  a  mad-house. 


way  back  to  his  lodgings  at  a  hairdresser's  sho] 
near  the  Exchange,  a  scene  of  terror  and  horro 
broke  red  upon  the  view  of  the  mild  young  SuffoU 
apothecary.  The  new  prison,  Crabbe  says,  in  hi 
"  Journal "  kept  for  the  perusal  of  his  Myra  (Jun 
8th),  was  a  very  large,  strong,  and  beautiful  build 
ing,  having  two  wings  besides  Mr.  Akerraan' 
house,  and  strong  intermediate  works  and  othe 
adjuncts.  Akerman  had  four  rioters  in  custodj 
and  these  rascals  the  mob  demanded.  He  begge 
he  might  send  to  the  sheriff,  but  this  was  not  pel 
mitted.  "  How  he  escaped,  or  where  he  is  gone, 
know  not ;  but  just  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  the 
set  fire  to  his  house,  broke  in,  and  threw  ever 
piece  of  furniture  they  could  find  into  the  streei 


Newgate.  ] 


NEWGATE   IN   FLAMES. 


445 


86— Vol.  II. 


446 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Newgate. 


firing  them  also  in  an  instant.    The  engines  came" 
(they  were  mere  squirts  in  those  days),  "  but  were 
only  suffered  to  preserve  the  private  houses  near 
the  prison."     This  was  about  half-past  seven.     "As 
I  was  standing  near  the  spot,  there  approached 
another  body  of  men — I  suppose  five  hundred — 
and  Lord  George  Gordon  in  a  coach  drawn  by  the 
mob,  towards  Alderman  Bull's,  bowing  as  he  passed 
along.     He  is  a  lively-looking  young  man  in  ap- 
pearance, and  nothing  more,  though  just  now  the 
reigning  hero.      By  eight  o'clock  Akerman's  house 
was  in  flames.      I  went  close  to  it,  and  never  saw 
anything  so  dreadful.     The  prison  was,  as  I  said, 
a  remarkably  strong  building ;  but,  determined  to 
force  it,  they  broke  the  gates  with  crows  and  other 
instruments,  and  climbed  up  the  outside  of  the  cell 
part,  which  joins  the  two  great  wings  of  the  build- 
ing, where  the  felons  were  confined;   and  I  stood 
where  I  plainly  saw  their  operations.     They  broke 
the  roof,  tore  away   the   rafters,    and   having  got 
ladders  they  descended.      Not   Orpheus   himself 
had  more   courage    or  better  luck.      Flames   all 
around   them,   and  a  body  of  soldiers   expected, 
they  defied  and  laughed  at  all  opposition.     The 
prisoners  escaped.     I  stood  and  saw  about  twelve 
women  and  eight  men  ascend  from  their  confine- 
ment to  the  open  air,  and  they  were  conducted 
through  the  street  in  their  chains.     Three  of  these 
Ti'ere  to  be  hanged  on  Friday  "  (Newgate  was  burnt 
on  the  Tuesday).     "You  have  no  conception  of 
the  frenzy  of  the  multitude.    This  being  done,  and 
Akerman's  house  now  a  mere  shell  of  brickwork, 
they  kept  a  store  of  flame  there  for  other  purposes. 
It  became  red-hot,  and  the  doors    and  ^vindows 
appeared  like  the  entrance  to  so  many  volcanoes. 
With  some  difiiculty  they  then  fired  the  debtors' 
prison,  broke  the  doors,  and  they,  too,  all  made 
their  escape.      Tired  of  the  scene,  I  went  home, 
and  returned  again  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night.     I 
met  large  bodies  of  horse  and  foot  soldiers,  coming 
to  guard  the  Bank,  and  some  houses  of  Roman 
Catholics  near  it.     Newgate  was  at  this  time  open 
to  all  j  any  one  might  get  in,  and,  what  was  never 
the  case  before,  any  one  might  get  out.      I  did 
both,  for  the  people  were  now  chiefly  lookers-on. 
The  mischief  was  done,  and  the  doers  of  it  gone 
to  another  part   of  the  town"    (to    Bloomsbury 
Square,  to  burn  Lord  Mansfield's  house).      "  But 
I  must  not  omit  what  struck  me  most :  about  ten 
or  twelve  of  the  mob  getting  to  the  top  of  the 
debtors'  prison,  virhilst  it  was   burning,  to  halloo, 
they  appeared  rolled  in  black  smoke  mixed  with 
sudden  bursts  of  fire— like  Milton's  infernals,  who 
were  as  familiar  with  flame  as  with  each  otiier." 
On  the  Wednesday,  the  day  after  the  fire,  a  big 


carelessly-dressed  man  worked  his  way  to  the  ruins 
from  Bolt  Court,  Fleet  Street.  The  burly  man's 
name  was  Doctor  Samuel  Johnson,  and  he  wrote 
to  Mrs.  Thrale  and  her  husband  a  brief  account 
of  what  had  happened  since  the  Friday  before. 
On  that  day  Lord  George  Gordon  and  the  mob 
went  to  Westminster,  and  that  night  the  rioters 
burnt  the  Catholic  chajpel  in  Duke  Street,  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields.  On  Monday  they  gutted  Sir  George 
Saville's  house  in  Leicester  Square ;  on  Tuesday 
pulled  down  the  house  of  Sir  John  Fielding,  the 
bhnd  magistrate  and  the  novelist's  half-brother,  in 
Bow  Street ;  and  the  same  night  burnt  Newgate, 
Lord  Mansfield's  house  in  Bloomsbury,  and  a 
Catholic  chapel  in  MooiHelds.  On  Wednesday 
they  burnt  the  Fleet  and  the  King's  Bench,  and 
attacked  the  Bank  of  England,  but  were  driven  off 
by  a  party  of  constables  headed  by  John  Wilkes. 

"  On  Wednesday,"  says  the  doctor,  to  come  to 
what  he  actually  saw  himself,  "  I  walked  with 
Doctor  Scott,  to  look  at  Newgate,  and  found  it  in 
ruins,  with  the  fire  yet  glowing.  As  I  went  by,  the 
Protestants  were  plundering  the  Sessions  House 
at  the  Old  Bailey.  There  were  not,  I  believe,  a 
hundred ;  but  they  did  their  work  at  leisure,  in 
full  security,  without  sentinels,  without  trepidation, 
as  men  lawfully  employed  in  full  day.  Such  is  the 
cowardice  of  a  commercial  place.  On  Wednesday 
they  broke  open  the  Fleet,  and  the  King's  Bench, 
and  the  Mar|halsea,  and  Wood  Street  Compter, 
and  Clerkenwell  Bridewell,  and  released  all  the 
prisoners.  At  night  they  set  fire  to  the  Fleet,  and 
to  the  King's  Bench,  and  I  don't  know  how  many 
other  places ;  and  one  might  see  the  glare  of  con- 
flagration fill  the  sky  from  many  parts.  The  sight 
was  dreadful.  Some  people  were  threatened.  Mr. 
Strahan  advised  me  to  take  care  of  myself  .  . 
.  .  .  Several  chapels  have  been  destroyed,  and 
several  inoffensive  Papigts  have  been  plundered; 
but  the  high  sport  was  to  burn  the  gaols.  This  was 
a  good  rabble  trick.  The  debtors  and  the  criminals 
were  all  set  at  liberty ;  but  of  the  criminals,  as  has 
always  happened,  many  are  already  re-taken,  and 
two  pirates  have  surrendered  themselves,  and  it  is 
expected  that  they  will  be  pardoned."  Then  follows 
a  fine  touch  of  irony  :  "  Jack  "  (Wilkes),  "  who  was 
always  zealous  for  order  and  decency,  declares  that 
if  he  be  trusted  with  pow^r,  he  will  not  leave  a 
rioter  alive.  There  is,  however,  now  no  longer  any 
need  of  heroism  or  bloodshed;  no  blue  ribbon" 
(the  badge  of  the  rioters)  "is  any  longer  worn." 
As  for  Thrale,  his  brewery  escaped  pretty  well. 
The  men  gave  away  a  cask  or  two  of  beer  to  the 
mob,  and  wheri  the  rioters  came  on  a  second  and 
more  importunate  ^•isit,  the  soldiers  received  them. 


Newgate  1 


PREACHERS    IN    NEWGATE. 


447 


CHAPTER       L  I  I  I  . 

NEWGATE  (continued). 

Methodist  Preachers  in  Newgate— Silas  Told— The  Surgeons'  Crew— Dr.  Dodd,  the  Popular  Preacher— His  Forgery— Governor  Wall  at  Goree 
flogs  a  Soldier  to  Death — His  Last  Moments — Murder  of  Mr.  Steele — Execution  of  the  Cato  Street  Conspirators— Fauntleroy,  the  Banker 
— The  Murder  of  the  Italian  Boy — Greenacre — MtlUer — Courvoisier— His  E.xecution — Mrs.  Brownrigg — Mr.  Akerman  and  the  Fire  in 
Newgate— Mrs.  Fry's  Good  Work  in  Newgate— Escapes  from  Newgate— Jack  Sheppard— A  Good  Sermon  on  a  Bad  Text— Sanitary  Con- 
dition of  Newgate — Effect  upon  the  Prisoners. 


In  the  year  1744  Silas  Told,  a  worthy  Wesleyan, 
deeply  touched  by  a  sermon  preached  by  Wesley 
on  the  text,  "  I  was  sick  and  in  prison,  and  ye 
visited  me  not"  (Matt.  xxv.  43),  began  to  exert 
himself  among  the  prisoners  at  Newgate,  and 
has  left  a  graphic  and  simple-hearted  account  of 
his  labours  among  them ;  and  from  this  book  we 
obtain  many  curious  glimpses  of  prison  life  at  that 
period.  The  first  persons  Told  visited  were  ten 
malefactors,  then  under  sentence  of  death.  "  The 
report  having  been  made,"  says  Told,  "  and  the 
dead-warrant  coming  down,  eight  of  the  ten  were 
ordered  for  execution.  The  other  two  were 
respited;  nor  did  either  of  those  two  appear  to 
have  any  the  least  regard  or  concern  for  their 
deathless  souls  ;  therefore  I  trust  they  were  spared 
for  a  good  purpose,  that  they  might  have  time  for 
repentance  and  amendment  of  life. 

"  The  day  arrived  whereon  the  other  eight  male- 
factors were  to  die.  Sarah  Peters  and  myself  were 
early  at  the  cell,  in  order  to  render  them  all  the 
spiritual  service  that  was  within  our  power.  The 
keeper  having  received  directions  on  the  over-night 
to  lock  them  all  up  in  one  cell,  that  they  might 
pour  out  their  souls  together  in  fervent  solemn 
prayer  to  Almighty  God,  they  paid  very  circum- 
spect attention  thereto,  and  a  happy  night  it 
proved  to  each  of  them ;  so  that  when  they  were 
led  down  from  their  cell,  they  appeared  like  giants 
refreshed  with  wine,  nor  was  the  fear  of  death 
apparent  in  any  of  their  countenances.  We  then 
went  up  to  the  chapel,  when  my  companion  and 
myself  conversed  with  them  in  the  press-yard  room. 
Upon  being  called  out  to  have  their  irons  taken 
off,  Lancaster  was  the  first.  While  they  were  dis- 
burthening  his  legs  thereof,  the  sheriff  being  present, 
Lancaster  looked  up  to  heaven  with  a  pleasant 
smile,  and  said,  'Glory  be  to  God  for  the  first 
moment  of  my  entrance  into  this  place  !  For  before 
I  came  hither  my  heart  was  as  hard  as  my  cell  wall, 
and  my  soul  was  as  black  as  -hell.  But,  oh,  I  am 
now  washed,  clearly  washed,  from  all  my  sins,  and 
by  one  o'clock  shall  be  with  Jesus  in  Paradise!' 
And  with  many  stroTig  and  forcible  expressions  he 
exhorted  the  innumerable  spectators  to  flee  from 
the  wrath  to  come.  This  caused  the  sheriff  to  shed 
tears;  and  ask   Mr.  Lancaster  if  he  was  really  in 


earnest,  being  so  greatly  affected  with  his  lively 
and  animated  spirit.  As  their  irons  were  taken  off 
they  were  remanded  back  to  the  press-yard  room ; 
but,  by  some  accident,  they  were  a  long  time 
getting  off  the  last  man's  fetters.  When  they  were 
gotten  off,  Lancaster,  beholding  him  at  a  short 
distance,  clapped  his  hands  together,  and  joyfully 
proclaimed,  '  Here  comes  another  of  our  little^ 
flock !'  A  gentleman  present  said,  with  an  appa- 
rent sympathising  spirit,  '  I  think  it  is  too  great  a 
flock  upon  such  an  occasion.'  Lancaster,  with  the 
greatest  fluency  of  speech,  and  with  an  aspiring 
voice,  said,  '  Oh,  no  ;  it  is  not  too  great  a  flock  for 
the  shepherd  Jesus ;  there  is  room  enough  in 
heaven  for  us  all.'  When  he  exhorted  the  populace 
to  forsake  their  sins,  he  particularly  endeavoured 
to  press  on  them  to  come  to  the  Throne  of  Grace 
immediately,  and  without  fear,  assuring  them  that 
they  would  find  Him  a  gracious  and  merciful  God, 
to  forgive  them,  as  He  had  forgiven  him.  At  length 
they  were  ordered  into  the  cart,  and  I  was  pre- 
vailed upon  to  go  with  them.  When  we  were  in  the 
cart,  I  addressed  myself  to  each  of  these  separately." 

Told's  account  of  the  execution  of  these  men 
shows  clearly  how  lawless  and  savage  were  the 
mobs  which  gathered  at  Tyburn.  "When  we 
came  to  the  fatal  tree  Lancaster  lifted  up  his  eyes 
thereto,  and  said,  '  Blessed  be  God,'  then  prayed 
extemporary  in  a  very  excellent  manner,  and  the 
others  behaved  with  great  discretion.  John  Lan- 
caster had  no  friend  who  could  procure  for  his 
body  a  proper  interment ;  so  that,  when  they  had 
hung  the  usual  space  of  time,  and  were  cut  down, 
the  surgeon's  mob  secured  the  body  of  Lancaster, 
and  carried  it  over  to  Paddington.  There  was  a 
very  crowded  concourse,  among  whom  were  num- 
berless gin  and  gingerbread  vendors,  accompanied 
by  pickpockets  and  even  less  respectable  charac- 
ters, of  almost  every  denomination  in  London ; 
in  short,  the  whole  scene  resembled  a  principal 
fair,  rather  than  an  awful  execution.  Now,  when 
the  mob  was  nearly  dispersed,  and  there  remained 
only  a  few  bystanders,  with  an  old  woman  who 
sold  gin,  a  remarkable  occurrence  took  place,  and 
operated  to  the  following  effect : — 

"  A  company  of  eight  sailors,  with  truncheons  in 
their  hands,  having   come  to  see  the  execution, 


44« 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[Newgatp. 


looked  up  to  the  gallows  with  an  angry  countenance, 
the  bodies  having  been  cut  down  some  minutes 
previous  to  their  arrival.  The  old  woman  before 
named,  who  sold  gin,  observing  these  tars  to  grow 
violent,  by  reason  of  their  disappointment,  mildly 
accosted  them  and  said,  'Gentlemen,  I  suppose 
you  want  the  man  that  the  surgeons  have  got?' 
'Aye,'  replied  the  sailors;  'where  is  he?'  The 
poor  affrighted  woman  gave  them  to  understand 
that  the  surgeons'  crew  had  carried  him  over 
to  Paddington,  and  she  pointed  out  to  them  the 
direct  road  thereto.  They  hastened  away,  and  as 
they  entered  the  town,  inquiry  was  made  by  them 
where  the  surgeons'  mob  was  to  be  discovered,  and 
receiving  the  information  they  wanted,  they  went 
and  demanded  the  body  of  John  Lancaster.  When 
the  sailors  had  obtained  the  body,  two  of  them 
cast  it  on  their  shoulders,  and  carried  him  round  by 
Islington.  They  being  tired  out  with  its  pressure, 
two  others  laid  themselves  under  the  weight  of  the 
body,  and  carried  it  from  thence  to  Shoreditch. 
Then  two  more  carried  it  from  Shoreditch  to  Cover- 
ley's  Fields.  At  length,  after  they  were  all  rendered 
completely  weary,  and  unable  to  carry  it  any  farther, 
the  sequel  of  their  project,  and  their  ultimate  con- 
trivance to  rid  theiiKelves  of  the  body  was  an 
unanimous  consent  to  lay  it  on  the  step  of  the  first 
door  they  came  to.  They  did  so,  and  then  went 
their  way.  This  gave  birth  to  a  great  riot  in  the 
neighbourhood,  which  brought  an  old  woman,  who 
lived  in  the  house,  downstairs.  When  she  saw 
the  corpse  lie  at  the  step  of  the  door,  she  pro- 
claimed, with  an  agitated  spirit,  '  Lord,  here  is  my 
son,  John  Lancaster !'  This  being  spread  abroad, 
came  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Methodists,  who 
made  a  collection,  and  got  him  a  shroud  and  a  good 
strong  coffin.  I  was  soon  informed  of  this  event, 
which  was  peculiarly  singular,  as  the  seamen  had 
no  knowledge  of  the  body,  nor  to  whom  he  be- 
longed when  living.  My  second  wife  went  with 
me  to  see  him,  previous  to  the  burial ;  but  neither 
of  us  could  perceive  the  least  alteration  in  his 
visage  or  features,  or  any  appearance  of  violence 
on  any  part  of  his  body.  A  pleasant  smile 
appeared  in  his  countenance,  and  he  lay  as  in  a 
sweet  sleep." 

Told  gives  a  terrible  picture  of  the  state  of  New- 
gate about  1744 — the  felons  swearing  and  cursing 
at  the  preacher,  and  the  ordinary  himself  guarding 
the  prison  doors  on  Sunday  morning,  to  obstruct 
Told's  entrance.  Told,  however,  zealous  in  the 
cause,  persevered,  and  soon  formed  a  society  of 
about  forty  of  the  debtors,  who  formed  his  Sunday 
congregation.  The  ordinary,  howevef,  soon  con- 
trived to  shut  out  Told  from  this  part  of  the  prison 


also.     He  therefore  betook  himself  almost  entirely 
to  the  graver  malefactors.     His  account  of  some 
of  these   unhappy  men   is   extremely  interestmg. 
During   his  visits  to   Newgate   six   men  of  good 
family  were   lying  there,   sentenced  to  death  for 
highway  robbery.     Of  these,  one  was  the  son  of  an 
Irish  divine,  two  others  were  men  of  fortune,  and 
a  fourth  was  a  naval  officer,  to  whom  a  daughter  of 
the  Duke  of  Hamilton  was  engaged  to  be  married. 
After  an  election  dinner,  at  Chelmsford,  these  men, 
for  fun,  had  sallied  out  and  robbed  a  fanner  in 
the  highway.     The  king  was  unwilling  to  pardon 
any  of  the  party;  but  at  the  incessant  importu- 
nities of  Lady  Elizabeth  Hamilton,  at  last  consented 
to  reprieve   her  lover,  but   only  at   the   gallows' 
foot.     He  fainted  when  the  halter  was  removed, 
and  was  instantly  lifted   into  the  carriage,  where 
Lady   Betty   awaited   him.      Six   weeks   after,   to 
Told's  vexation,  he  found  the  reprieved  man  gam- 
bling with  a  fraudulent  bankrupt,  who  shortly  after- 
wards was  himself  executed  at  Tyburn.     Told's 
next  visit   was  to  Mary  Edmonson,  a  poor  girl 
hung  at  Kennington  Common  for  murdering  her 
aunt  at  Rotherhithe.     The  girl  was  entirely  inno- 
cent, and  the  real  murderer,  a  relation,  who  was  a 
foot-soldier,  came  up  into  the  cart  to  salute  her 
before  she  was  turned  off.      Some  time  after,  this 
man  riding  in  a  post-chaise  past  the  gallows  at 
Kennington,  said  to  a  friend,  "  There  is  the  place 
where   my  kinswoman  was   hung  wrongfully.      I 
should    have    gone   in  her  room."      The    rascal 
was  soon  after  found   guilty  of  highway  robbery, 
and  cast  for  death,  but  reprieved  by  the  judge, 
who  did  not  wish  to  draw  attention  to  the  scandal 
of  an  innocent  person  having  been   sent  to  the 
gallows.      Silas  Told  says  that  at  the   execution 
of  Mary  Edmonson  he  walked  by  the  cart,  urging 
her  to  prayer,  holding  the  bridle  of  the  sheriff's 
horse,    in    spite    of   a    most    cruel    and    violent 
mob.     Told  also  mentions   attending  Harris,  the 
"  Flying    Highwayman,"   to    the    gallows,   a  man 
who,  the  very  morning  of  his  execution,  was  so 
violent  in  the  chapel  that  the  ordinary  ran  for  his 
life.     Just  beyond  Hatton  Garden,  after  some  ex- 
hortations of  honest  Told,  the  indomitable  rufiSaii, 
at  his  request,  shut  his  eyes,  hung  back  his  head 
on  the  side-rail  of  the  cart,  and  after  ten  minutes' 
meditation  burst  into  tears,  and,  clapping  his  hands 
together,  cried,  "  Now  I  know  that  the  Lord  Jesus 
has  forgiven  me  all  my  sins,  and  I  have  nothing  to 
do  but  to  die."     He  then  burst  into  a  loud  extem- 
porary prayer,  and  continued  happy  to  the  last, 
but  still  denying  that  he  ever  "  flew"  a  turnpike- 
gate  in  his  life.     Another  case  mentioned  by  Told 
does  not  give  us  a  very  enlarged  view  of  the  tender 


Newgate.] 


VENTILATION   OF   NEWGATE. 


449 


mercies  of  the  time.  A  poor  man,  Anderson,  en- 
tirely destitute,  was  sentenced  to  death  for  taking 
sixpence  from  two  washerwomen  in  Hoxton  Fields. 
The  man  had  served  with  credit  on  board  a  man- 
of-war,  and  his  own  parish  had  petitioned  on  his 
behalf.  The  Privy  Council,  however,  insisted  on 
confounding  him  with  one  of  the  same  name,  a 
celebrated  highwayman  of  the  day,  and  to  Tyburn 

he  went. 

In  1770,  when  Mr.  Akerman,  one  of  the  keepers, 
appeared  before  a  Committee   of  the   House   of  | 
Commons,  Newgate  appears  to  have  been  a  sink 
of  filth  and  a  den  of  iniquity.     It  was  over-crowded, 
ill-disciplined,  badly  ventilated,  and  ill-supplied  with 
water.    The  prisoners  died  in  great  numbers ;  and 
as  Mr.  Akerman,  a  good  and  trusty  official,  stated, 
two  whole  sets  of  gaol-officers   had  been  cut  off 
by  gaol   distemper    since  he  had  been  in  office; 
and  in  the  spring  of  1750  the  gaol  was  so  terribly 
infectious,  that  the  contagion  was  carried  into  the 
Old  Bailey  court,  and  two  of  the  judges,  the  Lord 
Mayor,  and  several  of  the  jury,  more  than  sixty 
in  all,  died  in  consequence.      A  huge  ventilator 
was  then '  erected,   but   this    alarmed   the    whole 
neighbourhood,  and  the  residents  complained,  with 
bitter  outcries,  that  the  poisonous  air  was  drawn 
from  the  prison  cells,  to  destroy  all  who  lived  near. 
One   of  the   earliest   anecdotes  of  Newgate   is 
to  be  found  in  a  letter  to  the   Duke    of  Shrews- 
bury, dated  August  10,   1699.      "  All  the  talk  of 
the  town,"  says  the  writer,    "is  about  a  tragical 
piece  of  gallantry  at  Newgate.     I  don't  doubt  but 
what  your  grace  has  heard  of  a  bastard  son  of 
Sir  George  Norton,  who   was  under   sentence  of 
death  for  killing  a  dancing-master  in  the  streets. 
The  Lords  Justices  reprieved  him,  till  they  heard 
from   the  judge   that    no    exception    was    to   be 
taken  at  the  verdict.      It    being   signified  to   the 
young  man,  on    Tuesday  last  in   the    afternoon, 
that  he  was  to  die  the  next  day,  his  aunt,  who  was 
sister  to  his  mother,  brought  two  doses  of  opium, 
and  they  took  it  between  them.      The   ordinary 
came  soon  after  to  perform   his    functions;    but 
before  he  had  done,  he  found  so  great  alterations  in 
both  persons  that  it  was  no   hard  matter  to  find 
out  the  cause  of  it.      The  aunt  frankly  declared 
she  could  not  survive  her  nephew,  her  life  being 
wrapped  up  in  his  ;    and  he  declared  that  the  law 
having  put  a  period  to  his  life,  he  thought  it  no 
offence  to  choose  the  way  he  would  go  out  of  the 
world.    The  keeper  sent  for  his  apothecary  to  apply 
remedies,  who  brought  two  vomits.      The  young 
man  refused  to  take  it,  till  they  threatened  to  force 
it  down  by  instruments.      He  told  them,  since  he 
hoped  the  business  was  done,  he  would  make  him- 


self and  them  easy,  and  swallowed  the  potion,  and 
his  aunt  did  the  like.  The  remedy  worked  upon 
her,  and  set  her  a-vomiting,  but  had  no  effect  on 
Mr.  Norton,  so  that  he  dozed  away  gradually,  and 
by  eight  that  evening  was  grown  senseless,  though 
he  did  not  expire  till  nine  next  morning.  He  was 
fully  resolved  upon  the  business,  for  he  had  like- 
wise a  charged  pistol  hid  in  the  room.  The  aunt 
was  carried  to  a  neighbouring  house,  and  has  a 
guard  upon  her.  They  say  she  is  like  to  recover ; 
if  she  does,  it  will  be  hard  if  she ,  suffer  for  such  a 
transport  of  affection." 

Among  the  many  guiUy  and  unhappy  criminals 
who  have  sat  in  Newgate  and  counted  the  moments 
that  lay  between  them  and  death,  one  of  the  most 
unhappy  must  have  been  that  once  popular  preacher. 
Dr.  Dodd,  who   was   hung   for  forgery  in    1777. 
Dodd  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman  who  was  vicar  of 
Bourne,  in  Lincolnshire.     On  leaving  Cambridge 
he  married  imprudently,  and  became  a  small  poet, 
and  compiler  of  the  "  Beauties  of  Shakespeare,"  a 
work  still  reprinted.    He  then  renounced  literature, 
entered  the  Church,  and  in  1758  was  appointed 
preacher  to  the  Magdalen  Hospital,  where  Horace 
Walpole  describes  his  flowery  sermons,  which  set 
all  the  ladies  of  fashion  sobbing.     Gross  flattery  of 
Dr.  Squire,  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  procured  him, 
in  1763,  the  prebendaryship  of  Brecon.     Soon  after 
this   the  grateful  bishop  introduced  Dodd  to  the 
Eari  of  Chesterfield,  as  a  tutor  to  his  son,  and 
about  the  same  time  Dodd  was  appointed  one  of 
the  king's  chaplains,  and  in  1766  took  his  degree 
of  LL.D.   at   Cambridge.      He  now  dabbled   in 
lotteries,  and,  having  won  a  ;^i,ooo  prize,  erected 
a  chapel  near  Buckingham  Palace,  and  also  bought 
a  share  in  Chariotte  Chapel,  Bloomsbury.     Over- 
whelmed  with   debt,   Dodd  brought   out   several 
religious  works,  with  the  hope  of  winning  patrons 
by  his   fulsome   dedications.       In    1773   he  was 
appointed  chaplain   to   the  young   Lord  Chester- 
field, the  hopeless  cub  to  whom   the   celebrated 
"Letters"   were   addressed.     The   rich  living    of 
St.    George's,   Hanover  Square,   just   then  falling 
vacant,    Dodd  was    unwise   enough    to   write   an 
anonymous  letter  to  Lady  Apsley,  wife  of  the  Lord 
Chancellor,  offering  £3>°°°  ^°^  the  appointment. 
The  letter  was  traced  to  its  source,  and  handed 
to  the    king,  and  the  writer's  name  was  ordered 
immediately  to  be  struck  out  of  the  Hst  of  chaplains. 
Foote,  always  cruel  in  his  fun,  introduced  Dodd 
into  one  of  his  Haymarket  pieces  as  Dr.  Simony. 
Dodd  promised  an  explanation,  but  it  never  came. 
He  retired  for  a  time  to  Geneva,  and  the  society 
of  Lord  Chesterfield,  till  the  storm  blew  over. 
Though  enjoying  an  income  of  ;^8oo  a  year, 


45° 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Newgate. 


Dodd,  entangled  by  press  of  debts,  one  fatal  day, 
signed  the  name  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  his  old  pupil, 
to  a  bond  for  ^^4,200.  The  signature  disowned, 
Dodd,  who  then  lived  in  Argyle  Street,  was  appre- 
hended. He  at  once  repaid  part  of  the  money, 
and  gave  a  judgment  on  his  goods  for  the  re- 
mainder.    The  prosecutors  were  reluctant  to  pro- 


In  Newgate  this  vain  and  shallow  man  acted 
the  martyr,  and  wrote  a  book  called  "Thoughts 
in  Prison,"  and  believed  in  the  possibility  of  a 
reprieve,  though  the  king  was  inflexible,  because 
in  a  recent  case  of  forgery  (that  of  Daniel  and 
Robert  Perreau,  wine  merchants),  the  sentence  had 
been  carried  out.     "  If  Dr.   Dodd  is  pardoned," 


immfi'H 


THE  CONDEMNED  CELL  IN   NEWGATE. 


ceed ;  and  Lord  Chesterfield,  it  is  said,  placed  the 
forgery  in  Dodd's  hands,  as  he  stood  near  a  fire,  in 
hopes  that  he  would  destroy  it ;  but  Dodd  wanted 
promptitude  and  presence  of  mind,  and  soon  after 
the  I^ord  Mayor  compelled  the  prosecution.  He 
was  tried  and  found  guilty.  Dr.  Johnson,  on  being 
applied  to,  wrote  the  speech  delivered  by  Dodd 
before  his  sentence.  He  also  composed  several 
petitions  for  him,  and  a  sermon  which  Dr.  Dodd 
delivered  to  his  fellow-prisoners  shortly  before  his 
execution. 


the  king  said,  "  then  the  Perreaus  were  mur- 
dered." 

The  friends  of  Dodd  were  zealous  to  the  last. 
Dr.  Johnson  told  Eoswell  that  ^1,000  were  ready 
for  any  gaoler  who  would  let  him  escape.  A 
wax  image  of  him  had  also  been  made,  to  be  left 
in  his  bed,  but  the  scheme,  somehow  or  other, 
miscarried.  Anthony  Morris  Storer,  writing  to 
George  Selwyn,  who  had  a  passion  for  executions, 
thus  describes  Dodd's  behaviour  at  Tyburn  : — 

"The  doctor,  to  all  appearance,  was  rendered 


Vewgatp.l 


DR.   nODD. 


451 


452 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Newgate. 


perfectly  stupid  from  despair.  His  hat  was  flapped 
all  round,  and  pulled  over  his  eyes,  which  were 
never  directed  to  any  object  around,  nor  even 
raised,  except  now  and  then  lifted  up  in  the  course 
of  his  prayers.  He  came  in  a  coach,  and  a  very 
heavy  shower  of  rain  fell  just  upon  his  entering  the 
cart,  and  another  just  at  his  putting  on  his  night-cap. 
"  He  was  a  considerable  time  in  praying,  which 
some  people  standing  about  seemed  rather  tired 
with ;  they  rather  wished  for  some  more  interesting 
part  of  the  tragedy.  The  wind,  which  was  high, 
blew  off  his  hat,  which  rather  embarrassed  him, 
and  discovered  to  us  his  countenance,  which  we 
could  scarcely  see  before.  His  hat,  however,  was 
soon  restored  to  him,  and  he  went  on  with  his 
prayers.  There  were  two  clergymen  attending 
him,  one  of  whom  Seemed  very  much  affected; 
the  other,  I  suppose,  was  the  ordinary  of  Newgate, 
as  he  was  perfectly  indifferent  and  unfeeling  in 
everything  that  he  said  and  did. 

"The  executioner  took  both  the  hat  and  wig  off 
at  the  same  time.  Why  he  put  on  his  wig  again  I 
do  not  know,  but  he  did,  and  the  doctor  took  off 
his  wig  a  second  time,  and  then  tied  on  a  nightcap 
which  did  not  fit  him  ;  but  whether  he  stretched 
that,  or  took  another,  I  could  not  perceive.  He 
then  put  on  his  nightcap  himself,  and  upon  his 
taking  it,  he  certainly  had  a  smile  on  his  counte- 
nance. Very  soon  afterwards  there  was  an  end  of 
all  his  hopes  and  fears  on  this  side  the  grave.  He 
never  moved  from  the  place  he  first  took  in  the 
cart;  seemed  absorbed  in  despair,  and  utterly 
dejected  without  any  other  signs  Of  animation  but 
in  praying." 

There  is  a  tradition  that  the  hangman  had  been 
bribed  to  place  the  knot  of  the  rope  in  a  particular 
manner  under  Dodd's  ear,  and  also  that  when  cut 
down,  the  body  was  driven  off  to  a  house  in 
Goodge  Street,  where  Pott,  the  celebrated  surgeon, 
endeavoured  to  restore  animation.  But  the  crowd 
had  been  great,  and  the  delay  too  long;  never- 
theless, it  was  believed  by  many  at  the  time  that 
Dodd  was  really  resuscitated  and  sent  abroad.  His 
wife,  who  regarded  him  with  great  affection,  died 
some  years  after,  in  poverty. 

In  1802  Governor  Wall  was  hung  at  Newgate, 
for  the  murder  of  Benjamin  Armstrong,  a  soldier, 
who  had  been  under  his  command  at  Goree,  in 
Africa.  The  high  rank  of  Wall,  and  the  long 
period  that  had  elapsed  since  the  crime  had  been 
committed,  excited  great  interest  in  his  fate.  He 
had  been  Governor  of  Goree  in  1782,  and  was  dis- 
liked by  both  officers  and  men,  for  his  severe  and 
unforgiving  disposition.  The  day  before  he  re- 
turned to  England,  worn  out  with  tiie  climate, 


twenty  or  thirty  men  of  the  African  corps  came  to 
petition  the  governor  with  regard  to  certain  money 
stopped  from  their  pay.     The  spokesman  at  the 
head  of  these  soldiers  was  the  unfortunate  Benjamin 
Armstrong,  who  was  extremely  respectful  in  his 
manner,  and  paid  the  governor  every  deference. 
Wall,  whose  temper  was  no  doubt  aggravated  by 
illness,  instantly  ordered  Armstrong  and  his  com- 
panions back  to  the  barracks,  and  threatened  them 
with  punishment.     The  men  obeyed,  and  quietly 
retired.     Soon  after  his  dinner-hour,  Wall  ran  out 
of  his  rooms,  and  beat  a  man  who  appeared  to  be 
drunk,  and  snatching  a  bayonet  from  the  sentry, 
struck  him  with  it,  and  ordered  both  men  under 
arrest.  Eager  for  revenge  on  the  "mutinous  rascals," 
as  he  called  them.  Wall  then  ordered  the  long-roll 
to  be, beat,  and  parade  called.  Three  hundred  men, 
without  firearms,  were  formed  into  a  circle,  two 
deep,  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  the  drummers, 
and  the  governor  andjiis  staff.    A  gun-carriage  was 
then  dragged  up,   and  Benjamin  Armstrong  was 
called  from  the  ranks.     Five  or  six  black  slaves 
then  lashed  the  unfortunate  soldjer  to  the  rings  of 
the  gun-carriage,  and  Armstrong  was  ordered  800 
lashes.    With  unusual  cruelty,  the  governor  ordered 
the  slaves  to  use,  not  the  cat-o'-nine-tails,  but  long 
lashings  of  rope,  nearly  an  inch  in  circumference. 
Every  twenty-five  lashes  a  fresh  slave  was  called 
up  to  continue  the  punishment,  and  the  governor 
encouraged  the  slaves  by  shouting  "  Lay  on,  you 
black  beasts,  or  I'll  lay  on  you.     Cut  him  to  the 
heart;   cut  his   liver   out       At  the   end  of  this 
ferocity,  Armstrong,  with  his  back  beaten  black, 
was  led  to  the  hospital,  saying  he  should  certainly 
die.     The  rope  had  bruised,  not  cut  the  flesh,  yet 
the  injuries  were  only  the  more  dangerous.    Five 
days  after  the  governor  left  Goree  Armstrong  died. 
In  1784  Wall  was  arrested  at  Bath,  but  managed 
to  escape  from  the  king's  messengers,  at  the  "Brown 
Bear,"  Reading,  and  escaped  to  France,  where  he 
changed  his  name.     Many  years  later  Wall  rashly 
returned  to  England,  and  in  1801  wrote  tO  Lord 
Pelham,  Secretary  of  State,  announcing  his  readi- 
ness to  submit  to  a  trial.    He  was  tried  in  1802.    He 
pleaded  that  Armstrong  was  the  ringleader  of  an 
open  mutiny.     A  prisoner  had  been  released,  he 
himself  had  been  threatened  with  a  bayonet,  and 
the   soldiers   had  threatened  to  break   open  the 
stores.     He  denied  that  he  had  ever  blown  men 
from  cannon.     It  was  clear  from  the  evidence  that 
the  grossest  cruelty  had  been  used,  and  Wall  was 
at  once  found  guilty,  and  sentence  of  death  passed. 
In  that  curious  and  amusing  work,  "  A  Book  for 
a  Rainy  Day,"  Mr.  J.  T.  Smith,  formerly  keeper  of 
the  Print  Room  in  the  British  Museum,  says;— 


Newgale.} 


GOVERNOR  WALL. 


453 


"Solomon,  a  pencil  dealer,  assured  me  that  he 
could  procure  me  a  sight  of  the  governor,  if  I  would 
only  accompany  him  in  the  evening  to  Hatton 
Garden,  and  smoke  a  pipe  with  Dr.  Ford,  the  ordi- 
nary of  Newgate,  with  whom  he  said  he  was  par- 
ticularly intimate.  Away  we  trudged,  and  upon 
entering  the  club-room  of  a  public-house,  we  found 
the  said  doctor  most  pompously  seated  in  a  superb 
masonic  chair,  under  a  stately  crimson  canopy, 
placed  between  the  windows.  The  room  was 
clouded  with  smoke  whiffed  to  the  ceiling,  which 
gave  me  a  better  idea  of  what  I  had  heard  of  the 
Black  Hole  of  Calcutta  than  any  place  I  had  seen. 
There  were  present  at  least  a  hundred  associates 
of  every  denomination.  Of  this  number,  my  Jew, 
being  a  favoured  man,  was  admitted  to  a  whisper- 
ing audience  with  the  doctor,  which  soon  produced 
my  introduction  to  him." 

Sunrise,  the  next  morning,  found  Mr.  Smith 
waiting  by  appointment  for  his  new  friend.  Dr. 
Ford,  at  Newgate ;  and  this  is  how  he  describes 
the  end  of  Governor  W|ill : — 

"  As  we  crossed  the  press-yard  a  cock  crew,  and 
the  solitary  clanking  of  a  restless  chain  was  dread- 
fully horrible.  The  prisoners  had  not  risen.  Upon 
our  entering  a  cold  stone  room,  a  most  sickly 
stench  of  green  twigs,  with  which  an  old  round- 
shouldered,  goggle-eyed  man  was  endeavouring  to 
kindle  a  fire,  annoyed  me  almost  as  much  as  the 
canaster  fumigation  of  the  doctor's  Hatton  Garden 
friends. 

"  The  prisoner  entered.   He  was  death's  counter- 
feit, tall,  shrivelled,  and  pale ;  and  his  soul  shot  so 
piercingly  through  the  port-holes  of  his  head,  that 
the  first  glance  of  him  nearly  terrified  me.     I  said 
in  rny  heart,  putting  my  pencil  in  my  pocket,  'God 
forbid  that  I  should  disturb  thy  last  moments ! ' 
His  hands  were  clasped,  and  he  was  truly  penitent. 
After  the  yeoman  had  requested  him  to  stand  up, 
he  'pinioned  him,'  as  the  Newgate  phrase  is,  and 
tied  the  cord  with  so  little  feeling,  that  the  governor, 
who  had  not  given  the  wretch  the  accustomed  fee, 
observed,    'You  have  tied   me  very  tight,'  upon 
which    Dr.    Ford   ordered    him    to    slacken    the 
cord,  which  he   did,  but  not  without   muttering. 
'  Thank  you,  sir,'  said  the  governor  to  the  doctor, 
'it  is  of  litde  moment.'      He  then  observed  to  the 
attendant,  who  had  brought  in  an  immense  iron 
shovelful  of  coals  to  throw  on  the  fire,   'Ay,  in 
one  hour  that  will  be  a  blazing  fire;'  then,  turning 
to  the  doctor,  questioned  him,  '  Do  tell  me,  sir  :  I 
am  informed  I  shall  go  down  with  great  force  ;  is 
that  so  ? '    After  the  construction  and  action  of  the 
machine  had  been  explained,  the  doctor  questioned 
the  governor  as  to  what  kind  of  men  he  had  at 


Goree.  '  Sir,'  he  answered,  '  they  sent  me  the  very 
riff-raff.'  The  poor  soul  then  joined  the  doctor  in 
prayer ;  and  never  did  I  witness  more  contrition  at 
any  condemned  sermon  than  he  then  evinced." 

Directly  the  execution  was  over,  Mr.  Smith  left 
Newgate,  where  the  hangman  was  selling  the  rope 
that  had  hung  Governor  Wall  for  a  shilling  an  inch, 
and  in  Newgate  Street  a  starved  old  man  was 
selling  another  identical  rope,  at  the  ridiculously 
low  price  of  only  sixpence  an  inch ;  while  at  the 
north-east  comer  of  Warwick  Lane  a  woman  known 
as  "  Rosy  Emma,"  reputed  wife  of  the  yeoman  of 
the  halter,  was  selling  a  third  identical  noose  to 
the  Epping  buttermen,  who  had  come  that  morning 
to  Newgate  Market. 

The  execution,  in  the  year  1807,  of  two  men, 
named  Haggerty  and  Holloway,  for  the  murder 
in  November,  1802,  of  Mr.  Steel,  a  lavender-mer- 
chant in  the  Strand,  led  to  a  frightful  catakrophe. 
,The  body  of  th^  murdered  man  was  found  in  a 
gravel-pit  between  Hounslow  and  Staines,  the  head 
crushed  in  by  the  blow  of  a  bludgeon.     Nothing 
could   be    discovered    of  the   offenders    till   the 
beginning  of  1807,  when  Hanfield,  a  convict  at 
Portsmouth,  confessed  that  he  had  helped  in  the 
murder,  and  disclosed  the  names  of  his  two  ac- 
complices.     One  of  these  men,  Haggerty,  was  a 
marine  on  board  the  Shannon  frigate,  then  lying  in 
at  Deal;  the  other,  Holloway,  a  thief,  was  then 
lying  in  Clerkenwell  Prison.     The  informer's  story 
was  this  : — The  robbery  had  been  planned  at  the 
"Black  Horse  and   Turk's  Head,"   Dyot  Street, 
Bloomsbury,  whence  the   three  men  had   started 
together  to  Hounslow  Heath.     The  doomed  man 
came   at  the   time   expected,  and   they  knocked 
him   down.     While   they  were    searching   him    a 
night-coach  appeared,  and  Mr.  Steele  struggled  to 
get  across  the  road.      Holloway  then  called  out, 
"  I'll  silence  the  beggar,''  and  killed  him  with  two 
furious  blows  of  a  bludgeon.      The  evidence  of 
this  man  was  much  doubted  at  the  time.     He  had 
been  a   hackney-coachman,  and  a  thief,  and  had 
deserted  from  several  regiments ;  and  it  was  proved 
that  he  had  been  heard  to  say,  that  rather  than 
bear  seven  years  at  the  hulks,  he  would  hang  as 
many  men  as  were  killed  at  the  battle  of  Copen- 
hagen.    In   the   court,   the   two   men,  who   were 
found  guilty,  pleaded  their  innocence,  and  the  last 
act  of  Holloway,  in  the  press-yard,  was  to  fall  on 
his  knees,  and  declare  before   God  that  he  was 
innocent.     Haggerty  also  protested  his  innocence, 
but  without  going  on  his  knees.     On  the  day  of 
execution  some  80,000  people  assembled.     Even 
before  the  prisoners  appeared,  several  women  were 
trampled  to  death.     At  the  end  of  Green  Arbour 


454 


OLD    AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[Newgate. 


Court,  a  pieman  and  his  basket  being  upset,  many- 
persons  fell  and  perished.  One  poor  woman, 
feeling  herself  lost,  threw  an  infant  at  her  breast  to 
a  bystander,  who  passed  it  on  and  on,  till  it  was 
placed  safely  under  a  cart.  In  one  part  of  the 
crowd  seven  persons  died  from  suffocation  alone. 
A  cart,  overladen  with  spectators,  broke  down, 
and  inany  of  those  who  were  in  it  were  trampled 
to  death.  Nothing  could  be  so  horrible  as  this 
fighting  crowd,  mad  with  rage  and  fear.  Till  the 
gallows  was  removed,  and  the  marshals  and  con- 
stables cleared  the  street,  nothing  could  be  done 
for  the  sufferers.  Twenty-eight  persons  were  killed 
and  nearly  seventy  injured  in  this  brutal  struggle. 

The  execution  of  the  Cato  Street  conspirators 
before  Newgate,  on  Monday,  May  i,  1826,  was 
one  of  the  most  ghastly  scenes  ever  witnessed  by 
a  London  mob.  Thistlewood,  the  leader  of  this 
conspiracy,  had  been  in  the  Marines.  His  com- 
panions were  James  Ings,  a  butcher;  Richard 
Tidd,  a  bootmaker ;  William  Davidson,  a  cabinet- 
maker;  John  T.  Bnmt,  and  others.  They  had 
agreed  to  take  advantage  of  a  dinner  at  the  Earl 
of  Harrowby's,  in  Grosvenor  Square,  to  which  all 
the  cabinet  ministers  had  been  invited,  to  break  in 
and  murder  them  all.  Ings  had  resolved  that  the 
heads  of  Lords  Castlereagh  and  Sidmouth  should 
be  cut  off  and  put  in  two  bags  provided  for  the 
purpose ;  and  he  particularly  wished  to  preserve 
the  right  hand  of  Lord  Castlereagh  as  a  valuable 
curiosity.  The  cannon  in  Gray's  Inn  Lane  and 
the  Artillery  Ground  were  to  be  captured,  the 
Mansion  House  taken,  the  Bank  sacked,  the 
barracks  fired,  and  a  Provisional  Government 
established.  Pikes  and  guns  had  been  collected, 
and  hand-grenades  made.  The  conspirators  were 
discovered  in  a  loft  in  Cato  Street,  Edgware  Road. 
Smithers,  about  the  first  police-officer  who  entered, 
was  run  through  with  a  sword  by  Thistlewood,  and 
a  desperate  struggle  then  ensued.  At  this  moment 
Captain  Fitzclarence  (son  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence) 
arrived,  with  a  party  of  the  Coldstream  Guards, 
and  captured  nine  of  the  conspirators.  Thistle- 
wood was  taken  the  next  day,  at  a  house  in  Little 
Moorfields. 

At  the  trial  eleven  of  the  conspirators  were 
sentenced  to  death,  but  six  of  these  were  after- 
wards respited.  Thistlewood,  Ings,  Brunt,  Tidd, 
and  Davidson  were  executed.  The  Government 
had  shown  the  utmost  anxiety  to  prevent  a  riot  or 
a  rescue.  Life  Guards  were  stationed  in  the  Old 
Bailey,  Newgate  Street,  and  Ludgate  Hill,  and  one 
hundred  artillerymen  and  six  pieces  of  artillery 
were  placed  in  the  centre  of  Blackfriars  Bridge. 
The  scaffold  was  lined  with  black  cloth,  and  near 


the  drop  were  five  plain  coffins,  and  a  block  for 
the  decapitation  of  the  criminals.  Thistlewood 
was  the  first  to  ascend  the  scaffold.  He  was  col- 
lected and  calm,  and  bowed  twice  to  the  crowd. 
When  Mr.  Cotton  exhorted  him  to  pray,  and  asked 
him  if  he  repented  of  his  crime,  he  exclaimed, 
several  times,  "  No,  not  at  all !"  and  was  also  heard 
to  say,  "  I  shall  soon  know  the  last  grand  secret." 
Tidd  ran  up  the  steps,  and  bowed  on  all  sides. 
There  was  a  slight  cheering  when  he  appeared, 
in  which  he  made  a  faint  attempt  to  join.  Ings 
seemed  mad  with  excitement.  He  moved  his  head 
to  and  fro,  cried  "  Huzza  !"  three  times,  and  com- 
menced singing,  "  Oh,  give  me  death  or  liberty ! " 
There  was  partial  cheering.  He  exclaimed,  from 
time  to  time,  "  Here  we  go,  my  lads  !  You  see  the 
last  remains  of  James  Ings.  Remember,  I  die  the 
enemy  of  tyranny,  and  would  sooner  die  in  chains 
than  live  in  slavery.''  When  the  chaplain  exhorted 
him,  the  reckless  ruffian  said,  with  a  coarse  laugh,  "  I 
am  not  afraid  to  go  before  God  or  man."  Then  he 
shouted  to  the  silent  executioner,  "  Now,  old  man, 
finish  me  tidy.  Pull  the  halter  a  little  tighter :  it 
might  slip."  He  then  waved  a  handkerchief  three 
times,  and  said  he  hoped  the  chaplain  would  give 
him  a  good  character.  Davidson,  a  man  of  colour, 
who  had  just  received  the  sacrament,  prayed  with 
great  fervency,  and  expressed  penitence  for  his 
crimes.  All  he  said  was,  "  God  bless  you  all ! 
Good-bye  ! "  and  after  the  Lord's  Prayer,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  God  save  the  king  !" 

Brunt,  the  last  who  came  out,  requested  some 
bystander  to  get  him  some  snuff  out  of  his  pocket, 
as  his  hands  were  tied.  He  took  it  with  great 
coolness,  and  said  he  wondered  wljere  the  gaoler 
would  put  him,  but  he  supposed  it  would  be  some- 
where where  he  should  sleep  well.  He  would 
make  a  present  of  his  body  to  King  George  the 
Fourth. 

Thistlewood,  just  before  he  was  turned  off,  said 
in  a  low  tone  to  a  person  under  the  scaffold,  "  I 
have  now  but  a  few  moments  to  live,  and  I  hope 
the  world  will  think  that  I  have  at  least  been 
sincere  in  my  endeavours.''  At  the  last  moment, 
Tidd  cried  out  to  Ings,  "How  are  you,  my 
hearty?" 

At  a  signal  given  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Cotton  the 
platform  fell.  At  the  very  instant  Ings  was  observed 
to  join  Davidson  in  prayer.  Half  an  hour  after,  a 
"  resurrection-man,"  who  received  a  fee  of  twenty 
guineas,  disguised  in  a  rough  jacket  and  trousers, 
and  a  mask  on  his  face,  appeared  with  an  am- 
putating-knife,  and  severed  Thistlewood's  head 
from  his  body.  The  hangman's  man  then  held  up 
the  head  by  the  hair,  and  exclaimed 'three  times, 


NewgateO 


ANECDOTES  OF  FAUNTLEROY. 


455 


"  This  is  the  head  of  Arthur  Thistlewood,  a  traitor." 
The  same  ceremony  was  then  performed  with  skill 
on  Tidd,  Ings,  Davidson,  and  Brunt.  The  mob 
loudly  hissed,  and  there  was  a  deep  groan  from  the 
crowd,  and  shrieks  from  the  women,  when  Thistle- 
wood's  head  was  removed.  When  the  conspirators 
appeared  on  the  scaffold,  the  troops  were  ordered 
as  close  as  possible  to  the  scene  of  execution ;  but 
no  disorder  took  place.  Five  of  the  remaining 
conspirators  were  transported  for  life. 

The  execution  of  Faunderoy,  the  great  banker, 
of  6,  Berners  Street,  took  place  at  Newgate,  in 
1824.  It  was  supposed  that  this  man,  by  forged 
powers  of  attorney,  had  disposed  of  about  ;^40o,ooo 
worth  of  Bank  of  England  stock ;  the  Bank,  how- 
ever, prosecuted  for  only  £1 70,000  worth.  Such 
was  Fauntleroy's  audacity,  that  it  is  said  he  would 
sometimes  forge  the  name  of  a  man  with  whom  he 
was  conversing,  and  then  send  it,  still  wet,  into  the 
clerks'  room,  to  show  that  it  had  just  been  written 
by  his  visitor.  Singularly  enough,  a  tin  box  was 
found  in  his  possession,  with  a  list  of  the  greater 
part  of  his  frauds,  and  this  formal  statement  at  the 
bottom  of  all : — "  In  order  to  keep  up  the  credit  of 
our  house,  I  have  forged  powers  of  attorney  for 
the  above  sums  and  parties,  and  sold  out  to  the 
amount  here  stated,  and  without  the  knowledge  of 
my  partners.  I  kept  up  the  payments  of  the  divi- 
dends, but  made  no  entries  of  such  payments  in 
our  books.  The  Bank  began  first  to  refuse  to  discount 
our  acceptances,  and  destroy  the  credit  of  our  house. 
The.  Bank  shall  sfnart  for  it."  It  was  known  that 
Fauntleroy  was  an  epicure  and  a  voluptuary,  but 
his  hospitality  had  won  many  friends,  and  no  one 
doubted  his  honour.  He  attributed  his  losses  to 
building  speculations.  He  denied  embezzling  one 
shilling.  Sixteen  respectable  witnesses  vouched 
for  his  honour  and  integrity.  The  crowd  at  his 
execution,  on  the  30th  of  November,  was  unpre- 
cedented. Every  window  and  house-roof  near  New- 
gate was  crowded  with  well-dressed  men.  Nothing 
had  been  seen  like  the  mob  since  Thistlewood 
and  his  gang  were  decapitated.  When  the  sheriffs 
entered  the  banker's  cell,  at  a  quarter  before  eight, 
he  lifted  his  eyes  sadly,  bowed,  but  said  nothing. 
The  felon  was  still  a  gentleman.  He  was  dressed 
in  a  black  coat  and  trousers,  with  silk  stockings, 
and  dress  shoes.  He  was  perfectly  calm  and  com- 
posed. The  terrible  procession  formed  quickly. 
Two  friends  gave  him  their  arms,  and  he  followed 
the  sheriffs  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Cotton,  the  ordinary 
of  Newgate.  The  moment  he  appeared  every  hat 
was  taken  off.  Two  minutes  more,  and  his  body 
swayed  in  the  thick  November  air. 
Only  two  other  executions  for  forgery  ever  took 


place  in  England;  and  in  1837  the  capital  punish- 
ment for  that  crime  was  abolished.  The  late  Mr. 
Charles  Dickens  used  to  relate  an  anecdote  of  the 
last  moments  of  Fauntleroy.  His  elegant  dinners 
had  always  been  enriched  by  some  remarkable  and 
matchless  curaQoa.  Three  of  his  boon  companions 
had  a  parting  interview  with  him  in  the  condemned 
cell.  They  were  about  to  retire,  when  the  most 
impressive  of  the  three  stepped  back,  and  said, 
"  Fauntleroy,  you  stand  on  the  verge  of  the  grave. 
Remember  the  text,  my  dear  man,  that  '  we  brought 
nothing  into  this  world,  and  it  is  certain  we  can 
take  nothing  out.'  Have  you  any  objection,  there- 
fore, to  tell  me  now,  as  a  friend,  where  you  got 
that  curagoa?" 

It  was  long  rumoured  in  London,  of  course 
absurdly,  that  Fauntleroy,  by  means  of  his  vast 
wealth  and  acquaintance,  had  bribed  the  hangman 
to  slip  a  silver  tube  down  his  throat,  which  saved 
his  life.  More  resolute  people  declared  he  had 
escaped  to  America,  and  had  actually  been  seen 
in  Paris.  So  legends,  even  in  our  own  days,' 
spring  up  and  take  root. 

The  murder  of  a  poor  Italian  boy,  by  a  body- 
snatcher  named  Bishop,  and  another  scoundrel 
called  Williams,  excited  the  utmost  horror  and 
alarm  in  London,  in  the  year  1831.  Upwards  of 
30,000  persons  assembled  to  witness  their  execu- 
tion, on  the  5th  of  December,  at  Newgate.  These 
men  had  decoyed  the  poor  boy  to  a  hovel  in  Nova 
Scotia  Gardens,  Bethnal  Green,  and  had  then 
drugged  him  with  rum  and  laudanum,  and  drowned 
him  in  a  well.  At  King's  College  they  had  asked 
twelve  guineas  for  the  body,  and  Bishop  owned  to 
having  sold  from  500  to  1,000  bodies,  and  to  two 
other  murders.  The  "  Fortune  of  War"  public-house, 
in  Giltspur  Street,  seems  to  have  been  the  ren- 
dezvous of  these  monsters.  A  great  many  persons 
were  maimed  and  bruised  at  these  executions,  and 
the  moment  the  murderers  were  turned  off,  the 
barriers  between  the  gallows  and  Ludgate  Hill 
were  simultaneously  broken  asunder  and  torn  up 
by  the  crowd. 

In  1837  the  execution  of  James  Greenacre  lent 
an  additional  horror  to  Newgate.  This  man  had 
murdered  Hannah  Bron'tt,  a  woman  to  whom  he 
had  been  engaged  to  be  married,  and  had  then  cut 
the  body  in  pieces,  and  hidden  portions  of  it  in 
various  parts  of  London,  the  trunk  being  placed  in 
a  sack,  and  concealed  behind  some  flagstones,  near 
the  "Pine  Apple"  toll-bar,  Edgware  Road.  He 
confessed  at  last  that  Hannah  Brown  had  deceived 
him,  by  pretending  to  have  property,  and  that  one 
night,  when  she  called  at  his  lodgings,  in  Car- 
penters' Buildings,   Lambeth,  she  laughed  at  her 


4S6 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[Newgate 


trick.  In  a  rage  at  this,  he  struck  her  with  a  silk- 
roller  a  blow  which  proved  mortal,  and  he  then 
formed  the  resolution  of  cutting  up  and  con- 
cealing the  body. 

The  night  of  the  execution  of  this  wretch,  hun- 
dreds of  persons  slept  on  the  steps  of  the  prison 
and  of  St.  Sepulchre's  Church,  and  boys  remained 
all  night  clinging  to  the  lamp-posts.  The  crowds 
in  the  streets  spent  the  night  in  ribald  jokes  and 
drunken  scuffles.  Greenacre,  when  he  passed  to 
the  gallows,  was  totally  unmanned.     He  could  not 


commanding  a  sight  of  the  drop  were  filled  wiih 
spectators,  who  paid  for  places,  at  prices  ranging 
from  five  or  seven  shillings  to  a  couple  of  guineas 
a  head.  In  some  instances  a  first-floor  was  let  for 
jQ\2.  The  visitors  (not  always  of  the  lower  de- 
scription) spent  the  night  playing  at  cards  and 
singing  choruses.  To  one  of  the  exhortations  to  con- 
fession from  those  who  visited  him,  MuUer  turned 
away,  with  the  remark,  "  Man  has  no  power  to  for- 
give sins,  and  there  is  no  use  in  confessing  them 
to  him."    As  he  approached  the  gallows  he  looked 


CATC   STREET.     (From  a   Vu-ia  published  in  1820. ) 


articulate  the  responses  to  the  ordinary,  and  was 
obliged  to  be  supported,  or  he  would  have  fallen. 
His  last  words,  with  a  look  of  contempt  at  the 
yelling  and  hissing  crowd,  were,  "Don't  leave  me 
long  in  the  concom'se." 

Another  of  the  celebrated  executions  at  Newgate 
was  that  of  Franz  MuUer,  a  young  German  tailor, 
in  1864.  This  man,  in  order,  it  is  supposed,  to 
obtain  money  to  get  to  America,  murdered  a  Mr. 
Briggs,  in  a  carriage  on  the  North  London  Railway^ 
between  Bow  station  and  Hackney  Wick.  The 
murdered  man's  hat,  watch,  and  chain  had  been  seen 
in  the  possession  of  the  murderer,  who  had  fled  to 
New  York.  Muller  denied  his  guilt  to'  the  last. 
The  night  before  the  execution  there  was  a  most 
disgraceful  scene  round   Newgate.     The  houses 


up  at  the  chain  with  perfect  self-possession.  The 
final  conversation  with  the  German  minister  of  the 
Lutheran  Church  in  AHe  Street.  Goodman's  Fields, 
was  to  the  following  effect : — 

Dr.  Cappel :  Miiller,  in  a  few  moments  ^ou  will  stand 
before  God.  I  ask  you  again,  and  for  the  last  time,  are  you 
guilty,  or  not  guilty  ? 

MiiUer  :  Not  guilty.'' 

Dr.  Cappel :  You  are  not  guilty  ? 

Muller  :  God  knows  what  I  have  done. 

Dr.  Cappel :  God  knows  what  you  have  done.  Does  He 
also  know  that  you  have  committed  this  crime  ? 

Muller  :  Yes,  I  have  done  it. 

Dr.  Cappel  was  actually  leaning  forward  and 
listening  when  the  drop  fell.  The  Germans  of 
London  had  exerted  themselves  warmly  to  obtain 
a  reprieve  for  Muller,  and  even  the  King  of  Prussia 


Newgate.] 


EXECUTION  OF  COURVOISIER. 


457 


telegraphed  to  the  Queen  to  request  her  interven- 
tion to  save  Miiller's  life. 

The  execution  of  Fran9ois  Benjamin  Courvoisier, 
a  Swiss  valet,  found  guilty  of  the  murder  of  his 
master,  Lord  William  Russell,  took  place  at  Newgate 
in  1840.    Lord  William,  who  was  in  his  seventy- 


down,  saying,  "Some  person  has  been  robbing; 
for  God's  sake  go  and  see  where  his  lordship  is  ! " 
They  went  into  the  room,  and  found  Lord  William 
on  his  bed  murdered,  and  his  head  nearly  severed 
from  his  body.  When  the  policeman  came,  and 
asked  Courvoisier  to  assist  him,  he  fell  back  in  a 


MRS.  BROWNRIGG.     {From  the  Original  Print.) 


third  year,  lived  alone  in  his  house,  in  Norfolk 
Street,  Park  Lane,  his  establishment  consisting  of 
two  women-servants  and  Courvoisier,  a  Swiss  valet. 
On  the  morning  of  the  murder  the  housemaid, 
rising  as  usual,  found  the  papers  in  her  master's 
writing-room  scattered  about,  and  in  the  hall  an 
opera-glass,  a  cloak,  and  some  other  articles  of 
dress  wrapped  up,  as  if  ready  to  be  carried  off. 
She  instantly  went  up-stairs  and  called  Courvoisier, 
who  was  almost  dressed,  and  he  at  once  ran 
87-VoL,  II. 


chair,  and  said,  "  This  is  a  shocking  job.  I  shall 
lose  my  place,  and  lose  my  character."  The  pre- 
mises having  been  searched,  two  bank-notes  for 
;^io  and  ;^5,  supposed  to  have  been  taken  from 
Lord  Russell's  box,  and  several  rings,  were  found 
concealed  behind  the  skirting-board  of  the  butler's 
pantry.  Suspicion  at  once  fell  on  Courvoisier; 
and  on  being  tried  and  found  guilty,  he  confessed 
the  murder.  He  said  that,  disliking  his  place,  he 
stole  some  plate,  and  had  subsequently  resolvec^to 


4S8 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Newgate. 


rob  the  house.  Then  before  midnight  his  master 
found  him  in  the  dining-room,  and  suspected  him 
of  theft.  On  Lord  William's  return  to  his  room,  the 
thought  of  murder  first  entered  Courvoisier's  mind. 
His  character  was  gone,  and  he  said  he  thought  the 
only  way  to  cover  his  fault  was  the  murder  of  his 
master.  He  went  into  the  dining-room,  and  took 
a  carving-knife  from  the  side-board.  He  then  went 
up-stairs  and  opened  his  master's  bed-room  door. 
There  was  a  rushlight  burning,  and  Lord  William 
was  asleep.  Courvoisier  accompHshed  the  murder, 
the  old  man  never  speaking  a  word,  and  only 
moving  his  arm  a  little.  Courvoisier  then  opened 
a  Russia  leather  case,  took  several  things,  and 
also  a  ;^io  note, -which  he  hid  behind  the  skirting- 
board.  After  he  had  committed  this  foul  murder, 
Courvoisier  went  to  bed,  as  usual,  having  first 
made  marks  on  the  outer  door,  as  if  th^re  had 
been  thieves  there.  The  execution  of  Courvoisier 
took  place  on  the  6th  of  July,  1840.  His  constant 
exclamation  in  prison  had  been,  "  O  God !  how 
could-I  have  committed  so  dreadful  a  crime  ?  It 
was  madness.  When  I  think  of  it  I  can't  believe 
it."  He  also  confessed  that  he  had  contemplated 
self-destruction.  Upwards  of  20,000  persons  had 
gathered  to  witness  the  murderer's  end.  Several 
hundreds  had  waited  all  night  at  the  debtors' 
door  of  the  Old  Bailey,  and  high  fees  had  been 
paid  for  windows,  and  even  the  roofs  of  the  houses 
opposite  Newgate  were  crowded.  There  was  a 
sprinkling  of  women  and  boys  in  the  crowd,  and  a 
distinguishable  number  oi  men-servants.  As  the 
bell  began  tp  toll,  at  five  minutes  to  eight  o'clock,  the 
vast  multitude  uncovered,  and  at  two  minutes  after 
the  hour  Courvoisier  ascended  the  steps  leading  to 
the  drop,  followed  by  the  executioner  and  the  ordi- 
nary of  the  prison.  A  few  yells  were  uttered,  but 
the  mass  of  the  spectators  were  silent.  Courvoisier's 
step  was  steady  and  collected,  his  face  pale,  but  calm 
and  unmoved.  When  on  the  drop  he  waved  his 
bound  hands  up"  and  down  two  or  three  times,  and 
this  was  the  only  visible  symptom  of  emotion. 
When  the  noose  was  adjusted,  he  lifted  up  his 
hands  to  his  breast,  as  if  in  fervent  prayer.  He 
died  without  any  violent  struggle,  his  raised  hands 
gradually  sinking.  His  counsel,  Mr.  C.  Phillips, 
was  afterwards  much  blamed  for  trying  to  prove 
the  police  guilty  of  conspiracy,  to  obtain  the  large 
reward,  when,  as  it  was  said,  Courvoisier  had  already 
confessed  to  him  Tiis  guilt ;  but  the  confession  of 
Courvoisier  was  really  of  a  much  later  date. 

There  is  still  an  old  print  extant  (of  which  we 
give  a  copy  on  page  457),  representing  that  cruel  old 
hag,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Brownrigg,  in  the  condemned 
cell  at  Newgate.     This  celebrated  mufderess,  who 


was  nearly  torn  to  pieces  by  the  mob,  on  her  way 
to  Tyburn,  was  a  parish  midwife,  living  in  Flower- 
de-Luce  Court,  Fetter  Lane.  Her  cruelties  to  her 
apprentices  we  have  before  related. 

Of  the  cruelties  of  the  old  press-yard  we  have 
a  terrible  instance,  in  the  case  of  Edward  Burn- 
worth,  in  1726.  This  man,  a  most  daring  highway- 
man and  murderer,  having  refused  to  plead,  was 
loaded  with  boards  and  weights.  He  continued  an 
hour  and  three  minutes,  with  a  mass  of  metal  upon 
him  weighing  three  hundred,  three  quarters,  and 
two  pounds.  He  then  prayed  he  might  be  put  to 
the  bar  again,  which  the  court  granted,  and  he  was , 
arraigned,  and  pleaded  "not  guilty."  He  was,  how- 
ever, found  guilty,  and  received  sentence  of  death. 

There  is  an  interesting  story  of  Mr.  Akerman, 
one  of  the  old  governors  of  Newgate,  with  whom 
Boswell  contracted  a  friendship.  On  one  occasion, 
says  Boswell,  a  fire  broke  out  in  Newgate.  The 
prisoners  were  turbulent  and  in  much  alarm.  Mr. 
Akerman,  addressing  them,  told  them  there  was  no 
fear,  for  the  fire  was  not  in  the  stone  prison ;  and 
that  if  they  would  be  quiet,  he  then  promised  to 
come  in  among  them,  and  lead  them  to  a  further 
end  of  the  building ;  offering,  in  addition,  not  to 
leave  them  till  they  were  reassured,  and  gave  him 
leave.  To  this  generous  proposal  they  agreed.  Mr. 
Akerman  then,  having  first  made  them  fall  back 
from  the  gate,  lest  they  should  be  tempted  to  break 
out,  went  in,  closed  the  gate,  and,  with  the  deter- 
mined resolution  of  an  ancient  Roman,  ordered  the 
outer  turnkey  upon  no  account  to  unbar  the  gate, 
even  though  the  prisoners  should  break  their  word 
(which  he  trusted  they  would  not),  and  by  force 
bring  him  to  order  it.  "  Never  mind  me,"  said  he, 
"  should  that  happen."  The,  prisoners  then  peace- 
ably followed  him  though  passages  of  which  he 
had  the  keys,  to  a  part  of  the  gaol  the  farthest  from 
the  fire.  Having,  "by  this  judicious  conduct,  says 
Boswell,  fully  satisfied  them  that  there  was  no  im- 
mediate risk,  if  any  at  all,  he  then  addressed  them ;  ■ 
"  Gentlemen,  you  are  now  convinced  that  I  told 
you  true.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  engines  will 
soon  extinguish  this  fire.  If  they  should  not,  a 
sufficient  guard  will  come,  and  you  shall  be  all 
taken  out  and  lodged,  in  the  compters.  I  assure 
you,  upon  my  word  and  honour,  that  I  have  not  a 
farthing  insured.  I  have  left  my  house  that  I. 
might  take  care  of  you.  L  will  keep  my  promise,, 
and  stay  with  you,  if  you  insist  upon  it ;  fcut  if  you, 
will  allow  me  to  go  out  and  look  after  my  family  and 
property,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you."  Struck  with 
his  courage,  truthfulness,  and  honourable  sense  of, 
duty,  the  felons  shouted  :  "Master  Akerman,  you^ 
have  done  bravely.     It  was  Very  kind  of  you.    By, 


Kewgate.l 


MRS.    FRY. 


459 


all  means  go  and  take  care  of  your  own  concerns." 
He  did  so  accordingly ;  and  they  remained,  and 
were  all  preserved.  Dr.  Johnson  said  of  this  man, 
whom  Wellington  would  have  esteemed  :  "  Sir,  he 
who  has  long  had  constantly  in  view  the  worst 
of  mankind,  and  is  yet  eminent  for  the  humanity 
of  his  disposition,  must  have  had  it  originally  in 
a  high  degree,  and  continued  to  cultivate  it  very 
carefully." 

Great  good  was  effected  in  Newgate  by  the 
Ladies'  Prison  Visiting  Association,  which  com- 
menced its  labours  among  the  female  prisoners  of 
Newgate  in  1817.  The  Quakers  had  originated 
the  movement,  and  it  soon  produced  its  effects. 
Mrs.  Fry  was  the  indefatigable  leader  of  these 
philanthropists.  The  female  prisoners  in  Newgate, 
before  the  good  work  began,  were  idle,  abandoned, 
riotous,  and  drunken.  There  was  no  attempt  at 
general  inspection;  the  only  distinction  was  be- 
tween the  tried  and  the  untried.  They  slept  pro- 
miscuously in  large  companies.  Frequent  communi- 
cation was  allowed  them,  through  an  iron  grating, 
with  visitors  of  both  sexes,  many  of  them  more 
degraded  and  desperate  than  themselves.  The 
good  effected  was  rapid  and  palpable.  The  worst 
women  became  quiet,  orderly,  and  industrious; 
the  whole  of  them  grew  neater  and  cleaner; 
many  learned  to  read ;  others  sat  for  hours  knitting 
with  the  ladies  who  visited  Newgate.  Two  of  the 
committee,  if  possible,  visited  the  prison  daily,  and 
observed  the  cases  of  the  individual  prisoners. 
The  prisoners'  patchwork,  spinning,  and  knitting 
were  sold  for  them,  and,  if  possible,  part  of  their 
earnings  was  put  by,  to  accumulate  for  their  benefit 
when  they  returned  to  the  outer  world.  Schools 
were  started  for  the  children  and  the  grown-up 
women.  The  governesses  were  chosen  from  the 
most  intelligent,  steady,  and  persevering  of  the 
prisoners.  A  careful  system  of  supervision  was 
also  established.  Over  every  twelve  or  thirteen 
women  a  matron  was  placed,  who  was  answerable 
for  their  work,  and  kept  an  account  of  their  con- 
duct. A  ward  woman  attended  to  the  cleanliness 
of  the  wards.  A  yard  woman  maintained  good 
order  in  the  yard,  and  the  sick  room  was  ruled  by 
a  nurse  and  an  assistant.  These  managers  were  all 
prisoners,  selected  from  their  orderly  and  respect- 
able habits,  and  these  situations  became  the  best 
badge  for  good  conduct.  The  female  prisoners 
assembled  every  day  in  the  committee-room,  to 
hear  the  Bible  read,  or  a  prayer  delivered,  by  the 
matron  or  one  of  the  visitors.  The  women,  on 
being  dismissed,  says  Mr.  J.  J.  Gurney,  returned 
to  their  several  employments,  with  perfect  order  and 
obedience.     The  women  grew  very  honest  among 


themselves.  In  no  less  than  100,000  manufactured 
articles  of  work  not  one  article  was  stolen.  The 
best  proof  of  amelioration  was  the  fact  of  the 
great  decrease  of  re-commitments  between  18 17 
and  1 81 9.  Many  of  the  women  kept  under  super- 
vision by  the  committee  preserved  good  characters 
as  servants,  or  earned  an  honest  livelihood  at 
home.  Several  of  the  women,  on  discharge,  re- 
ceived small  loans,  to  help  them  on,  and  these 
loans  they  repaid  by  most  punctual  weekly  instal- 
ments. At  the  end  of  18 17,  Sir  T.  F.  Buxton 
obtained  a  return  of  the  re-commitments  on  the 
male  side  of  Newgate,  and  it  appeared  that  out  of 
203  men  47  of  those  convicted  had  been  con- 
lined  there  before  within  the  two  previous  years. 
The  returns  on  the  female  side,  since  the  Ladies' 
Association  had  reformed  the  prison,  were  not 
more,  as  compared  with  the  male  side,  than  as 
4  to  47.  It  had  at  one  time  been  as  3  to  5. 
Can  anything  more  be  said  to  prove  what  a  great 
good  women  may  effect,  who  look  upon  female 
prisoners  not  as  brute  beasts,  to  be  punished  and 
despised,  but  as  souls,  to  be  won  back  and  re- 
claimed ?  They  softened  these  women's  hearts,  and 
tenderly  restored  them  to  humanity.  The  object 
of  justice,  in  their  eyes,  was  to  reform,  not  merely 
to  punish.  Hence  the  kind  look  did  more  than 
the  lash — the  soft  word  than  tKe  hard  fetter.  The 
good  work  has,  since  those  days,  been  carried 
further,  and  there  is  still  much  to  do. 

The  first  memorable  escape  from  Newgate  was 
that  of  Jack  Sheppard',  a  thievish  young  London 
carpenter,  in  1724.  This  hero  of  modem  thieves 
(mischievously  immortalised  by  Mr.  Harrison  Ains- 
worth)  had  been  condemned  to  death  with  a  rogue 
named  Blueskin,  for  stealing  cloth  from  a  Mr. 
Kneebone,  a  draper  in  the  Strand,  to  whom  Shep- 
pard  had  formerly  been  apprenticed.  The  whole 
story  of  his  adventures  shows  the  loose  discipline  of 
Newgate  at  the  time.  Considering  the  lad  was  a 
practical  carpenter  and  locksmith,  and  probably 
bribed  the  gaolers  heavily,  we  see  no  great  miracles 
in  his  escapes,  which  only  needed  cleverness,  know- 
ledge of  wood  and  iron  work,  and  steady  per- 
severance. On  the  first  occasion  Jack,  during  an 
interview  with  two  female  friends  in  the  lodge 
at  Newgate,  broke  a  spike  off  the  hatch,  and,  by 
the  assistance  of  the  two  women,  being  slim  and 
flexible,  was  pulled  through  the  opening,  and  so 
escaped.  Retaken  at  Finchley,  the  angry  turnkeys 
gripped  the  young  thief  with  handcuffs,  loaded  him 
with  heavy  irons  (such  as  are  still  fastened  above 
the  side  doors  of  the  prison),  and  chained  him  to 
a  stout  staple  in  the  floor  of  a  strong  room  called 
"The  Castle."    There  people  of  all  ranks  came  to 


460 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Newgate. 


see  him,  and  all  gave  money  to  the  young  lion  of 
the  hour,  but  extreme  care  was  taken  that  no  sym- 
pathisers should  pass  him  a  chisel  or  a  file.  Jack 
was,  however,  eager  for  notoriety,  and  resolute  to 
baffle  the  turnkeys.  He  chose  a  quiet  afternoon, 
when  most  of  the  keepers  were  away  with  their 
amiable  charges  at  the  Old  Bailey  Sessions.  With 
a  small  nail  he  had  found  he  loosened  his  chain 
from  the  floor-staple,  then  slipped  his  small  thievish 
hands  through  his  handcuffs,  and  tied  up  his  fetters 
as  high  as  he  could  with  his  garters.  With  a  piece 
of  his  broken  chain  he  worked  out  of  the  chimney 
a  transverse  iron  bar  that  stopped  his  upward  pro- 
gress. The  keepers  smoked  and  drank,  and  left 
Jack  alone  with  mischief.  Once  on  the  airy  roof, 
Jackj  quick  at  breaking  out  of  prisons,  now  tried 
his  hand  at  breaking  in,  for,  to  force  a  way  to  the 
chapel,  Jack  broke  into  the  Red  Room,  over  the 
Castle,  having  found  a  large  nail,  with  which  he 
could  work  wonders.  The  Red  Room  door  had 
not  been  unbolted  for  seven  long  years.  Jack 
forced  off  the  lock  in  seven  short  minutes,  and  got 
into  a  passage  leading  to  the  chapel.  To  force  a 
strong  bolt  here,  he  broke  a  hole  through  the  wall, 
and,  with  an  iron  spike  from  the  chapel  door, 
opened  a  way  between  the  chapel  and  the  lower 
leads.  Three  more  doors  flew  open  before  him ; 
over  a  wall,  and  he  was  on  the  upper  leads.  At 
this  crisis,  requiring  a  blanket,  to  tear  up  and 
make  a  rope  for  his  descent,  he  had  the  courage 
to  go  back  for  it,  all  the  way  to  his  cell,  and  then, 
making  a  tough  rope,  he  fastened  it  with  the  chapel 
spike,  and  let  himself  down  on  the  leads  of  a 
turner,  who  lived  adjoining  the  prison.  SHpping 
in  at  a  garret  window,  he  stole  softly  down-stairs, 
and  let  himself  out  (a  woman  who  heard  his  irons 
clink  thought  it  was  the  cat).  Passing  the  watch- 
house  of  St.  Sepulchre,  he  went  up  Gray's  Inn 
Lane,  and  hid  himself  in  a  cow-house,  near  Totten- 
ham Court.  The  next  day  he  bribed  a  shoemaker 
to  procure  him  a  smith's  hammer  and  a  punch,  and 
rid  himself  of  his  irons,  the  last  souvenirs  of  New- 
gate. A  few  nights  after,  this  incorrigible  scamp 
broke  into  a  pawnbroker's  shop  in  Drury  Lane, 
stole  a  sword  arid  some  coats,  snuff'-boxes,  rings, 
and  watches,  and^rigged  himself  out  in  black,  with 
ruffled  shirt,  diamond  ring,  silver-hiked  sword,  gold 
watch,  and  other  suitable  garnishings.  Two  nights_ 
afterwards,  getting  drunk  with  his  mother  near  his' 
old  haunts,  the  young  thief  was  seized  and  thrown 
again  into  Newgate,  no  more  to  escape.  Sir  James 
Thornhill  painted  his  portrait  in  prison,  and,  after 
an  unsuccessful  plot  to  rescue  him  at  Turnstile, 
he  was  hung  at  Tyburn.  An  opera  and  a  farce 
were  founded  upon  his  adventures,  and  a  preacher 


in  the  City  is  said  to  have  thus  spiritualised  his 
career : — 

"Now,  my  beloved,  what  a  melancholy  con- 
sideration it  is,  that  men  should  show  so  much 
regard  for  the  preservation  of  a  poor,  perishing 
body,  that  can  remain  at  most  but  a  few  years,  and 
at  the  same  time  be  so  unaccountably  negligent  of  a 
precious  soul,  which  must  continue  to  the  ages  of 
eternity !  Oh,  what  care,  what  pains,  what  dili- 
gence, and  what  contrivances  are  made  use  of  for, 
and  laid  out  upon,  these  frail  and  tottering  taber- 
nacles of  clay,  when,  alas  !  the  nobler  part  of  us  is 
allowed  so  very  small  a  share  of  our  concern,  that 
we  scarce  will  give  ourselves  the  trouble  of  be- 
stowing a  thought  upon  it. 

"We  have  a  remarkable  instance  of  this  in  a 
notorious  malefactor,  well  known  by  the  name  of 
Jack  Sheppard.  What  amazing  difficulties  has  he 
overcome !  what  astonishing  things  has  he  per- 
formed, for  the  sake  of  a  stinking,  miserable  car- 
case, hardly  worth  hanging !  How  dexterously  did 
he  pick  the  padlock  of  his  chain  with  a  crooked 
nail !  How  manfully  burst  his  fetters  asunder, 
climb  up  the  chimney,  wrench  out  an  iron  bar, 
break  his  way  through  a  stone  wall,  and  make  the 
strong  door  of  a  dark  entry  fly  before  him,  till  he 
got  upon  the  leads  of  the  prison  !  And  then,  fixing 
a  blanket  to  the  wall  with  a  spike,  how  intrepidly 
did  he  descend  to  the  top  of  the  turner's  house,  and 
how  cautiously  pass  down  the  stairs,  and  make  his 
escape  at  the  street-door  ! 

"  Oh,  that  ye  were  all  like  Jack  Sheppard !  Mis- 
take me  not,  my  brethren;  I  don't  mean  in  a  carnal, 
but  a  spiritual  sense ;  for  I  purpose  to  spirituaUse 
these  things.  What  a  shame  it  would  be,  if  we 
should  not  think  it  worth  our  while  to  take  as 
much  painSj  and  .employ  as  many  deep  thoughts, 
to  save  our  souls,  as  he  has  done  to  preserve  his 
body  !  Let  me  exhort  you,  then,  to  open  the  locks 
of  your  hearts  with  the  nail  of  repentance ;  burst 
asunder  the  fetters  of  your  beloved  lusts ;  mount 
the  chimney  of  hope,  take  from  thence  the  bar  of 
good  resolution ;  break  through  the  stone  wall  of 
despair,  and  all  the  strongholds  in  the  dark  entry  of 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death ;  raise  yourselves 
to  the  leads  of  divine  meditation ;  fix  the  blanket  of 
faith  with  the  spike  of  the  Church ;  let  yourselves 
down  to  the  turner's  house  of  resignation,  and 
descend  the  stairs  of  humility.  So  shall  you  come 
to  the  door  of  deliverance  from  the  prison  ot 
iniquity,  and  escape  the  clutches  of  that  old  execu- 
tioner, the  devil,  who  '  goeth  about  like  a  roaring 
lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour.' " 

The  condition  of  things  in  ancient  Newgate  was 
deplorable.    When  the  contagious  fever  broke  out> 


The  Old  Bailey.] 


FAULTS  OF 'THE  NEWGATE  SYSTEM. 


461 


there  were  no  le-ss  than  800  prisoners  crowded 
within  the  walls.  It  was  not  till  1810  that,  through 
the  exertions  of  Sir  Richard  Phillips,  a  Committee 
of  the  Common  Council  passed  a  resolution  for 
building  a  new  prison  for  debtors,  and  in  1815  the 
debtors  were  transferred  from  Newgate  to  the  Gilt- 
spur  Street  Compter.  In  a  Parliamentary  Report  of 
1814,  the  following  statement  appeared  of  the  way 
in  which  the  chaplain's  duties  were  performed : — 
"  Beyond  his  attendance  at  chapel,  and  on  those 
who  are  sentenced  to  death  Dr.  Ford  feels  but  few 
duties  to  be  attached  to  his  office.  He  knows 
nothing  of  the  state  of  moVals  in  the  prison; 
he  never  sees  any  of  the  prisoners  in  private. 
Though  fourteen  boys  and  girls  from  nine  to  thirteen 
years  old  were  in  Newgate  in  April  last,  he  does 
not  consider  attention  to  them  a  point  of  his  duty. 
He  never  knows  that  any  have  been  sick  till  he 
gets  a  warning  to  attend  their  funeral ;  and  does 
not  go^to  the  infirmary,  for  it  is  not  in  his  in- 
structions." The  prisoners  were  allowed  to  drink 
and  gamble,  and  their  amusement  was..the  repeating 
stories  of  past  villany  and  debauchery.  "I  scruple 
not  to  affirm,"  says  Howard,  "that  half  the  rob- 
beries committed  in  and  around  London  are 
planned  in  the'prisows  by  that  dreadful  assemblage 
of  criminals,  and  the  number  of  idle  people  who 
visit  them."  Those  who  refused  to  associate  with 
the  criminals  were  submitted  to  mock  trial,  in 
which  the  oldest  thief  acted  as  judge,  with  a  towel, 
tied  in  knots  on  each  side  of  his  head,  for  a  wig ; 
and  he  had  officers  to  put  his  sentences  into  execu- 
tion. "Garnish,"  "footing,"  or  "chummage," 
was  demanded  of  all  new  prisoners.  "Pay,  or 
strip,"  was  the  order;  and  the  prisoner  without 


money  had  to  part  with  some  of  his  clothes,  to 
contribute  towards  the  expense  of  a  revel,  the  older 
prisoners  adding  something  to  the  "garnish"  paid 
by  the  new  comer.  The  practice  of  the  prisoners 
cooking  their  own  food  had  not  been  long  discon- 
tinued in  1818. 

Even  in  1836  the  Inspector  of  Prisons  found 
fault  with  the  system  within  the  prison.  The  pri- 
soners were  allowed  to  amuse  themselves  with 
gambling,  card-playing,  and  draughts ;  sometimes 
they  obtained,  by  stealth,  says  a  writer  in  Knight's 
"  London,"  the  luxury  of  tobacco,  and  a  newspaper. 
Sometimes  they  could  get  drunk.  Instruments  to 
facilitate  prison-breaking  were  found  in  the  prison. 
Combs  and  toivels  were  not  provided,  and  the 
supply  of  soap  was  insufficient.  In  their  Report 
of  1843,  the  inspectors  say,  "  It  has  been  our  painful 
duty,  again  and  again,  to  point  attention  to  the 
serious  evils  resulting  from  gaol  association,  and 
consequent  necessary  contamination  in  this  prison. 
The  importance  of  this  prison,  in  this  point  of  view, 
is  very  great.  As  the  great  metropolitan  prison  for 
the  untried,  it  is  here  that  those  most  skilled  in 
crime  of  every  form,  those  whom  the  temptations, 
the  excesses,  and  the  experience  of  this  great  city 
have  led  through  a  course  of  crime  to  the  highest 
skill  in  tlie  arts  of  depredation,  and  the  lowest 
degradation  of  infamy,  itfeet  together  with  thbse 
who  are  new  to  such  courses,  and  who  are  only 
too  ready  to  learn  how  they  may  pursue  the  career 
they  have  just  entered  upon  with  most  security 
from  detection  and  punishment,  and  with  greater 
success  and  indulgence.  The  numbers  committed 
(nearly  4,000  per  annum),  which  are  still  increasing, 
render  this  a  subject  of  still  greater  moment." 


CHAPTER   LIV. 
THE     OLD     BAILEY. 

Origin  of  the  Name-The  Old  Sessions  House-Constitution  of  the  Court  in  Strypsfc  time-The  Modern  Central  Criminal  Co»rt-Number  of 
Persons  tried  here  annually-Old  Bailey  Holidays-Speedy  Justice-A  Thief's  Defence-The  Intenor  of  the  Old  Court-Celebrated 
Criminals  tried  here-Trial  of  the  Regicides-Trial  of  Lord  William  Russell-The  Press-yard-The  Black  Sessions  of  i75o--Spr>gs  of  Rue 
in  Court-Old  Bailey  Dinners-The  Gallows  in  the  Old  Bailey-The  Cart  and  the  New  Drop-Execution  Statistics-Execution  Customs- 
Memorable  ExecutLs-A  Dreadful  Catastrophe-The  Pillory  in  the  Old  Bailey-The  Surgeons'  Hall-A  Fatal  Experiment-The 
Dissection  of  Lord  Ferrers-Goldsmith  as  a  Rejected  Candidate-Famous  InhaUtants-The  Little  Old  Bailey-Sydney  House-Green 
Arbour  Court  and  Breakneck  Steps-Goldsmith's  Garret-A  Region  of  Washerwomen-Percy  s  Visit  to  Goldsmith. 


There  is  some  dispute  as  to  the  origin  of  the 
name  "Old  Bailey,"  for  while  some  think  it  implies 
the  Ballium,  or  outer  space  beyond  the  wall,  Mait- 
land  refers  it  to  Bail  Hill,  an  eminence  where  the 
bail,  or  baiUff,  lived  and  held  his  court.  Stow 
thinks  the  street  was  called  from  some  old  court 
held  there,  as,  in  the  year  1356,  the  tenement  and 


ground  upon  Houndsditch,  between  Ludgate  on 
the  south  and  Newgate  on  the  north,  was  appointed 
to  John  Cambridge,  fishmonger  and  Chamberiain 
of  London,  "whereby,"  he  says,  "it  seems  that  the 
Chamberlains  of  London  have  there  kept  their 
courts  as  now  they  do  by  the  Guildhall;  and  to 
this  day  the  mayor  and  justi-ces  of  this  City  kept 


462 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[The  Old  Bailey. 


their  sessions  in  a  part  thereof  now  called  the 
Sessions  Hall,  both  for  the  City  of  London  and 
Shire  of  Middlesex." 

Strype  describes  the  Old  Sessions  House  as  a 
fair  and  stately  building,  very  commodious,  and 
with  large  galleries  on  both  sides  for  spectators, 
"the  court-room,"  he  remarks,  "being  advanced 
by  stone   steps  from  the  ground,  with  rails  and 


destroyed  in  the  "No  Popery"  Riots  of  1780,  but 
was  rebuilt  and  enlarged  in  1809  by  the  addition 
of  the  site  of  the  old  Surgeons'  Hall. 

The  old  constitution  of  this  court  for  malefactors 
is  given  by  "R.  B.,"  in  Strype  (v.  384).  "It,"  he 
says,  "  is  called  the  King's  Commission  on  the 
Peace  of  Oyer  and  Terminer,  and  Gaol  Delivery 
of  Newgate,  for  the  City  of  London  and  County 


THE   CHAPEL  IN   NEWGATE. 


banisters,  enclosed  from  the  yard  before  it;  and 
the  bail-dock,  which  fronts  the  court  where  the  pri- 
soners are  kept  until  brought  to  their  trials,  is  also 
inclosed.  Over  the  court-room  is  a  stately  dining- 
room,  sustained  by  ten  stone  pillars,  and  over  it  a 
platform,  headed  with  rails  and  banisters.  There 
be  five  lodging-rooms,  and  other  conveniences,  on 
either  side  the  court.  It  standeth  backwards,  so  it 
hath  no  front  toward  the  street ;  only  the  gateway 
leadeth  into  the  yard  before  the  house,  which  is 
spacious.  It  cost  above  ^^6,000  the  building." 
A  Ceurt-house  was  erected  here  in  1773.     ^^  ^^^^ 


of  Middlesex,  which  court  is  held  at  Justice  Hall, 
in  the  Old  Bailey,  commonly  called  the  Sessions 
House,  and  generally  eight  times,  or  oftener,  every 
year.  The  judges  are  the  Lord  Mayor,  the  Recorder, 
and  others  of  his  Majesty's  Justices  of  the  Peace  of 
the  City  of  London,  the  two  Sheriffs  of  London  being 
always  present ;  and  oftentimes  the  judges  (being 
always  in  these  commissions)  come,  and  sit  to  give 
their  assistance.  The  jurors,  for  all  matters  com- 
mitted in  London,  are  citizens  of  London, .  .  .  and 
the  jurors  for  crimes  and  misdemeanors  committed 
in  Middlesex,  are  freeholders  of  the  said  county." 


JACK    SHEPPARD'S   ESCAPES. 
I.  Handcuffs  and  Feetlocks,  and  Padlock  to   Ground.  z.  Cell  over  the  Castle,  Jack  Sheppard  fastened  to  the  floor.    Climbing  up  the 

Chimney,  where  he  found  a  bar  of  iron.  3.  Red  Room  over  the  Castle,  into  which  Tie  got  out  of  the  Chimney.  4.  Doorj  of  the 

Red   Room,    the   lock  of  which  he   put  back.  5.  Door  of  the  Entry  between  the  Red   Room  and  the  Chapel.  6.  Door 

going  into  the  Chapel,  which  he  burst  open.  7.  Door  going  out  of  the  Chapel  towards  the  Leads.  8.  Door  with  a  SpringXook, 

which  he  opened.  9.  Door  over  the  same  Passage.  10.  The  Lower  Leads.  11.  The  Higher  Leads,  the  walls  of  which  he 

got  over,  and  descended  by  the  staircase  off  the  roof  of  a  turner's  house  into  the  street. 


464 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Old  Bailey. 


Uncier  the  general  title,  "  The  Central  Criminal 
Court,"  are  joined  both  what  are  called  the  Old 
Court  and  the  New.  The  former  deals  with  the 
more  weighty  cases — those  of  deepest  dye — and  has 
echoed,  without  doubt,  to  more  tales  of  the  romance 
of  crime  than  any  other  building  in  the  kingdom. 

"  The  judges  of  the  Central  Criminal  Court," 
says  Mr.  Timbs  (1868),  "are  the  Lord  Mayor  (who 
opens  the  court),  the  Sheriffs,  the  Lord  Chancellor 
(such  is  the  order  of  the  Act),  the  Judges,  the 
Aldermen,  Recorder,  Common  Serjeant  of  London, 
Judge  of  the  Sheriff's  Court,  or  City  Commissioner, 
and  any  others  whom  the  Crown  may  appoint  as 
assistants.  Of  these  the  Recorder  and  Common 
Serjeant  are  in  reality  the  presiding  judges ;  a  judge 
of  the  law  only  assisting  when  unusual  points  of 
the  law  are  involved^  or  when  conviction  affects  the 
life  of  the  prisoner.  Here  are  tried  crimes  of  every 
kind,  from  treason  to  the  pettiest  larceny,  and  even 
offences  committed  on  the  high  seas.  The  juris- 
diction comprises  the  whole  of  the  metropohs  as 
now  defined ;  with  the  remainder  of  Middlesex  ; 
the  parishes  of  Richmond  and  Mortlake,  in  Surrey ; 
and  great  part  of  Essex." 

The  court  is  regulated  by  Act  of  Parliament 
4  and  5  Will.  IV.,  c.  36. 

As  to  the  number  of  persons  who  are  brought 
here  into  public  notice,  Mr.  Sheriff  Laurie,  writing 
to  the  Times  of  November  28th,  1845,  says,  "  I 
find  upon  investigation  that  upwards  of  two  thou- 
sand persons  annually  are  placed  at  the  bar  of  the 
Old  Bailey  for  trial.  Aboutone-third  are  acquitted, 
one-third  are  first  offences,  and  the  remaining  por- 
tion have  been  convicted  of  felony  before." 

Trials  are  going  on  at  the  Old  Bailey  almost  all 
the  year  round.  Frequent,  however,  as  they  are, 
there  are  occasional  pauses.  Justice,  it  has  been 
said,  must  nod  sometimes,  and  therefore  it  is  as 
well  to  provide  for  fitting  repose  elsewhere  than  on 
the  judgment-seat.  .The  sittings  of  the  Central 
Criminal  Court  are  held  monthly,  but  as  the  whole 
of  the  month  is  not  occupied  in  the  trial  of  the 
prisoners  on  the  calendar,  the  spare  time  forms 
a  vacation,  and  such  are  the  only  vacations  at 
the  Old  Bailey.  In  consequence  of  these  frequent 
sittings,  trials  are  often  conducted  and  prisoners 
rewarded  according  to  their  merits,  with  sur- 
prising swiftness.  A  criminal  may  be  guilty  of 
theft  in  the  morning,  be  apprehended  before  night, 
be  committed  by  a  magistrate  the  next  day,  and 
the  day  after  that  be  tried,  convicted,  and  sen- 
tenced at  the  Old  Bailey— a  speedy  administration 
of  justice,  which  must  be  highly  gratifying  to  all 
concerned. 

"  The  usual  defence  of  a  thief,  especially  at  the 


Old  Bailey,",  says  Fielding,  writing  of  the  increase 
of  robbers,  "  is  an  alibi.  To  prove  this  by  perjury 
is  a  common  act  of  Newgate  friendship  ;  and  there 
seldom  is  any  difficulty  in  procuring  such  witnesses. 
I  remember  a  felon,  within  this  twelvemonth,  to 
have  been  proved  to-  be  in  Ireland  at  the  time 
when  the  robbery  was  sworn  to  have  been  done 
in  London,  and  acquitted ;  but  he  was  scarce 
gone  from  the  bar,  when  the  witness  was  himself 
arrested  for  a  robbery  committed  in  London,  at 
that  very  time  when  he  swore  both  he  and  his 
friend  were  in  Dublin  ;  for  which  robbery  I  think 
he  was  tried  and  executed." 

The  interior  of  the  Old  Court,  which,  naturally 
enough,  from  every  point  of  view  is  more  interest- 
ing than  that  of  the  New  one,  has  been  described 
in  a  lively  manner  by  a  writer  in  Knight's  "  Cyclo- 
paedia of  London"  (1851).  "Passing,"  he  says, 
"through  a  door  in  the  wall  which  encloses  the 
area  between  Newgate  and  the  courts,  we  find  a 
flight  of  steps  on  our  right,  leading  up  into  the 
Old  Court.  This  is  used  chiefly  for  prosecutors  and 
witnesses.  Farther  on  in  the  area,  another  flight 
of  steps  leads  to  a  long  passage  into  a  corridor  at 
the  back  of  the  court,  with  two  doors  opening  into 
the  latter,  by  one  of  which  the  judges  and  sheriffs 
reach  the  bench,  and  by  the  other,  the  barristers 
their  place  in  the"  centre  at  the  bottom.  Both 
doors  also  lead  to  seats  reserved  for  visitors.  We 
enter,  pause,  and  look  round.  The  first  sentiment 
is  one  of  disappointment.  The  great  and  moral 
power  and  pre-eminence  of  the  court  makes  one, 
however  idly  and  vmconsciously,  anticipate  a 
grander  physical  exhibition.  What  does  meet  our 
gaze  is  no  more  than  a  square  hall  of  sufficient 
length,  and  breadth,  and  height,  lighted  up  by  three 
large  square  windows  on  the  opposite  wall,  showing 
the  top  of  the  gloomy  walls  of  Newgate,  having  on 
the  left  a  gallery  close  to  the  ceiling,  with  projecting 
boxes,  and  on  the  right,  the  bench,'  extending  the 
whole  length  of  the  wall,  with  desks  at  intervals 
for  the  use  of  the  judges,  whilst  in  the  body  of  the 
court  are,  first,  a  dock  for  the  prisoners  below  the 
gallery,  with  stairs  descending  to  the  covered  pas- 
sage by  which  prisoners  are  conveyed  to  and  from 
the  prison ;  then,  just  in  advance  of  the  left-hand 
corner  of  the  dock,  the  circular  witness-box,  and 
in  a  similarly  relative  position  to  the  witness-box, 
the  jury-box,  below  the  windows  of  the  court,  an 
arrangement  that  enables  the  jury  to  see  clearly  and 
without  turning,  the  faces  of  the  witnesses  and  of 
the  prisoners ;  that  enables  the  vidtness  to  identify 
the  prisoner ;  and  lastly,  that  enables  the  judges 
on  the  bench,  and  the  counsel  in  the  centre  of  the 
court  below,  to  keep  jury,  witnesses,  and  prisoners 


The  Old  Bailey.] 


CELEBRATED   CRIMINALS. 


465 


all  at  once  within  the  same,  or  nearly  the  same,  line 
of  view.  We  need  only  add  to  these  features  of 
the  place  the  formidable  row  of  law-books  which 
occupies  the  centre  of  the  green -baized  table, 
around  which  are  the  counsel,  reminding  us  of  the 
passage  in  the  '  Beggars'  Opera ' — 

'  The  charge  is  prepared,  the  lawyers  are  met, 
The  judges  all  ranged,  a  terrible  show  ;' 

the  double  line  of  reporters  occupying  the  two 
seats  below  us ;  the  sheriff  in  attendance  for  the 
day,  looking  so  spruce  in  his  court  suit,  stepping 
noiselessly  in  and  out ;  and  lastly  the  goodly  per- 
sonage in  the  blue  and  furred  robes  and  gold  chain, 
who  sits  in  the  centre  on  the  chief  seat,  with  the 
gilded  sword  of  justice  suspended  over  his  head 
against  the  crimson -lined  wall.  Some  abstruse 
document,  apparently,  just  now  engages  his  atten- 
tion, for  he  appears  utterly  absorbed  in  it,  bending 
over  his  desk.  '  It  must  surely  be  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor come  to  try  some  great  case,'  thinks  many 
an  innocent  spectator ;  but  he  rises,  and  we  per- 
ceive it  is  only  an  ex-mayor  reading  the  newspaper 
of  the  day.  But  we  forgot :  Hazlitt  said  that  a  City 
apprentice  who  did  not  esteem  the  Lord  Mayor 
the  greatest  man  in  the  world,  would  come  some 
day  to  be  hanged ;  and  here  everybody  apparently 
is  of  the  same  opinion.  '  Who,  then,  is  the  judge  ?' 
one  naturally  asks ;  when,  looking  more  attentively, 
we  perceive  for  the  first  time,  beyond  the  repre- 
sentative of  civic  majesty,  which  thus  asserts  its 
rights,  some  one  writing,  taking  frequent  but  brief 
glances  at  the  prisoners  or  the  witnesses,  but  never 
turning  his  head  in  any  other  direction,  speaking  to 
no  one  on  the  bench,  unspoken  to.  That  is  a  judge 
of  the  land,  quietly  doing  the  whole  business  of  the 
court."  The  court  formerly  sat  at  the  early  hour 
of  7  a.m. 

In  1841,  both  the  Old  Court  and  the  New  Court 
were  ventilated,  upon  Dr.  Reid's  plan,  from  cham- 
bers beneath  the  floors,  filled  with  air  filtered  from 
an  apartment  outside  the  building,  the  air  being 
drawn  into  them  by  an  enormous  discharge  upon 
the  highest  part  of  the  edifice,  or  propelled  into 
them  by  a  fanner.  From  the  entire  building  the 
vitiated  air  is  received  in  a  large  chamber  in  the 
roof  of  the  Old  Court,  whence  it  is  discharged  by  a 
gigantic  iron  cowl,  fifteen  feet  in  diameter,  weigh- 
ing two  tons,  and  the  point  of  the  arrow  of  the 
guiding  vane  weighing  150  pounds.  The  subter- 
rannean  air-tunnels  pass  through  a  portion  of  the 
old  City  wall. 

It  was  at  the  Old  Bailey,  in  1727,  that  Richard 
Savage,  the  dissolute  poet,  for  whom  Dr.  Johnson 
seems  to  have  felt  an  affection,  was  tried.     The 


poet  was  out,  one  night,  drinking  and  rioting  with 
two  gentlemen  named  Merchant  and  Gregory,  when 
they  agreed  to  turn  in  at  "  Robinson's''  Coffee 
House,  near  Charing  Cross.  Merchant,  demanding 
a  room  in  a  bullying  way,  was  told  there  was  a  fire 
ready-made  in  the  next  partition,  where  the  com- 
pany were  about  to  leave.  The  three  men  at  once 
rushed  in,  and  placed  themselves  between  the  fire 
and  the  persons  who  were  there,  and  kicked  down 
a  table.  A  fight  ensued,  and  Savage  ran  a  Mr. 
James  Sinclair  through  the  body.  He  also  wounded 
a  servant-girl  who  tried  to  hold  him,  and  broke  his 
way  out  of  the  house.  He  was  taken,  however,  in 
a  back  court,  where  some  soldiers  had  come  to  his 
assistance.  The  next  morning  the  three  revellers 
were  carried  before  the  justices,  who  sent  them 
to  the  Gate  House,  and  on  the  death  of  Mr.  Sin- 
clair they  were  removed  to  Newgate.  They  were 
not,  however,  chained,  and  were  placed  apart  from 
the  vulgar  herd  in  the  press-yard.  It  was  proved 
that  the  fatal  stab  was  given  by  Savage,  and  he  was 
consequently  found  guilty  of  murder.  It  is  said 
that  his  supposed  mother,  the  Countess  of  Mac- 
clesfield, did  all  she  could  to  bring  Savage  to  the 
gallows ;  but  the  Countess  of  Hertford,  Lord 
Tyrconnel,  and  Mrs.  Oldfield,  the  actress,  ob- 
tained for  him  at  last  the  king's  pardon. 

Among  other  celebrated  criminals  who  have 
been  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey  and  Central  Criminal 
Courts,  may  be  briefly  mentioned  the  following  : — 
Major  Strangways,  the  assassin,  in  1659;  Colonel 
Turner  and  his  family,  for  burglary  in  Lime  Street, 
1663 ;  Green,  Berry,  and  Hill,  for  the  murder  of 
Sir  Edmundbury  Godfrey,  1678;  Count  Konings- 
mark  and  three  others  for  the  assassination  of  Mr. 
Thynne,  1681 ;  Rowland  Walters  and  others,  for 
the  murder  of  Sir  Charles  Pym,  Bart.,  1688  j  Har- 
rison, for  the  murder  of  Dr.  Clenche,  1692 ;  Beau 
Fielding,  for  bigamy,  1706;  Richard  Thornhill, 
Esq.,  for  killing  Sir  Cholmeley  Deering  in  a  duel, 
1 711;  the  Marquis  di  Paleotti,  for  the  murder  of 
his  servant  in  Lisle  Street,  17 18;  Major  Oneby, 
for  killing  in  a  duel,  17 18  and  1726;  Jonathan 
Wild,  the  thief-taker,  1725;  the  infamous  Colonel 
Charteris,  1730  j  Elizabeth  Canning,  an  inexplic- 
able mystery,  1753  j  Baretti,  for  stabbing,  1769; 
the  two  Perraus,  for  forgery,  1776;  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Hackman,  for  shooting  Miss  Reay,  1779; 
Ryland,  the  engraver,  for  forgery,  1783;  Bar- 
rington,  the  pickpocket,  1790;  Renwick  Williams, 
for  stabbing,  1790;  Theodore  Gardelle,  for  murder, 
1790;  Hadfield,  for  shooting  at  George  III.,  1800; 
Captain  Macnamara,  for  killing  Colonel  Mont- 
gomery in  a  duel,  1803  ;  Aslett,  the  Bank  clerk,  for 
forgery  on  the  Bank  to  the  extent  of  ^^320,000, 


466 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


TThe  OU  Bailey. 


1803  J  Holloway  and  Haggerty,  for  murder,  1807; 
Bellingham,  the  assassin  of  Mr.  Spencer  Percival, 
181 2;  Cashman,  the  sailor,  for  riot  on  Snow  Hill 
(where  he  was  hanged),  1817;  Richard  Carlile,  for 
blasphemy,  181 9  and  1831 ;  St.  John  Long,  the 
counter-irritation  surgeon,  for  manslaughter,  1830 
and  1 831;  Bishop  and  Williams,  for  murder  by 
"burking,"  1831;  Greenacre,  for  murder,  1837  ;  G. 
Oxford,  for  shooting  at  the  Queen,  1840 ;  Blakesley, 
for  murder  in  Eastcheap,  1841 ;  Beaumont  Smith, 
for  forgery  of  Exchequer  bills,  1841 ;  J.  Francis,  for 
an  attempt  to  shoot  the  Queen,  1842;  McNaughten, 
who  shot  Mr.  Drummond  in  mistake  for  Sir  R. 
Peel,  1843 ;  Dalmas,  for  murder  on  Battersea 
Bridge,  1844;  Barber,  Fletcher,  &c.,  for  will-for- 
geries, 1844;  Manning  and  his  wife,  for  murder, 
1849;  Palmer,  the  Rugeley  poisoner,  whose  trial 
lasted  a  fortnight,  1856;  and  seven  pirates,  con- 
victed of  murder  on  the  high  seas,  within  the  juris- 
diction of  the  Admiralty  of  England,  1864. 

But  besides  those  criminals,  outcasts  of  society, 
and  notorious  for  their  evil  deeds,  the  Old  Bailey 
has  disposed  of  another  class,  distinguished  by 
their  noble  and  elevated  principles,  and  famed  for 
their  patriotism.  Here  were  tried,  in  1660,  imme- 
diately after  the  Restoration,  those  of  the  judges 
of  Charles  I.  who  were  still  alive,  and,  relying  on 
the  promised  bill  of  indemnity,  had  remained  in 
England ;  and  twenty-three  years  later,  in  the  same 
reign,  a  nobleman  whose  name  has  become  a 
household  word — in  connection  with  his  illustrious 
friend,  Sidney — Lord  WiUiam  Russell. 

The  trial  of  the  regicides  commenced  on  the 
9th  of  October,  1660,  before  a  court  of  thirty-four 
commissioners,  of  whom  some  were  old  royalists  ; 
others,  such  as  Manchester,  Say,  Annesley,  and 
Hollis,  had  been  all  members  of  the  Long  Par- 
liament ;  and  with  these  sat  Monk,  Montague,  and 
Cooper,  the  associates  of  Cromwell,  who,  one 
would  think,  from  motives  of  delicacy,  would  have 
withheld  from  the  tribunal.  The  prisoners  were 
twenty-nine  in  number,  and  included  Sir  Hardress 
AValler,  Major-General  Harrison,  Colonel  Carew, 
Cook,  Hugh  Peters,  Scott,  Harry  Marten,  and 
Scroop,  among  other  scarcely  less  noticeable  names. 
Waller  was  first  called  ;  he  pleaded  guilty,  and  thus 
escaped  the  scaffold.  Harrison's  turn  came  next. 
Animated  by  a  fervid  spirit  of  enthusiasm,  perfectly 
free  from  all  alloy  of  worldly  motives,  he  spoke 
boldly  in  his  defence.  "  Maybe  I  might  be  a 
little  mistaken,"  said  he,  "  but  I  did  it  all  according 
to  the  best  of  my  understanding,  desiring  to  make 
the  revealed  will  of  God  in  His  Holy  Scriptures  as 
a  guide  to  me.  I  humbly  conceive  that  what  was 
done  was  done  in  the  name  of  the  Parliament  of 


England — that  what  was  done  was  done  by  their 
power  and  authority ;  and  I  do  humbly  conceive  it 
is  my  duty  to  offer  unto  you  in  the  beginning,  that 
this  court,  or  any  court  below  the  High  Court  of 
Parliament,  hath  no  jurisdiction  of  their  actions." 
His  boldness  could  not  save  him ;  he  was  sen- 
tenced to  death,  and  retired  saying  he  had  no 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  the  cause  in  which  he 
had  been  engaged.  Colonel  Carew's  frame  of 
mind  was  in  tune  with  that  of  Harrison,  and  he 
also  was  condemned  to  death.  Harry  Marten 
began  a  most  ingenious  and  persevering  defence  by 
taking  exception  to  the  indictment.  He  declared 
he  was  not  even  mentioned  in  it !  It  certainly 
included  a  name,  Henry  Marten,  but  that  was  not 
his — ^his  was  Harry  Marten.  This  was  overruled, 
and  the  trial  proceeded.  The  Solicitor-General 
having  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  see  in  you  so  litde 
repentance,"  Marte^  replied,  "  My  lord,  if  it  were 
possible  for  that  blood  to  be  in  the  body  again,  and 
every  drop  that  was  shed  in  the  late  wars,  I  could 
wish  it  with  all  my  heart ;  but,  my  lord,  I  hope  it 
is  lawful  to  offer  in  my  defence  that  which,  when  I 
did  it,  I  thought  I  might  do.  My  lord,  there  was 
a  House  of  Commons  as  I  understood  it :  perhaps 
your  lordship  thinks  it  was  not  a  House  of  Com- 
mons, but  it  was  then  the  supreme  authority  of 
England;  it  was  so  reputed  both  at  home  and 
abroad."  He  then  went  on  to  plead  that  the 
statute  of  Henry  VIII.  exempted  from  high  treason 
any  one  acting  under  a  king  de  facto,  though  he 
should  not  be  a  king  de  jure.  No  arguments 
would  move  the  Old  Bailey  judge  and  jury  of  that 
day.  Marten  also  was  condemned.  As  for  the 
other  prisoners,  all  of  them  were  found  guilty,  but 
those  who  had  surrendered  themselves  voluntarily 
were,  with  one  exception,  that  of  Scroop,  respited. 
Ten  were  executed.  All,  it  has  been  remarked, 
died  with  the  constancy  of  mart3TS,  and  it  is  to  be 
observed  that  not  a  single  man  of  those  who  had  a 
share  in  the  death  of  the  late  king  seems  to  have 
voluntarily  repented  of  the  deed. 

It  was  at  the  trial  of  the  regicides  that  the 
ridiculous  story  was  first  given  in  evidence  by  a 
soldier,  who  declared  that  when  Harry  Marten  and 
Cromwell  signed  the  death-warrant  of  the  king, 
they  wiped  their  pens  on  each  other's  faces. 

The  trial  of  Lord  William  Russell  for  his  alleged 
connection  with  the  Rye  House  Plot  commenced 
at  the  Old  Bailey  on  the  13th  of  July,  1683.  He 
was  charged  with  conspiring  the  death  of  the  king, 
and  consulting  how  to  levy  war  against  him.  As 
was  the  case  in  the  trial  of  the  regicides,  there  is 
no  doubt  that  the  jury  was  packed  by  the  sheriffs. 
Lord  Russell  desired  the  postponement  of  the  trial 


The  Oid  Bailey.] 


TJlE  PRESS-YARD. 


467 


till  the  afternoon,  on  account  of  an  error  in  the 
list  of  the  jury,  and  of  the  non-arrival  of  some 
witnesses  from  the  country.  The  Attorney-General, 
Sir  Robert  Sawyer,  corruptly  assuming  his  guilt  as 
already  proven,  answered  harshly,  "  You  would  not 
have  given  the  king  an  hour's  notice  for  saving  his 
life;  the  trial  must  proceed."  Desiring  to  take 
notes  of  the  evidence,  the  prisoner  asked  if  he 
might  have  assistance.  "  Yes,  a  servant,"  said  Sir 
Robert  D.  Pemberton,  Chief  Justice  of  the  Common 
Pleas,  who  presided,  adding,  "  any  of  your  servants 
shall  assist  you  in  writing  anything  you  please  for 
you.''  "  My  lord,"  was  the  answer,  "  my  wife  is 
here  to  do  it."  No  wonder  that  a  thrill  ran  through 
the  crowd  of  spectators  when  they  saw  the  daughter 
of  the  excellent  and  popular  Lord  Southampton 
thus  bravely  aiding  her  husband  in  his  defence  ! 
The  incident  was  not  likely  to  be  forgotten,  and 
both  painters  and  poets  have  long  delighted  to 
dwell  on  the  image 

"  Of  that  sweet  saint  who  sat  by  Russell's  side.'' 

Every  one  knows  how  the  trial  ended,  and  how 
the  unfortunate  but  noble-minded  Russell  was,  on 
the  2ist  of  July,  executed  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields. 

The  Press- Yard  at  the  Old  Bailey  still,  by  its 
name,  commemorates  one  of  the  cruelties  of  our 
old  statute-book.  In  all  cases  where  a  criminal 
refused  to  plead  at  the  bar,  in  order  to  preserve 
his  property  from  being  forfeited  to  the  Crown,  the 
peine  forte  et  dure  was  used.  The  most  celebrated 
case  of  the  application  of  this  torture  was  in  1659, 
when  Major  Strangways  endured  it,  to  save  his 
estate.  He  and  his  elder  sister  had  shared  a  farm 
peacefully  enough,  till  the  sister  married  a  lawyer 
named  Fussell,  whom  Strangways  disliked.  He 
had  been,  indeed,  heard  to  say  that  if  ever  his 
sister  married  Fussell,  he  would  be  the  death  of 
him  in  his  study,  or  elsewhere.  One  day  Fussell 
was  shot  at  his  lodgings  in  London,  and  suspicion 
fell  on  Strangways,  who  consented  to  the  ordeal  of 
touch.  At  his  trial  Strangways  refused  to  plead. 
He  wished  to  bestow  his  estate  on  his  best  friends, 
and  he  lapped  to  escape  the  ignominy  of  the  gibbet. 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Glynn  then  passed  the  sentence, 
"That  he  be  put  into  a  mean  house,  stopped  from 
.  any  light,  and  be  laid  upon  his  back,  with  his  body 
bare ;  that  his  arms  be  stretched  forth  with  a  cord, 
the  one  to  one  side,  the  other  to  the  other  side  of 
the  prison,  and  in  like  manner  his  legs  be  used ; 
and  that  upon  his  body  be  laid  as  much  iron  and 
stone  as  he  can  bear,  and  more.  The  first  day 
he  shall  have  three  morsels  of  barley  bread,  and 
the  next  he .  shall  drink  thrice  of  the  water  in  the 
next  channel  to  the  prison  door,  but  of  no  spring 


or  fountain  water;  and  this  shall  be  his  punish- 
ment till  he  die." 

On  the  Monday  following  Strangways  was  clothed 
in  white  from  top  to  toe,  and  wearing  a  mourning 
cloak  (for  indeed  it  was  his  own  funeral  to  which 
he  was  going).  His  friends  placed  themselves  at 
the  corner  of  the  press,  and  when  he  gave  the 
word,  put  on  the  weights.  This  was  done  till  he 
uttered  the  words,  "  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  soul," 
but  the  weight  being  too  light  to  produce  instant 
death,  those  present  stood  on  the  board,  as  a 
ghastly  and  last  act  of  friendship.  The  poor  fellow 
bore  this  some  eight  or  ten  minutes. 

After  the  almost  entire  abolition  of  this  cruel 
practice,  it  was  the  custom  to  force  the  prisoners  to 
plead,  if  possible,  by  screwing  the  thumb  with 
whipcord,  a  sort  of  buccaneer  form  of  cruelty.  In 
1 72 1,  Mary  Andrews  was  tortured  thus.  The  first 
three  whipcords  broke,  but  she  gave  way  with 
the  fourth.  The  same  year  (for  the  press  was  still 
partially  continued)  the  cord  was  tried  first  on  a 
criminal  named  Nathaniel  Hawes,  who  then  was 
pressed  under  a  weight  of  250  pounds,  and  he  con- 
sented to  plead.  According  to  one  writer  on  the 
subject,  the  cord  torture  was  last  used  about  1734. 

A  tragic  episode  in  the  history  of  the  adminis- 
tra.tion  of  justice  in  the  Old  Bailey  was  the  invasion 
of  the  court  by  the  gaol-fever  during  the  sessions 
of  May,  1750.  The  gaol-fever  raged  so  violently 
in  the  neighbouring  prison  that  the  effluvia,  entering 
the  court,  caused  the  death  of  the  Judge  of  the 
Common  Pleas,  Sir  Thomas -Abney,  Baron  Clark, 
Pennant  the  historian's  "resnected  kinsman,"  Sir 
Samuel  Pennant,  Lord  Mayor,  and  several  members 
of  the  Bar  and  of  the  jury. 

The  occasion  of  this  misadventure,  and  a  few 
particulars  concerning  it,  have  been  recorded  for 
the  benefit  of  posterity.  A  Captain  Clarke  was 
being  tried  for  killing  a  Captain  Turner,  and  the 
court  was  unusually  crowded.  About  one  hundred 
prisoners  were  tried,  and  they  were  kept  all  day 
cooped  up  in  two  small  rooms  14  feet  by  11  feet 
each  way,  and  only  7  feet  high.  It  was  remarked 
that  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  and  the  Recorder,  who 
sat  on  the  Lord  Mayor's  right  hand,  caught,  while 
the  rest  of  the  bench,  on  the  left,  escaped,  the  in- 
fection. This  was  attributed  to  the  draught,  that 
carried  the  infected  air  in  that  direction.  Every 
precaution  was  afterwards  taken,  says  Pennant,  to 
keep  the  court  airy ;  but  as  several  of  these  fatal 
accidents  had  already  happened  in  the  kingdom,  it 
was  rather  surprising  "  that  the  neglect  of  the 
salutary  precautions  was  continued  till  the  time  of 
this  awakening  call."  The  disease  again  proved 
fatal  to  several  in  1772. 


468 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tl'lie  6ld  Bailey. 


Upon  the  first  outbreak  of  the  gaol-fever  the 
custom  arose  of  placing  rue  in  front  of  the  dock  of 
the  Old  Bailey  to  prevent  infection  :  so  it  is  stated 
in  Lawrence's  "  Life  of  Fielding  "  (1855).  At  the 
trial  of  Manning  and  his  wife  for  murder,  it  will  be 
remembered  that  at  the  conclusion  of  a  speech  by 
one  of  the  counsel,  Mrs.  Manning  gathered  some 
of  "the  sprigs  of  rue  placed  on  the  dock,"  and 
threw  them  vehemently  over  the  wigged  heads  of 
the  "  learned  "  gentlemen. 

Over  the  court-room  is  a  dining-room,  where  the 


and  varied  with  the  season,  though  marrow- 
puddings  always  formed  a  part  of  it ;  the  second 
never  varied,  and  consisted  exclusively  of  beef- 
steaks. The  custom  was  to  serve  two  dinners 
(exact  duplicates)  a  day,  the  first  at  three  o'clock, 
the  second  at  five.  As  the  judges  relieved  each 
other  it  was  impracticable  for  them  to  partake  of 
both;  but  the  aldermen  often  did  so,  and  the 
chaplain,  whose  duty  it  was  to  preside  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  table,  was  never  absent  from  his  post. 
This  invaluable  public  servant  persevered  from  a 


FRONT  OF  NEWGATE  FROM  THE  OLD   BAILEY. 


judges  have  long  been  in  the  habit  of  dining  when 
the  court  was  over — a  practice  commemorated  by 
a  well-known  line  — 

"  And  wretches  hang  that  jurymen  may  dine." 

"  If  we  are  not  misinformed,"  says  an  amusing 
writer  in  the  Quarterly  Ra'iew  iox  1836,  "the  fiat 
has  gone  forth  already  against  one  class  of  City 
dinners,  which  was  altogether  peculiar  of  its  kind. 
We  allude  to  the  dinner  given  by  the  sheriffs  during 
the  Old  Bailey  sittings  to  the  judges  and  aldermen 
in  attendance,  the  Recorder,  Common  Serjeant, 
City  pleaders,  and  occasionally  a  few  members  of 
the  Bar.   The  first  course  was  rather  miscellaneous. 


sheer  sense  of  duty,  till  he  had  acquired  the  habit 
of  eating  two  dinners  a  day,  and  practised  it  for 
nearly  ten  years  without  any  perceptible  injury  to 
his  health.  We  had  the  pleasure  of  witnessing  his 
performances  at  one  of  the  five  o'clock  dinners, 
and  can  assert  with  confidence,  that  the  vigour  of 
his  attack  on  the  beef-steaks  was  wholly  unimpaired 
by  the  effective  execution  a  friend  assured  us  he 
had  done  on  them  two  hours  before.  The  occasion 
to  which  we  allude  was  so  remarkable  for  other 
reasons,  that  we  have  the  most  distinct  recollection 
of  the  circumstances.  It  was  the  first  trial  of  the  late 
St.  John  Long  for  rubbing  a  young  lady  into  her 
grave.  The  presiding  judges  were  Mr.  Justice  Park 


The  Old  Bailey.] 


A  TEDIOUS  TRIAL. 


469 


and  Mr.  Baron  Garrow,  who  retired  to  dinner  about 
five,  having  first  desired  the  jury,  amongst  whom 
there  was  a  difference  of  opinion,  to  be  locked  up. 
The  dinne^  proceeded  merrily,  the  beef-steaks  were 
renewed  again  and  again,  and  received  the  solemn 
sanction  of  judicial  approbation  repeatedly.  Mr. 
Adolphus  told  some  of  his  best  stories,  and  the 
chaplain  was  on  the  point  of  being  challenged  for  a 
song,  when  the  court-keeper  appeared,  with  a  face 
of  consternation,  to  announce  that  the  jury,  after 
being  very  noisy  for  an  hour  or  so,  had  sunk  into  a 
dull,  dead  lull,  which,  to  the  experienced  in  such 


he  deemed  a  reasonable  hour — namely,  about  ten — 
and  then  informing  the  jury  that,  if  they  were  not 
agreed,  they  must  be  locked  up  without  fire  or 
candle  until  a  reasonable  hour  (about  nine)  on  the 
Monday,  by  which  time  he  trusted  they  would  be 
unanimous.  The  effect  of  such  an  intimation  was 
not  put  to  the  test,  for  Mr.  St.  John  Long  was 
found  guilty  about  nine.  We  are  sorry  to  be 
obliged  to  add  that  the  worthy  chaplain's  digestion 
has  at  length  proved  unequal  to  the  double  burthen 
imposed  upon  it ;  but  the  Court  of  Aldermen,  con- 
sidering him  a  martyr  to  their  cause,  have  very 


surgeons'  hall,  old  bailey,  1800. 


matters,  augurs  the  longest  period  of  deliberation 
which  the  heads,  or  rather  stomachs,  of  the  jury 
can  endure.  The  trial  had,  unfortunately,  taken 
place  upon  a  Saturday,  and  it  became  a  serious 
question  in  what  manner  the  refractory  jurymen 
were  to  be  dealt  with.  Mr.  Baron  Garrow  proposed 
waiting  till  within  a  few  minutes  of  twelve,  and  then 
discharging  them.  Mr.  Justice  Park,  the  senior 
judge,  and  a  warm  admirer  of  the  times  when 
refractory  juries  were  carried  round  the  country  in 
a  cart,  would  hear  of  no  expedient  of  the  kind. 
He  said  a  judge  was  not  bound  to  wait  beyond  a 
reasonable  hour  at  night,  nor  to  attend  before  a 
reasonable  hour  in  the  morning ;  that  Sunday  was 
a  dies  non  in  law,  and  that  a  verdict  must  be  deli- 
vered in  the  presence  of  the  judge.  He  conse- 
quently declared  his  intention  of  waiting  till  what 
88— Vol.  II. 


properly  agreed  to  grant  him  an  adequate  pension 
for  his  services." 

In  1807-8  the  dinners  for  three  sessions,  nineteen 
days,  cost  Sheriff  Phillips  and  his  colleague  £2)S 
per  day — £(>(>$  >  ^45  dozen  of  wine  was  consumed 
at  these  dinners,  costing  ^^450,  so  that  the  total 
of  the  bill  came  to  ;^i,ii5. 

And  now  we  take  leave  of  the  Central  Criminal 
Court,  according  to  Garth,  in  his  "  Dispensary," 

" That  most  celebrated  place, 

Where  angry  Justice  shows  her  awful  face  ; 
Where  little  villains  must  submit  to  fate, 
That  great  ones  may  enjoy  the  world  in  state." 

The  Old  Bailey — that  part  of  the  street  opposite 
to  Newgate — became  the  scene  of  public  execu- 
tions in  1783,  on  the  9th  of  December  in  which 
year  the  first  culprit  suffered  here  the  extreme 


47° 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  old  fiaiiey. 


penalty  of  the  law.  Before  that  time  the  public 
executions  ordinarily  took  place  at  Tyburn.  The 
gallows  of  the  Old  Bailey  was  built  with  three 
cross-beams  for  as  many  rows  of  victims,  and 
between  February  and  December,  1785,  ninety-six 
persons  suffered  by  the  "new  drop,"  an  ingenious 
invention  which  took  the  place  of  the  cart.  On 
but  one  occasion  the  old  mode  of  execution  was 
revived ;  a  triangular  gallows  was  set  up  in  the 
road,  opposite  Green  Arbour  Court,  and  the  cart 
was  drawn  from  under  the  criminal's  feet. 

The  front  of  Newgate  continued  to  be  the  place 
of  execution  in  London  from  1783  to  1868,  when 
an  Act  was  passed  directing  executions  to  take 
place  within  the  walls  of  prisons.  This  Act  was 
the  result  of  a  commission  on  capital  punishments, 
appointed  in  1864,  which,  in  their  report  issued  in 
1865,  recommended,  amongst  other  things,  that 
executions  should  not  be  public.  The  number  of 
executions  throughout  the  country  has  been  gra- 
dually decreasing  for  many  years,  as  our  laws  have 
become  less  severe.  In  1820  there  were  forty- 
three  executions  in  London;  in  1825,  seventeen; 
in  1830,  six;  in  1835,  none;  in  1836,  none;  in 
1837,  two;  in  1838,  none;  in  1839,  two;  in  1840, 
one;  in  1842,  two;  in  1843,  none;  in  1844,  one; 
in  1845,  three;  in  1846,  two;  and  from  1847  to 
187 1  the  average  has  been  1-48  per  annum.  What 
a  contrast  this  presents  to  the  stem  old  times  when 
the  law  of  the  gallows  and  the  scaffold  kept  our 
forefathers  in  order  !  In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII. 
—-thirty- eight  years — it  Ts  said  that  no  fewer  than 
72,000  criminals  were  executed  in  England ! 

It  used  to  be  occasionally  the  usage  to  execute 
the  criminal  near  the  scene  of  his  guilt.  Those 
who  were  punished  capitally  for  the  riots  of  1780 
suffered  in  those  parts  of  the  town  in  which  their 
crimes  were  committed;  and  in  1790  two  incen- 
diaries were  hanged  in  Aldersgate  Street,  at  the 
eastern  end  of  Long  Lane,  opposite  the  site  of  the 
house  to  which  they  had  set  fire.  "Since  that 
period,"  Mr.  Timbs  observes,  "there  have  been 
few  executions  in  London  except  in  front  of  New- 
gate. The  last  deviation  from  the  regular  course 
was  in  the  case  of  the  sailor  Cashman,  who  was 
hung  in  18 1 7,  in  Skinner  Street,  opposite  the  house 
of  Mr.  Beckwith,  the  gunsmith,  which  he  had 
plundered." 

About  1786  was  witnessed  in  the  Old  Bailey  the 
end  of  an  old  practice :  the  body  of  the  criminal 
just  executed  was  burned  for  the  last  time.  A 
■woman  was  the  sufferer  in  this  case.  She  was  hung 
on  a  low  gibbet,  and  on  life  being  extinct,  fagots 
were  heaped  around  her  and  over  her  head,  fire  was 
set  to  the  pile,  and  the  corpse  was  burned  to  ashes. 


The  memorable  executions  at  the  Old  Bailey 
include  those  of  Mrs.  Phepoe,  for  miurder,  Decem- 
ber II,  1797;  Holloway  and  Haggerty,  February 
23rd,  1807;  Bellingham,  May  i8th,  1812;  Joseph 
Hunton  (Quaker),  December  8th,  1828;  Bishop 
and  Williams,  December  5,  1831 ;  John  Pegsworth, 
March  7th,  1837  ;  James  Greenacre,  May  2,  1837; 
besides  several  others  already  mentioned  by  us  as 
having  undergone  trial  at  the  adjoining  court  of 
justice. 

A  dreadful  accident  took  place  here  at  the 
execution  of  Holloway  and  Haggerty,  on  the  23rd 
of  February,  1807,  for  the  murder  of  Mr.  Steele,  on 
Hounslow  Heath,  in  1802.  Twenty-eight  persons 
were  crushed  to  death.  We  have  already  alluded 
to  the  circumstances,  and  to  our  previous  notice 
the  following  account  of  the  catastrophe,  by  a 
writer  in  the  Annual  Register,  must  be  regarded 
as  supplementary : — "  On  the  north  side  of  the 
Old  Bailey,  the  multitude  to  see  the  execution 
was  so  immensely  great  that,  in  their  move- 
ments, they  were  not  inaptly  compared  to  the 
flow  and^  reflow  of  the  waves  of  the  sea,  when 
in  troubled  motion.  In  the  centre  of  this  vast 
concourse  of  people  was  placed  a  cart,  in  which 
persons  were  accommodated  with  standing-places 
to  see  the  culprits ;  but,  it  is  supposed  from  the 
circumstance  of  too  many  being  admitted  into  it, 
the  axle-tree  gave  way,  and  by  the  concussion 
many  persons  were  killed.  Unhappily,  the  mischief 
did  not  stop  here.  A  temporary  chasm  in  the 
crowd  being  thus  made  by  the  fall  of  the  cart, 
many  persons  rushed  forward  to  get  upon  the 
body  of  it,  which  formed  a  kind  of  platform,  from 
which  they  thought  they  could  get  a  commanding 
view  over  the  heads  of  the  persons  in  front.  All 
those  who,  from  choice  or  necessity,  were  nearest 
to  the  cart,  strove  to  get  upon  it;  and  in  their 
eagerness  drove  those  in  front  headforemost 
among  the  crowd  beneath,  by  whom  they  were 
trampled  under  foot,  without  the  power  of  relieving 
them.  The  latter  in  turn  were  in  like  manner 
assailed,  and  shared  the  same  fate.  This  dreadful 
scene  continued  for  some  time.  The  shrieks  of 
the  dying  men,  women,  and  children  were  terrific 
beyond  description,  and  could  only  be  equalled  by 
the  horror  of  the  event."  The  most  affecting  scene 
of  distress  was  seen  at  Green  Arbour  Court,  nearly 
opposite  the  Debtors'  Door. 

Offenders  frequently  stood  in  the  pillory  in  the 
Old  Bailey,  and  there,  no  doubt,  were  often,  as 
was  customary,  stoned  by  the  mob,  and  pelted 
with  rotten  eggs,  and  other  equally  offensive 
missiles.  The  pillory  generally  consisted  pf  a 
wooden  frame,  erected  on  a  scaffolding,  with  holes 


The  Old  Bailey.] 


THE    PILLORY. 


471 


and  folding  boards  for  the  admission  of  the  head 
and  hands  of  him  whom  it  was  desired  to  render 
thus  publicly  infamous.  Rushworth  says  that  it 
was  invented  for  the  special  benefit  of  mounte- 
banks and  quacks,  "who  having  gotten  upon  banks 
and  forms  to  abuse  the  people,  were  exalted  in  the 
same  kind,"  but  it  seems  to  have  been  freely  used 
for  cheats  of  all  description.  Bakers  for  making 
bread  of  light  weight,  and  "  dairymen  for  selling 
mingled  butter,"  were  in  the  olden  time  "  sharply 
corrected  "  upon  it.  So  also  were  fraudulent  corn, 
coal,  and  cattle  dealers,  cutters  of  purses,  sellers 
of  sham  gold  rings,  keepers  of  infamous  houses, 
forgers  of  letters,  bonds,  and  deeds,  counterfeits 
of  papal  bulls,  users  of  unstamped  measures,  and 
forestallers  of  the  markets.  But  just  as  the  Old 
Bailey  Court  witnessed  occasionally  the  perse- 
cution of  the  innocent,  so  the  pillory  had  at  one 
time  other  heroes  than  cheats,  thieves,  scandal- 
mongers, and  perjurers.  "  Thanks  to  Archbishop 
Laud,  and  Star  Chamber  tyrants,"  says  the  late  Dr. 
Robert  Chambers,  "  it  figured  so  conspicuously  in 
the  political  and  polemical  disputes  which  heralded 
the  downfall  of  the  monarchy,  as  to  justify  a  writer 
of  our  own  time  in  saying,  '  Noble  hearts  had  been 
tried  and  tempered  in  it ;  daily  had  been  elevated 
in  it  mental  independence,  manly  self-reliance, 
robust,  athletic  endurance.  All  from  within  that 
has  undying  worth  it  had  but  more  plainly  exposed 
to  public  gaze  from  without.' "  Many  a  courageous 
and  outspoken  thinker  will  occur  to  every  reader  of 
English  history  as  having  been  set  on  this  scaffold 
of  infamy,  to  the  lasting  disgrace  of  narrow-minded 
tyranny. 

The  last  who  stood  in  the  pillory  of  London  was 
Peter  James  Bossy,  tried  for  perjury,  and  sentenced 
to  transportation  for  seven  years.  Previous  to  being 
transported  he  was  to  be  kept  for  six  months  in 
Newgate,  and  to  stand  for  one  hour  in  the  pillory 
in  the  Old  Bailey.  The  pillory  part  of  the  sentence 
was  executed  on  the  24th  of  June,  1830. 

An  Act  of  the  British  Parliament,  dated  June  30, 
1837,  put  an  end  to  the  use  of  the  pillory  in  the 
United  Kingdom.  In  1815  it  had  been  abolished 
as  a  punishment  except  for  perjury. 

The  Surgeons'  Hall  stood  in  the  Old  Bailey,  on 
the  site  of  the  New  Sessions  House,  till  1809. 
Pennant,  in  his  "London,"  remarks,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  old  Court  of  Justice,  that  the  erection 
of  the  Surgeons'  Hall  in  its  neighbourhood  was 
an  exceedingly  convenient  circumstance.  "  By  a 
sort  of  second  sight,"  he  says,  "  the  Surgeons' 
Theatre  was  built  near  this  court  of  conviction 
and  Newgate,  the  concluding  stage  of  the  lives  for- 
feited to  the  justice  of  their  country,  several  years 


before  the  fatal  tree  was  removed  from  Tyburn  to 
its  present  site.  It  is  a  handsome  building,  orna- 
mented with  Ionic  pilasters,  and  with  a  double 
flight  of  steps  to  the  first  floor.  Beneath  is  a  door 
for  the  admission  of  the  bodies  of  murderers  and 
other  felons,  who,  noxious  in  their  lives,  make  a 
sort  of  reparation  to  their  fellow-creatures  by  be- 
coming useful  after  death." 

The  bodies  of  murderers,  after  execution,  were 
dissected  in  the  Surgeons'  Theatre,  according  to  an 
Act  passed  in  1752,  and  which  was  only  repealed 
in  the  reign  of  William  IV.  A  curious  experiment 
was  performed  here,  in  the  beginning  of  the  century, 
on  the  body  of  one  Foster,  who  was  executed  for 
the  murder  of  his  wife.  It  was  "lately,"  says  a 
writer  in  the  Annual  Register  for  1803,  "subjected 
to  the  galvanic  process,  by  Mr.  Aldini  (a  nephew  of 
Galvani),  in  presence  of  Mr.  Keate,  Mr.  Carpue, 
and  several  other  professional  gentlemen.  On  the 
first  application  of  the  process  to  the  face,  the  jaw 
of  the  deceased  criminal  began  to  quiver,  and  the 
adjoining  muscles  were  horribly  contorted,  and  one 
eye  actually  opened.  In  a  subsequent  course  of 
the  experiment,  the  right  hand  was  raised  and 
clenched,  and  the  legs  and  thighs  were  set  in 
motion ;  and  it  appeared  to  all  the  bystanders  that 
the  wretched  man  was  on  the  point  of  being  re- 
stored to  life !  The  object  of  these  experiments 
was  to  show  the  excitability  of  the  human  frame 
when  animal  electricity  is  duly  applied ;  and  the 
possibility  of  its  being  eflScaciously  used  in  cases 
of  drowning,  suffocation,  or  apoplexy,  by  reviving 
the  action  of  the  lungs,  and  thereby  rekindling  the 
expiring  spark  of  vitality."  But  the  most  curious 
part  of  the  proceedings  remains  to  be  told.  Ac- 
cording to  Mr.  J.  Saunders,  in  Knight's  "  London," 
1842,  when  the  right  arm  was  raised,  as  mentioned 
above,  it  struck  one  of  the  officers  of  the  institu- 
tion, who  died  that  very  afternoon  of  the  shock. 

In  April,  1760,  Laurence  Earl  Ferrers  was  tried 
before  the  House  of  Lords,  for  the  murder  of  his 
steward.  He  was  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  "  to 
be  hanged  by  the  neck  till  he  was  deadj  after 
which  his  body  was  to  be  delivered  to  Surgeons' 
Hall,  to  be  dissected  and  anatomised."  At  the 
latter  part  of  the  sentence,  we  are  told,  his  lordship 
cried  out,  "  God  forbid !"  but,  soon  recollecting 
himself,  added,  "God's  will  be  done!"  On 
Monday,  the  5th  of  May,  he  was  hanged  at 
Tyburn,  and  the  body  was  conveyed,  with  some 
state,  in  his  own  landau  and  six,  to  the  Surgeons' 
Hall,  in  the  Old  Bailey,  to  undergo  the  remainder 
of  the  sentence.  A  print  of  the  time  shows  the 
corpse  as  it  lay  here. 

It  was  at  this  hall  that  Goldsmith  presented  him- 


472 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


CThe  Old  Bailey. 


self  in  a  new  suit — not  paid  for — to  be  examined  as 
to  his  qualifications  for  being  a  surgeon's  mate,  on 
the  2ist  of  December,  1758.  "The  beadle  called 
my  name,"  says  Roderick  Random,  when  he  found 
himself  in  a  similiar  condition  at  that  place  of 
torture,  "with  a  voice  that  made  me  tremble  as 
much  as  if  it  had  been  the  sound  of  the  last  trumpet. 
However,  there  was  no  remedy  :  I  was  conducted 
into  a  large  hall,  where  I  saw  about  a  dozen  of 
grim  faces  sitting  at  a  long  table,  one  of  whom  bade 
me  come  forward  in  such  an  imperious  tone,  that 
I  was  actually  for  a  minute  or  two  bereft  of  my 
senses." 

"Whether  the  same  process,"  says  Mr.  John 
Forster,  "conducted  through  a  like  memorable 
scene,  bereft  poor  Goldsmith  altogether  of  his, 
cannot  now  be  ascertained.  All  that  is  known  is 
told  in  a  dry  extract  from  the  books  of  the  College 
of  Surgeons  :  '  At  a  Court  of  Examiners,  held  at 
the  Theatre,  21st  December,  1758,  present' — the 
names  are  not  given,  but  there  is  a  long  list  of  the 
candidates  who  passed,  in  the  midst  of  which  these 
occur :  '  James  Bernard,  mate  to  an  hospital. 
Oliver  Goldsmith,  not  qualified  for  ditto.' 

"A  harder  sentence,"  continues  Goldsmith's 
,  biographer,  "  a  more  cruel  doom  than  this,  at  the 
time,  must  have  seemed,  even  the  Old  Bailey  has 
not  often  been  witness  to ;  yet,  far  from  blaming 
that  worthy  court  of  examiners,  should  we  not  rather 
feel  that  much  praise  is  due  to  them?  That  they  did 
their  duty  in  ]?ejecting  the  short,  thick,  dull,  ungainly, 
over-anxious,  over-dressed,  "simple-looking  Irishman 
who  presented  himself  that  memorable  day,  can 
hardly,  I  think,  be  doubted;  but  unconsciously  they 
also  did  a  great  deal  more.  They  found  him  not 
qualified  to  be  a  surgeon's  mate,  but  left  him  quali- 
fied to  heal  the  wounds  and  abridge  the  sufierings 
of  all  the  world.  They  found  him  querulous  with 
adversity,  given  up  to  irresolute  fears,  too  much 
blinded  with  failures  and  sorrows  to  see  the  divine 
uses  to  which  they  tended  still ;  and  from  all  this 
their  sternly  just  and  awful  decision  drove  him 
resolutely  back.  While  the  door  of  the  Surgeons' 
Hall  was  shut  upon  him  that  day,  the  gate  of  the 
beautiful  mountain  was  slowly  opening." 

At  what  used  to  be  No.  68  of  the  Old  Bailey, 
"the  second  door  south  of  Ship  Court,"  lived 
Jonathan  Wild,  the  famous  thief-taker,  who  had  a 
very  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  Sessions  House. 
A  description  of  the  Old  Bailey  would  be  de- 
cidedly incomplete  were  we  to  omit  giving  a  sketch 
of  the  career  of  this  noted  inhabitant.  Almost 
every  great  man  arrives  at  eminence  by  zeal  and 
energy,  devoted  to  some  particular  calling ;  and  it 


which  Jonathan  made  peculiarly  his  own.  His  occu- 
pation was  the  restoration  of  stolen  goods,  carried 
on  from  about  the  year  1 7 1 2,  through  a  secret  con- 
federacy with  all  the  regular  thieves,  burglars,  and 
highwaymen  of  the  metropolis,  whose  depredations 
he  prompted  and  directed.    An  Act  of  Parliament, 
passed  in  17 17,  tended  rather  to  check  the  display 
of  his  peculiar  talents.     By  this  Act  persons  con- 
victed of  receiving  or  buying  goods,  knowing  them 
to  be  stolen,  were  made  Hable  to  transportation  for 
fourteen  years  ;  and  by  another  clause,  with  a  par- 
ticular view  to  Wild's  proceedings,  a  heavy  punish- 
ment was  awarded  to  all  who  trafficked  in  such 
goods  and  divided  the  money  with  felons.     Wild's 
ingenuity  and  audacity,  however,  long  enabled  him 
to  elude  this  new  law.    He  was  one  of  the  cleverest 
of  rogues,  and  it  has  been  well  said,  in  one  sense, 
merited  the  name  of  "  great,"  bestowed  upon  him 
by  Fielding,  in  whose  history  of  him,  although  the 
incidents  are  fictitious,  there  is  no  exaggeration  of 
his  talents  or  courage,  any  more  than  of  his  un- 
scrupulousness  and  want  of  all   moral  principle. 
The  plan  upon  which  he  conducted  his  extensive 
business  operations  was  this.     When  thieves  made 
prizes  of  any  sort,  they  delivered  them  up  to  him, 
instead  of  carrying  them  to  the  pawnbroker,  and 
Wild  restored  the  goods  to  the  owners,  for  a  conside- 
ration, by  which  means  large  sums  were  raised,  and 
the  thieves  remained  secure  from  detection.    To 
manage  this,  he  would  apply  to  persons  who  had 
been  robbed,  and  pretend  to  be  greatly  concerned 
at  their  misfortunes,  adding  that  some  suspected 
goods   had  been  stopped   by  a  friend  of  his,  a 
broker,  who  would  be  willing  to  give  them  up ;  and 
he  did  not  fail  to  throw  out  a  hint  that  the  broker 
merited  some  reward  for  his  disinterested  conduct 
and  his  trouble,  and  to  exact  a  promise  that  no  dis- 
agreeable consequences   should  follow  on  account 
of  the  broker's  having  omitted  to  secure  the  thieves 
as  well  as  the  property.     The  person  whose  goods 
had  been  carried  off  was  generally  not  unwilUng  by 
this  means  to  save  himself  the  trouble  and  expense 
of  a  prosecution,  and  the  money  paid  was  usually 
sufficient  to  remunerate  the  "broker,"  as  well  as 
his  agent. 

At  last,  after  he  had  amassed  a  considerable 
sum,  he  adopted  another  and  a  safer  plan.  He 
opened  an  office,  to  which  great  numbers  resorted, 
in  the  hope  of  obtaining  the  restitution  of  their  pro- 
perty. His  light  was  by  no  means  hid  under  a 
bushel,  and  he  kept  it  burning  with  the  greatest 
credit  and  profit  to  himself  Let  us  suppose  some 
one  to  have  had  goods  stolen  of  a  considerable 
value.     He  calls  upon  Mr.  Wild,  at  his  office,  and 


may  be  worth  our  pains  to  look  for  a  little  at  that  pays  half-a-crown  for  advice.   Wild  enters  his  name 


The  Old  Bailey.] 


JONATHAN    WILD. 


473 


and  address  in  his  books,  inquires  particularly  about 
the  robbery,  and  sounds  his  client  as  to  the  reward 
he  will  give  in  the  event  of  the  restitution  being 
made.  "  If  you  call  again,"  he  says,  "  I  hope  I 
shall  be  able  to  give  you  some  agreeable  informa- 
tion." He  calls  again.  Wild  says  that  he  has 
heard  about  the  goods,  but  the  agent  he  has  em- 
ployed tells  him  that  the  robbers  pretend  that  by 
pawning  them  they  can  raise  more  money  than 
the  amount  of  the  reward.  Would  it  not,  he  sug- 
gests, be  a  good  plan  to  increase  the  reward  ?  The 
client  consents,  and  retires.  He  calls  the  third 
time.  He  has  the  goods  placed  in  his  hands  :  he 
pays  the  reward  over  to  Jonathan,  and  there  is  the 
end  of  the  transaction. 

In  the  course  of  this  business  it  will  readily 
be  perceived  that  Wild  became  possessed  of  the 
secrets  of  every  notorious  thief  about  London.  All 
the  highwaymen,  shoplifters,  and  housebreakers 
knew  that  they  were  under  the  necessity  of  com- 
plying with  whatever  he  thought  fit  to  demand. 
Should  they  oppose  his  inclination,  they  were  cer- 
tain, ere  long,  to  be  placed  within  reach  of  the 
clutches  of  justice,  and  be  sacrificed  to  the  injured 
laws  of  their  country.  Wild  led  two  lives,  so  to 
speak;  one  amongst  ruffians,  and  the  other  as  a 
man  of  consequence,  with  laced  clothes  and  a  sword, 
before  the  ptiblic  eye ;  and  the  latter  life  was  as 
unlike  the  former  as  any  two  lives  could  well  be. 

He  professed,  in  public,  to  be  the  most  zealous 
of  thief-takers ;  and  to  ordinary  observation  his  life 
and  strength  seemed  devoted  to  the  pursuit  and 
apprehension  of  felons.  At  his  trial — for  his  trial 
came  at  last — he  had  a  printed  paper  handed  to  the 
jury,  entitled,  "  A  List  of  Persons  discovered,  appre- 
hended, and  convicted  of  several  robberies  on  the 
highway,  and  also  for  burglary  and  housebreaking, 
and  also  for  returning  from  transportation,  by 
Jonathan  Wild;"  and  it  contained  the  names  of 
thirty-five  robbers,  twenty-two  housebreakers,  and 
ten  returned  convicts,  whom  he  had  been  instru- 
mental in  getting  hanged.  This  statement  was 
probably  true  enough.  In  the  records  of  the  trials 
at  the  Old  Bailey,  for  many  years  before  it  came  to 
his  own  turn,  he  repeatedly  appeared,  figuring  in 
the  witness-box,  and  giving  evidence  for  the  prose- 
cution, and  in  many  cases  he  seems  to  have  taken 
a  leading  part  in  the  apprehension  of  the  prisoner. 

In  carrying  on  his  trade  of  blood.  Wild,  of 
course,  was  occasionally  turned  upon  by  his  betrayed 
and  desperate  victim.  But,  when  this  happened, 
his  brazen-faced  effrontery  carried  everything  before 
it.  In  a  trial,  for  example,  of  three  unfortunate 
wretches  indicted  for  several  robberies  in  January, 
1723,  he  gave  the  following  account  of  his  pro- 


ceedings : — "  Some  coming  (I  suppose  from  the 
prosecutors)  to  me  about  the  robbery,  I  made  it 
my  business  to  search  after  the  prisoners,  for  I  had 
heard  that  they  used  to  rob  about  Hampstead; 
and  I  went  about  it  the  more  willingly,  because  I 
had  heard  they  had  threatened  to  shoot  me  through 
the  head.  I  offered  ;£^io  a  head  for  any  person 
who  would  discover  them ;  upon  which  a  woman 
came  and  told  me  that  the  prisoners  had  been  with 
her  husband,  to  entice  him  to  turn  out  with  them  ; 
and  if  I  would  promise  he  should  come  and  go 
safely  he  would  give  me  some  intelligence.  I  gave 
her  my  promise ;  and  her  husband  came  accord- 
ingly, and  told  me  that  Levee  and  Blake,  two  of 
the  party,  were  at  that  time  cleaning  their  pistols 
at  a  house  in  Fetter  Lane.  I  went  thither  and 
seized  them  both."  The  husband  of  the  woman, 
it  appears,  had  really  taken  part  in  one  of  the  rob- 
beries, though  he  now  came  forward  to  convict  his 
associates,  having  been,  no  doubt,  all  along  in 
league  with  Wild ;  and  Blake  (better  known  to 
fame  as  Blueskin)  also  figured  as  king's  evidence 
on  this  occasion,  and  frankly  admitted  that  he  had 
been  out  with  the  prisoners.  The  three  unlucky 
characters  in  the  dock,  while  their  comrades  thus 
figured  in  a  freer  and  more  pleasant  situation, 
"all,"  says  the  account  of  the  trial,  vehemently 
"exclaimed  against  Jonathan  Wild;"  but  they 
were  found  guilty,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  swinging 
in  company  on  Tyburn-tree  a  few  days  afterwards. 
But,  in  all  fairness  to  Jonathan,  it  must  be  said 
that  he  did  not,  till  the  last  moment,  desert  his 
friends,  and  that  he  only  sacrificed  them  for  the 
general  good  of  the  concern,  and  from  a  bold  and 
comprehensive  view  of  the  true  policy  of  trade. 
Blueskin's  turn  to  be  tried,  convicted,  and  hanged, 
came  about  a  couple  of  years  after  the  affair  just 
mentioned.  Wild  was  to  have  been  a  witness, 
against  him ;  but  a  day  or  two  before  the  trial, 
when  he  went  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  intended  victim, 
Blueskin  drew  out  a  clasp-knife,  and,  in  a  twinkling, 
fell  upon  Jonathan,  and  cut  his  throat.  The  blade 
was  too  blunt,  however,  and  the  thief-taker  received 
no  lasting  damage.  When  the  verdict  was  given, 
Blueskin  addressed  the  court,  and  told  them  of  an 
exceedingly  kindly  promise  his  late  partner  had 
made  him.  "Qn  Wednesday  last,  Jonathan  Wild 
said  to  Simon  Jacobs  (another  prisoner  soon  after 
transported),  '  I  believe  you  will  not  bring  ^^40 
this  time ;  I  wish  Joe  (meaning  me)  was  in  your 
case ;  but  I'll  do  my  endeavour  to  bring  you  off  as  a 
single  felon ' "  (crimes  punishable  only  by  transporta- 
tion, whipping, imprisonment,  &c.,  were  denominated 
single  felonies).  "  And  then,  turning  to  me,  he  said, 
*  I  believe  you  must  die ;  FU  fend  you  a  good  book 


474 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Old  Bailey. 


or  two,  and  provide  you  a  coffin,  and  you  shall  not 
be  anatomised  r  " 

The  reward  of  £^\o,  it  has  been  explained, 
which  Wild  could  not  manage  to  make  Jacobs 
bring  "  this  time,"  was  part  of  a  system  established 
by  various  Acts  of   Parliament,  which  assigned 


"That  for  many  years  past  he  had  been  a  con- 
federate with  great  numbers  of  highwaymen,  pick- 
pockets, housebreakers,  shoplifters,  and  other 
thieves;"  and  the  eleventh  and  last,  that  it  ap- 
peared "  he  had  often  sold  human  blood  by  pro- 
curing false  evidence  to  swear  persons  into  facts 


JONATHAN    wild's    HOUSE. 


certain  money  payments  to  be  made  to  persons 
apprehending  and  prosecuting  to  conviction  high- 
way robbers,  coiners,  and  other  delinquents. 

We  come  now  to  the  end  of  Wild's  career. 
He  was  committed  to  Newgate  on  the  isth  of 
February,  1725,  on  a  charge  of  having  assisted  a 
criminal  in  his  escape  from  prison.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  days  he  moved  to  be  either  admitted  to 
bail  or  discharged,  but  a  warrant  of  detainer  was 
produced  against  him  in  court,  the  first  of  several 
articles  of  information  affixed  to  the  warrant  being, 


of  which  they  were  not  guilty."  On  Saturday,  the 
iSth  of  May,  he  was  brought  to  trial  on  two 
separate  indictments.  The  jury  found  him  guilty, 
and  he  was  sentenced  to  be  executed  at  Tyburn 
on  Monday,  the  24th  of  May,  1725.  On  the 
morning  of  the  execution  the  wretched  man  swal- 
lowed a  dose  of  poison,  but  it  failed  to  end  his 
life,  and  in  a  state  of  half-insensibility  he  was 
placed  in  the  cart  that  was  to  convey  him  to  the 
gallows.  On  the  way  he  was  pelted  by  the  popu- 
lace with  stones  and  dirt,  and,-  altogether,  this 


The  Old  Bailey.] 


THE    THIEF-TAKER. 


475 


arch-villain  made  rather  a  pitiable  exit  from  this 
world.  At  the  foot  of  the  gallows  he  remained  so 
long  drowsy  in  the  cart,  that  the  mob  called  out 
to  the  hangman  that  they  would  knock  him  on  the 
head  if  the  hanging  was  not  at  once  proceeded  with. 


from  them.     The  body  of  Uiis  ialamoas  fellow  was 
secretly  buried. 

Jonathan  Wild's  skeleton,  says  Mr.  Timbs,  in 
i'868,  was  some  years  since  in  the  possession  of 
a  surgeon  at  Windsor.    And  a  relic  of  him  was 


JONATHAN  WILD  IN  THE  CART.     (Front  a  Contemporary  Print. 


The  amiable  Jonathan  had  five  wives.  His  eldest 
son,  soon  after  his  father's  execution,  sold  himself 
for  a  servant  to  the  plantations.  A  skull  claiming 
to  be  the  great  thief-taker's  was  exhibited,  some 
years  ago,  in  St.  Giles's,  but  as  it  was  not  fractured 
in  several  places,  it  was  probably  spurious.  Wild 
boasted  in  prison  of  the  numerous  robbers  he 
had  captured,  and  the  wounds  he  had  received 


judged  of  sufficient  interest  to  be  exhibited  to  the 
Society  of  Antiquaries  in  1866.  It  was  a  muske- 
toon  given  by  Jonathan  Wild  to  Blueskin,  which 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  well-known  magis- 
trate, Sir  John  Fielding,  and  by  him  had  been 
given  to  his  half-brother,  Henry  Fielding. 

In  1841  a  curious  letter  was  found  in  the  Town 
Clerk's  Office  of  the  City  of  London,  from  Jonathan 


476 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[The  Old  Bailey. 


Wild,  asking  for  remuneration  for  services  he  had 
rendered  to  the  cause  of  justice.  In  the  same  letter, 
written  in  1723,  he  also  prayed  the  Lord  Mayor 
and  the  Court  of  Aldermen  "to  be  pleased  to 
admit  him  into  the  freedom  of  this  honourable 
City,"  in  consideration  of  his  valuable  services. 
There  is  a  record  that  Jonathan  Wild's  petition  was 
read  by  the  Court  of  Aldermen,  but  we  do  not  find 
evidence  that  the  coveted  freedom  was  awarded  to 
him.  Wild's  house  was  long  distinguished  by  the 
sign  of  the  head  of  Charles  I. 

In  the  Old  Bailey  stood  Sydney  House,  occupied, 
in  the  time  of  Pennant,  by  a  coachmaker.  Once 
it  was  the  proud  mansion  of  the  Sydneys.  They 
occupied  it  till  their  removal  to  Leicester  House, 
at  the  north-east  corner  of  Leicester  Square. 

The  names  of  several  eminent  persons — alto- 
gether independent  of  the  "Old  Bailey  Sessions 
House" — occur  to  us  as- we  perambulate  this  inte- 
resting locality.  William  Camden,  the  "nourrice 
of  antiquitie,"  was  bom  in  the  Old  Bailey,  in  1550. 
His  fathei;  was  a  paper-stainer  here.  In  Ship 
Court,  on  the  west  side,  Hogarth's  father,  Richard 
Hogarth,  kept  a  school.  He  seems  to  Jiave  come 
early  from  the  North  of  England,  and  was  employed 
in  London  as  a  teacher  and  as  a  corrector  of  the 
press.  He  was  a  man  of  some  learning;  and 
Chalmers,  writing  in  18 14,  mentions  that  a  dic- 
tionary in  Latin  and  En^ish,  which  he  compiled 
for  the  use  of  schools,  was  then  extant  in  manu- 
script. At  No.  67,  at  the  comer  of  Ship  Court, 
William  Hone,  in  181 7,  gave  to  the  world  his  three 
celebrated  political  parodies  on  the  Catechism,  the 
Litany,  and  the  Creed,  for  which  he  was  three  times 
tried  at  Guildhall,  and  acquitted. 

Peter  Bales,  the  celebrated  penman  of  the  time 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  kept  a  writing-school,  in  1590, 
at  the  upper  end  of  the  Old  Bailey,  and  published 
his  "Writing.  Schoolmaster"  here.  In  a  writing 
competition  he  once  won  a  golden  pen,  of  the 
value  of  £20,  and  in  addition  had  the  "arms  "of 
caligraphy — viz.,  azure,  a  pen  or — given  him  as  a 
prize."  This  clever  writer  had  a  steady  hand,  and 
wrote  with  such  minuteness,  that,  remarks  D'Israeli, 
in  his  "  Curiosities  of  Literature,"  he  astonished  the 
eyes  of  beholders,  by  showing  them  what  they  could 
not  see.  In  the  Harleian  MSS.  (530)  we  have  a 
narrative  of  "  a  rare  piece  of  work  brought  to  pass 
by  Peter  Bales,  an  Englishman,  and  a  clerk  of  the 
Chancery,"  which  seems,  by  the  description,  to 
have  been  the  whole  Bible  "  in  an  English  walnut 
no  bigger  than  a  hen's  egg.  The  nut,"  the  account 
goes  on  to  say,  "holdeth  the  book.  There  are  as 
many  leaves  in  his  little  book  as  the  great  Bible ; 
and  he  hath  written  as  much  in  one  of  his  little 


leaves  as  in  a  great  leaf  of  the  Bible."  It  is 
added  that  this  wonderfully  unreadable  volume 
was  "  seen  by  thousands." 

Prynne's  "  Histrio-Mastix,  the  Player's  Scourge," 
was  printed  "for  Michael  Sparke,  and  sold  at 
the  'Blue  Bible,'  in  Green  Arbour,  in  Littie  Old 
Bailey,  1633."  This  Little  Old  Bailey  was  a  kind 
of  Middle  Row  in  the  Old  Bailey.  It  has  long 
been  removed. 

One  of  the  courts  leading  out  of  the  Old  Bailey 
was  Green  Arbour  Court,  which  ran  from  the  upper 
end  of  the  street  into  Seacoal  Lane.  Here  were 
the  famous  Breakneck  Steps  referred  to  by  Ward 
in  his  "  London  Spy,"  when  he  speaks  of  "  re- 
turning down-stairs  with  as  much  care  and  caution 
of  tumbling  head  foremost  as  he  that  goes  down 
Green  Arbour  Court  steps  in  the  middle  of  winter." 
This  court,  now  destroyed,  was  specially  interesting 
as  »the  residence  of  Oliver  Goldsmith,  about  1758, 
a  time  when  the  poet  was  making  shift  to  exist. 
As  to  his  sojourn  here  we  shall  take  the  liberty  of 
quoting  a  graphic  passage  from  Mr.  John  Forster, 
one  of  the  best  of  Goldsmith's  numerous  bio- 
graphers. 

"  With  part  of  the  money,"  he  says,  "  received 
from  Hamilton" — the  proprietor  of  the  Critical 
Review,  to  which  the  poet  was  at  this  time  con- 
tributing— "he  moved  into  fresh  lodgings;  took 
unrivalled  possession  of  a  fresh  garret,  on  a  first 
floor.-  The  house  was  No.  12,  Green  Arbour 
Court,  Fleet  Street,  between  the  Old  Bailey  and  the 
site  of  Fleet  Market ;  and  stood  in  the  right-hand 
cdrner  of  the  court,  as  the  wayfarer  approached  it 
from  Farringdon  Street  by  the  appropriate  access 
of  '  Breakneck  Steps.'  Green  Arbour  ■  Court  is 
now  gone  for  ever  ;  and  of  its  miserable  wretched- 
ness, for  a  little  time  repld,ced  by  the  more  decent 
comforts  of  a  stable,  not  a  vestige  remains.  The 
houses,  crumbling  and  tumbling  in  Goldsmith's 
day,  were  fairly  rotted  down  some  nineteen  years 
since"  (Mr.  Forster  is  writing  in  1854),  "and  it 
became  necessary,  for  safety  sake,  tO  remove  what 
time  had  spared.  But  Mr.  Washington  Irving  saw 
them  first,  and  with  reverence  had  described  them 
for  Goldsmith's  sake.  Through  alleys,  courts,  and 
blind  passages  traversing  Fleet  Market,  and  thence 
turning  along  a  narrow  street  to  the  bottom  of  a 
long  steep  flight  of  stone  steps,  he  made  good  his  .; 
toilsome  way  up  into  Green  Arbour  Court.  He 
found  it  a  small  square  of  tall  and  miserable  houses, 
the  very  intestines  of  which  seemed  turned  inside 
out,  to  judge  from  the  old  garments  and  frippery 
that  fluttered  from  every  window.  '  It  appeared,' 
he  says,  in  his  '  Tales  of  a  Traveller,'  '  to  be  a 
region  of  washerwomen,  and  lines  were  stretched 


St.  Sepulchre's  Church.] 


GOLDSMITH'S  HOME. 


477 


about  the  little  square,  on  which  clothes  were 
dangling  to  dry.'  The  disputed  right  to  a  wash- 
tub  was  going  on  when  he  entered ;  heads  in 
mob-caps  were  protruded  from  every  window  ;  and 
the  loud  clatter  of  vulgar  tongues  wa,s  assisted  by 
the  shrill  pipe  of  swarming  children,  nestled  and 
cradled  in  every  procreant  chamber  of  the  hive. 
The  whole  scene,  in  short,  was  one  of  whose  un- 
changed resemblance  to  the  scenes  of  former  days 
I  have  since  found  curious  corroboration  in  a 
magazine  engraving  of  the  place  nigh  half  a  cen- 
tury old.*  Here  were  the  tall  faded  houses,  with 
heads  out  of  window  at  every  storey;  the  dirty 
neglected  children  ;  the  bawling  slipshod  women ; 
in  one  corner,  clothes  hanging  to  dry,  and  in 
another  the  cure  of  smoky  chimneys  announced. 
Without  question,  the  same  squalid  squalling 
colony  as  it  then  was,  it  had  been  in  Goldsmith's 
time.  He  would  compromise  with  the  children 
for  occasional  cessation  of  their  noise,  by  occa- 
sional cakes  or  sweetmeats,  or  by  a  tune  upon  his 
flute,  for  which  all  the  court  assembled ;  he  would 
talk  pleasantly  with  the  poorest  of  his  neighbours, 


and  was  long  recollected  to  have  greatly  enjoyed 
the  talk  of  a  working  watchmaker  in  the  court. 
Every  night  he  would  risk  his  neck  at  those  steep 
stone  stairs ;  every  day — for  his  clothes  had  become 
too  ragged  to  submit  to  daylight  scrutiny — he  would 
keep  within  his  dirty,  naked,  unfurnished  room, 
with  its  single  wooden  chair  and  window  bench. 
And  that  was  Goldsmith's  home." 

It  was  in  this  lodging  that  the  poet  received  a 
visit  from  Percy,  then  busily  engaged  in  collecting 
material  for  his  famous  "Reliques  of  English 
Poetry.''  The  grave  church  dignitary  discovered 
Goldsmith  in  his  wretched  room  busily  writing. 
There  being  but  one  chair  it  was,  out  of  civility, 
offered  to  the  visitor,  and  Goldsmith  was  himself 
obliged  to  sit  in  the  window.  Whilst  the  two 
were  sitting  talking  together — Percy  relates  in  his 
memoir — some  one  was  heard  to  rap  gently  at  the 
door,  and  being  desired  to  come  in,  a  poor  ragged 
little  girl  of  very  decent  behaviour  entered,  who, 
dropping  a  curtsey,  said,  "  My  mamma  sends  her 
compliments,  and  begs  the  favour  of  you  to  lend 
her  a  pot-full  of  coals." 


CHAPTER   LV. 
ST.    SEPULCHRE'S    AND    ITS    NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

The  Early  History  of  St.  Sepulchre's— Its  Destruction  in  1666— The  Exterior  and  Interior— The  Early  Popularity  of  tlie  Church— Interments 
here— Roger  Ascham,  the  Author  of  the  "  Schoolmaster  "—Captain  John  Smith,  and  his  Romantic  Adventures- Saved  hy  an  Indian  Girl— 
St.  Sepulchre's  Churchyard— Accommodation  for  a  Murderess— The  Martyr  Rogers— An  Odd  Circumstance— Good  Company  for  the 
Dead— A  Leap  from  the  Tovirer— A  Warning  Bell  and  a  Last  Admonition— Nosegays  for  the  Condemned— The  Route  to  the  Gallows-tree— 
The  Deeds  of  the  Charitable— The  "  Saracen's  Head  "—Description by  Dickens— Giltspur  Street— Giltspur  Street  Compter— A  Disreputable 
Condition— Pie  Comer— Hosier  Lane— A  Spurious  Relic— The  Conduit  on  Snow  Hill— A  Ladies'  Charity  School— Turnagam  Lane— Poor 
Betty  !— A  Schoolmistress  Censured— Skinner  Street— Unpropitious  Fortune— WilUam  Godwin— An  Original  Married  Life. 


Many  interesting  associations — principally,  how- 
ever, connected  with  the  annals  of  crime  and  the 
execution  of  the  laws  of  England — belong  to  the 
Church  of  St.  Sepulchre,  or  St.  'Pulchre.  This 
sacred  edifice — anciently  known  as  St.  Sepulchre's 
in  the  Bailey,  or  by  Chamberlain  Gate  (now  New- 
gate)— stands  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  slight 
acclivity  of  Snow  Hill,  and  between  Smithfield 
and  the  Old  Bailey.  The  genuine  materials 
for  its  early  history  are  scanty  enough.  It  was 
probably  founded  about  the  commencement  of  the 
twelfth  century,  but  of  the  exact  date  and  circum- 
stances of  its  origin  there  is  no  record  whatever. 
Its  name  is  derived  from  the  Holy  Sepulchre  of 
our  Saviour  at  Jerusalem,  to  the  memory  of  which 
it  was  first  dedicated. 

*  See  the  frontispiece  to  vol.   xliii.   of   the   European 
Magazine. 


The  earliest  authentic  notice  of  the  church,  ac- 
cording to  Maitland,  is  of  the  year  1 178,  at  which 
date  it  was  given  by  Roger,  Bishop  of  Sarum,  to 
the  Prior  and  Canons  of  St.  Bartholomew.  These 
held  the  right  of  advowson  until  the^  dissolution  of 
monasteries  by  Henry  VIII.,  and  from  that  time 
until  1 6 10  it  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  Crown. 
James  I.,  however,  then  granted  "  the  rectory  and  its 
appurtenances,  with  the  advowson  of  the  vicarage," 
to  Francis  Phillips  and  others.  The  next  stage  in 
its  history  is  that  the  rectory  was  purchased  by  the 
parishioners,  to  be  held  in  fee-farm  of  the  Crown,  and 
the  advowson  was  obtained  by  the  President  and 
Fellows  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  College,  at  Oxford. 

The  church  was  rebuilt  about  the  middle  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  when  one  of  the  Popham  family, 
who  had  been  Chancellor  of  Normandy  and  Trea- 
surer of  the  King's  Household,  with  distinguished 


478 


OLD   AND    NEW    LONDON. 


fSt.  Sepulchre's  Church. 


liberality  erected  a  handsome  chapel  on  the  south 
side  of  the  choir,  and  the  very  beautiful  porch  still 
remaining  at  the  south-west  corner  of  the  building. 
"  His  image,"  Stow  says,  "  fair  graven  in  stone,  was 
fixed  over  the  said  porch." 

The  dreadful  fire  of  1666  almost  destroyed  St. 
Sepulchre's,  but  the  parishioners  set  energetically 
to  work,  and  it  was  "rebuilt  and  beautified  both 
within  and  without."  The  general  reparation  was 
under  the  direction  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  and 
nothing  but  the  walls  of  the  old  building,  and  these 
not  entirely,  were  suffered  to  remain.  The  work 
was  done  rapidly,  and  the  whole  was  completed 
within  four  years. 

"The  tower,"  says  Mr.  Godwin,  "retained  its 
original  aspect,  and  the  body  of  the  church,  after  its 
restoration,  presented  a  series  of  windows  between 
buttresses,  with  pointed  heads  filled  with  tracery, 
crowned  by  a  string-course  and  batdements.  In 
this  form  it  remained  till  the  year  1790,  when 
it  appears  the  whole  fabric  was  found  to  be 
in  a  state  of  great  decay,  and  it  was  resolved  to 
repair  it  throughout.  Accordingly  the  walls  of  the 
church  were  cased  with  Portland  stone,  and  all  the 
windows  were  taken  out  and  replaced  by  others 
with  plain  semi-circular  heads,  as  now  seen — cer- 
tainly agreeing  but  badly  with  the  tower  and  porch 
of  |he  building,  but  according  with  the  then  pre- 
vailing spirit  of  economy.  The  battlements,  too, 
were  taken  down,  and  a  plain  stone  parapet  was 
substituted,  so  that  at  this  time  (with  the  exception 
of  the  roof,  which  was  *agon-headed,  and  pre- 
sented on  the  outside  an  unsightly  swell,  visible 
above  the  parapet)  the  church  assumed  its  present 
appearance."  The  ungainly  roof  was  removed,  and 
an  entirely  new  one  erected,  about  1836. 

At  each  corner  of  the  tower — "  one  of  the  most 
ancient,"  says  the  author  of  "Londinium  Redi- 
vivum,"  "  in  tlie  outline  of  the  circuit  of  London " 
— there  are  spires,  and  on  the  spires  there  are 
weathercoclcs.  These  have  been  made  use  of  by 
Howell  to  point  a  moral :  "  Unreasonable  people," 
says  he,  "  are  as  hard  to  reconcile  as  the  vanes  of 
St.  Sepulchre's  tower,  which  never  look  all  four 
upon  one  point  of  the  heavens."  Nothing  can  be 
said  with  certainty  as  to  the  date  of  the  tower,  but 
it  is  not  without  the  bounds  of  probability  that  it 
formed  part  of  the  original  building.  The  belfry 
is  reached  by  a  small  winding  staircase  in  the 
south-west  angle,  and  a  similar  staircase  in  an 
opposite  angle  leads  to  the  summit.  The  spires  at 
the  corners,  and  some  of  the  tower  windows,  have 
very  recently  undergone  several  alterations,  which 
have  added  much  to  the  picturesqueness  and 
beauty  of  the  church. 


The  chief  entrance  to  St.  Sepulchre's  is  by  a 
porch  of  singular  beauty,  projecting  from  the  south 
side  of  the  tower,  at  the  western  end  of  the  church. 
The  groining  of  the  ceiling  of  this  porch,  it  has 
been  pointed  out,  takes  an  almost  unique  form  ■ 
the  ribs  are  carved  in  bold  relief,  and  the  bosses  at 
the  intersections  represent  angels'  heads,  shields, 
roses,  &c.,  in  great  variety. 

Coming  now  to  the  interior  of  the  church,  we 
find  it  divided  into  three  aisles,  by  two  ranges  of 
Tuscan  columns.  The  aisles  are  of  unequal  widths, 
that  in  the  centre  being  the  widest,  that  to  the  south 
the  narrowest.  Semi-circular  arches  connect  the 
columns  on  either  side,  springing  directly  from  their 
capitals,  without  the  interposition  of  an  entabla- 
ture, and  support  a  large  dental  cornice,  extendmg 
round  the  church.  The  ceiling  of  the  middle 
aisle  is  divided  into  seven  compartments,  by  hori- 
zontal bands,  the  middle  compartment  being  formed 
into  a  small  dome. 

The  aisles  have  groined  ceilings,  ornamented  at 
the  angles  with  doves,  &c.,  and  beneath  every 
division  of  the  groining  are  small  windows,  to  admit 
light  to  the  galleries.  Over  each  of  the  aisles 
there  is  a  gallery,  very  clumsily  introduced,  which 
dates  from  the  time  when  the  church  was  built  by 
Wren,  and  extends  the  whole  length,  excepting  at 
the  chancel.  The  front  of  the  gallery,  which  is 
of  oak,  is  described  by  Mr.  Godwin  as  carved 
into  scrolls,  branches,  &c.,  in  the  centre  panel,  on 
either  side,  with  the  initials  "  C.  R.,"  enriched  with 
carvings  of  laurel,  which  have,  however,  he  says, 
"  but  little  merit." 

At  the  east  end  of  the  church  there  are  three 
semicircular-headed  windows.  Beneath  the  centre 
one  is  a  large  Corinthian  altar-piece  of  oak,  dis- 
playing columns,  entablatures,  &c.,  elaborately 
carved  and  gilded. 

The  length  of  the  church,  exclusive  of  the  am- 
bulatory, is  said  to  be  126  feet,  the  breadth  68 
feet,  and  the  height  of  the  tower  140  feet. 

A  singularly  ugly  sounding-board,  extending  over 
the  preacher,  used  to  stand  at  the  back  of  the 
pulpit,  at  the  east  end  of  the  church.  It  was 
in  the  shape  of  a  large  paraboUc  reflector,  about 
twelve  feet  in  diameter,  and  was  composed  of  ribs 
of  mahogany. 

At  the  west  end  of  the  church  there  is  a  large 
organ,  said  to  be  the  oldest  and  one  of  the  finest 
in  London.  It  was  built  in  1677,  and  has  been 
greatly  enlarged.  Its  reed-stops  (hautboy,  clarinet, 
&c.)  are  supposed  to  be  unrivalled.  In  New- 
court's  time  the  church  was  taken  notice  of  as  "  re- 
markable for  possessing  an  exceedingly  fine  organ, 
and  the  playing  is  thought  so  beautiful,  that  large 


St,  Sepulchre's  Church.] 


ROGER  ASCHAM. 


479 


congregations  are  attracted,  though  some  of  the 
parishioners  object  to  the  mode  of  performing 
divine  service." 

On  the  north  side  of  the  church,  Mr.  Godwin 
mentions,  is  a  large  apartment  knovtrn  as  "St. 
Stephen's  Chapel."  This  building  evidently  formed 
a  somewhat  important  part  of  the  old  church,  and 
was  probably  appropriated  to  the  votaries  of  the 
saint  whose  name  it  bears. 

Between  the  exterior  and  the  interior  of  the 
church  there  is  little  harmony.  "  For  example," 
says  Mr.  Godwin,  "the  columns  which  form  the 
south  aisle  face,  in  some  instances,  the  centre  of 
the  large  windows  which  occur  in  the  external  wall 
of  the  church,  and  in  others  the  centre  of  the  piers, 
indifferently."  This  discordance  may  likely  enough 
have  arisen  from  the  fact  that  when  the  church  was 
rebuilt,  or  rather  restored,  after  the  Great  Fire, 
the  works  were  done  without  mvich  attention  from 
Sir  Christopher  Wren. 

St.  Sepulchre's  appears  to  have  enjoyed  con- 
siderable popularity  from  the  earliest  period  of  its 
history,  if  one  is  to  judge  from  the  various  sums 
left  by  well-disposed  persons  for  the  support  of 
certain  fraternities  founded  in  the  church — namely, 
those  of  St.  Katherine,  St.  Michael,  St.  Anne,  and 
Our  Lady — and  by  others,  for  the  maintenance 
of  chantry  priests  to  celebrate  masses  at  statgd 
intervals  for  the  good  of  their  souls.  One  of  the 
fraternities  just  named — that  of  St.  Katherine — 
originated,  according  to  Stow,  in  the  devotion  of 
some  poor  persons  in  the  parish,  and  was  in 
honour  of  the  conception  of  the  Virgin  Mary. 
They  met  in  the  church  on  the  day  of  the  Con- 
ception, and  there  had  the  mass  of  the  day,  and 
offered  tdf  the  same,  and  provided  a  certain  chap- 
lain daily  to  celebrate  divine  service,  and  to  set  up 
wax  hghts  before  the  image  belonging  to  the  fra- 
ternity, on  all  festival  days. 

The  most  famous  of  all  who  have  been  interred 
in  St.  Sepulchre's  is  Roger  Ascham,  the  author  of 
the  "  Schoolmaster,"  and  the  instructor  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  in  Greek  and  Latin.  This  learned  old 
worthy  was  bom  in  15 15,  near  Northallerton,  in 
Yorkshire.  He  was  educated  at  Cambridge  Uni- 
versity, and  in  time  rose  to  be  the  university 
orator,  being  notably  zealous  in  promoting  what 
was  then  a  novelty  in  England — the  study  of  the 
Greek  language.  To  divert  himself  after  the  fatigue 
of  severe  study,  he  used  to  devote  himself  to 
■archery.  This  drew  down  upon  him  the  censure 
Of  the  all-work-and-np-play  school;  and  in  defence 
;of  himself,  Ascham,  in  i545)  published  "Toxo- 
philus,"  a  treatise  on  his  favourite  sport.  This 
book  is  even  yet  well  worthy  ofi  penjsa,!,  for  its 


enthusiasm,  and  for  its  curious  descriptions  of  the 
personal  appearance  and  manners  of  the  principal 
persons  whom  the  author  had  seen  and  conversed 
with.  Henry  VIII.  rewarded  him  with  a  pension 
of  ;!f  10  per  annum,  a  considerable  sum  in  those 
days.  In  1548,  Agcham,  on  the  death  of  William 
Grindall,  who  had  been  his  pupil,  was  appointed 
instructor  in  the  learned  languages  to  Lady  Eliza- 
beth, afterwards  the'  good  Queen  Bess.  At  the 
end  of  two  years  he  had  some  dispute  with,  or 
took  a  disgust  at.  Lady  Elizabeth's  attendants,  re- 
signed his  situation,  and  returned  to  his  college. 
Soon  after  this  he  was  employed  as  secretary  to  the 
English  ambassador  at  the  court  of  Charley  V.  of 
Germany,  and  remained  abroad  till  the  death  of 
Edward  VI.  During  his  absence  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed Latin  secretary  to  King  Edward.  Strangely 
enough,  though  Queen  Mary  and  her  ministers  were 
Papists,  and  Ascham  a  Protestant,  he  was  retained 
in  his  office  of  Latin  secretary,  his  pension  was  in- 
creased to  ;^2o,  and  he  was  allowed  to  retain 
his  fellowship  and  his  situation  as  university  orator. 
In  1554  he  married  a  lady  of  good  family,  by  whom 
he  had  a  considerable  fortune,  and  of  whom,  in 
writing  to  a  friend,  he  gives,  as  might  perhaps  be 
expected,  an  excellent  character.  On  the  accession 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  1558,  she  not  only  required 
his  services  as  Latin  secretary,  but  as  her  instructor 
in  Greek,  and  he  resided  at  Court  during  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life.  He  died  in  consequence  of 
his  endeavours  to  complete  a  Latin  poem  which 
he  intended  to  present  to  the  queen  on  the  New 
Year's  Day  of  1569.  He  breathed  his  last  two 
days  before  1568  ran  out,  and  was  interred,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  directions,  in  the  most  private 
manner,  in  St.  Sepulchre's  Church,  his  funeral 
sermon  being  preached  by  Dr.  Andrew  Nowell, 
Dean  of  St.  Paul's.  He  was  universally  lamented ; 
and  even  the  queen  herself  not  only  showed  great 
concern,  but  was  pleased  to  say  that  she  would 
rather  have  lost  ten  thousand  pounds  than  her 
tutor  Ascham,  which,  from  that  somewhat  close- 
handed  sovereign,  was  truly  an  expression  of  high 
regard. 

Ascham,  like  most  men,  had  his  litde  weak- 
nesses. He  had  too  great  a  propensity  to  dice 
and  cock-fighting.  Bishop  Nicholson  would  try  to 
convince  us  that  this  is  an  unfounded  calumny, 
but,  as  it  is  mentioned  by  Camden,  and  other 
contemporary  writers,  it  seems  impossible  to  deny 
it.  He  died,  from  all  accounts,  in  indifferent  cir' 
cumstances.  "  Whether,"  says  Dn  Johnson,  refer- 
ring to  this,  "  Ascham  was  poor  by  his  own  fault, 
or  the  fault  of  others,  cannot  now  be  decided ; 
but  it  is  certain  that  many  have  been  rich  with 


480 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Sepulchre's  Church. 


less  merit.  His  philological  learning  would  have 
gained  him  honour  in  any  country ;  and  among  us  it 
may  justly  call  for  that  reverence  which  all  nations 
owe  to  those  who  first  rouse  them  from  ignorance, 


short  time,  and  with  small  pains,  recover  a  sufficient 
habilitie  to  understand,  write,  and  speak  Latin :  by 
Roger  Ascham,  ann.  1570.  At  London,  printed 
by  John  Daye,  dwelling  over  Aldersgate,"  a  printer. 


goldsmith's  house,  green  arbour  court,  about  i8cx3. 


and  kindle  among  them  the  light  of  literature." 
His  most  vyaluable  work,  "  The  Schoolmaster,"  was 
published  by  his  widow.  The  nature  of  this  cele- 
brated performance  may  be  gathered  from  the  title  : 
"  The  Schoolmaster  ;  or  a  plain  and  perfite  way  of 
teaching  children  to  understand,  write,  and  speak 
the  Latin  tongue.  .  .  .  And  commodious  also 
for  all  such  as  have  forgot  the  Latin  tongue,  and 
would  by  themselves,  without  a  schoolmaster,  in 


by  the  way,  already  mentioned  by  us  a  few  chapters 
back  (see  page  208),  as  having  printed  several  noted 
works  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

Dr.  Johnson  remarks  that  the  instruction  recom- 
mended in  "  The  Schoolmaster"  is  perhaps  the  best 
ever  given  for  the  study  of  languages. 

Here  also  lies  buried  Captain  John  Smith,  a 
conspicuous  soldier  of  fortime,  whose  romantic 
adventures  and  daring  exploits  have  rarely  been 


St.  Sepulchre's  Church.] 


A    SOLDIER    OP    FORTUNE. 


481 


surpassed.  He  died  on  the  21st  of  June,  1631. 
This  valiant  captain  was  born  at  Willoughby,  in 
the  county  of  Lincoln,  and  helped  by  his  doings 
to  enliven  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  James  I. 
He  had  a  share  in  the  wai'S  of  Hungary  in  1602, 
and  in  three  single  combats  overcame  three  Turks, 
and  cut  off  their  heads.  For  this,  and  other 
equally  brave  deeds,  Sigismund,  Duke  of  Transyl- 
vania, gave  him  his  picture  set  in   gold,  with  a 


and  the  saving  of  his  life  by  the  Indian  girl 
Pocahontas,  a  story  of  adventure  that  charms  as 
often  as  it  is  told.  Bancroft,  the  historian  of  the 
United  States,  relates  how,  during  the  early  settle- 
ment of  Virginia,  Smith  left  the  infant  colony  on  an 
exploring  expedition,  and  not  only  ascended  the 
river  Chickahominy,  but  struck  into  the  interior. 
His  companions  disobeyed  his  instructions,  and 
being  surprised  by  the  Indians,  were  put  to  death. 


ST.  SEPULCHRES  CHURCH  IN  1737.     (From  a   View  by  Toms.) 


pension  of  three  hundred  ducats ;  and  allowed  him 
to  bear  three  Turks'  heads  proper  as  his  shield  of 
arms.  He  afterwards  went  to  America,  where  he 
had  the  misfortune  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
Indians.  He  escaped  from  them,  however,  at  last, 
and  resumed  his  brilliant  career  by  hazarding  his 
life  in  naval  engagements  with  pirates  and  Spanish 
men-of-war.  The  most  important  act  of  his  life 
was  the  share  he  had  in  civilising  the  natives 
of  New  England,  and  reducing  that  province  to 
obedience  to  Great  Britain.  In  connection  with 
his  tomb  in  St.  Sepulchre's,  he  is  mentioned  by 
Stow,  in  his  "  Survey,"  as  "  some  time  Governor  of 
Virginia  and  Admiral  of  New  England." 

Certainly  the    most    interesting  events  of  his 
chequered  career  were  his  capture  by  the  Indians, 
89— Vol.  II. 


Smith  preserved  his  own  hfe  by  calmness  and 
self-possession.  Displaying  a  pocket-compass,  he 
amused  the  savages  by  an  explanation  of  its  power, 
and  increased  their  admiration  of  his  superior 
genius  by  imparting  to  them  some  vague  concep- 
tions of  the  form  of  the  earth,  and  the  nature  of  the 
planetary  system.  To  the  Indians,  who  retained 
him  as  their  prisoner,  his  captivity  was  a  more 
strange  event  than  anything  of  which  the  traditions 
of  their  tribes  preserved  the  memory.  He  was 
allowed  to  send  a  letter  to  the  fort  at  Jamestown, 
and  the  savage  wonder  was  increased,  for  he  seemed 
by  some  magic  to  endow  the  paper  with  the  gift  of 
intelligence.  It  was  evident  that  their  captive  was 
a  being  of  a  high  order,  and  then  the  question 
arose.  Was  his  nature  beneficent,  or  was  he  to  be 


fl§2 


OLD  A^ft)  NEW  LONDOlSf. 


[St.  Sepulchre's  Church. 


dreaded  as  a  dangerous  enemy?  Their  minds 
were  bewildered,  and  the  decision  of  his  fate  was 
referred  to  the  chief  Powhatan,  and  before  Pow- 
hatan Smith  was  brought.  "  The  fears  of  the  feeble 
aborigines,"  says  Bancroft,  "were  about  to  prevail, 
and  his  immediate  death,  already  repeatedly 
threatened  and  repeatedly  delayed,  would  have 
been  inevitable,  but  for  the  timely  intercession  of 
Pocahontas,  a  girl  twelve  years  old,  the  daughter  of 
Powhatan, whose  confiding  fondness  Smith  had  easily 
won,  and  who  firmly  clung  to  his  neck,  as  his  head 
was  bowed  down  to  receive  the  stroke  of  the  toma- 
hawks. His  fearlessness,  and  her  entreaties,  per- 
suaded the  council  to  spare  the  agreeable  stranger, 
who  could  make  hatchets  for  her  father,  and  rattles 
and  strings  of  beads  for  herself,  the  favourite  child. 
The  barbarians,  whose  decision  had  long  been  held 
in  suspense  by  the  mysterious  awe  which  Smith 
had  inspired,  now  resolved  to  receive  him  as  a 
friend,  and  to  make  him  a  partner  of  their  councils. 
They  tempted  him  to  join  their  bands,  and  lend 
assistance  in  an  attack  upon  the  white  men  at 
Jamestown;'  and  when  his  decision  of  character 
succeeded  in  changing  the  current  of  their  thoughts, 
they  dismissed  him  with  mutual  promises  of  friend- 
ship and  benevolence.  Thus  the  captivity  of  Smith 
did  itself  become  a  benefit  to  the  colony ;  for  he 
had  not  only  observed  with  care  the  country 
between  the  James  and  the  Potomac,  and  had 
gained  some  knowledge  of  the  language  and 
manners  of  the  natives,  but  he  now  established  a 
peaceful  intercourse  between  the  English  and  the 
tribes  of  Powhatan." 

On  the  monument  erected  to  Smith  in  St.  Sepul- 
chre's Church,  the  following  quaint  lines  were 
formerly  inscribed : — 

"  Here  lies  one  conquered  that  hath  conquered  kings, 
Subdued  large  territories,  and  done  things 
Which  to  the  world  impossible  would  seem, 
But  that  the  truth  is  held  in  more  esteem. 
Shall  I  report  his  former  service  done, 
In  honour  of  his  God,  and  Christendom  ? 
How  that  he  did  divide,  from  pagans  three, 
Their  heads  and  lives,  typea  of  his  chivalry  ? — 
For  which  gfeat  service,  in  that  climate  done^ 
Brave  Sigismuttdus,  King  of  Hungarion, 
Did  give  him,  as  a  coat  of  arms,  to  wear 
These  conquered  heads,  got  by  his  sword  and  spear. 
Or  shall  I  tell  of  his  adventures  since 
Done  in  Virginia,  that  large  continent  ? 
Sow  that  he  subdued  kings  unto  his  yoke, 
And  made  those  heathens  flee,  as  wind  doth  smoke  ; 
And  made  their  lahd,  being  so  large  a  station. 
An  habitation  for  our  Christian  nation. 
Where  God  is  glorified,  their  wants  supplied » 
Which  else.'for  necessaries,  must  have  died. 
But  what  avails  his  conquests,  now  he  lies 
Interred  fin  earth,  a  prey  to  worms  and  flies? 


Oh !  may  his  soul  in  sweet  Elysium  sleep, 
Until  the  Keeper,  that  all  souls  doth  keep, 
Return  to  judgment ;  and  that  after  thence 
With  angels  he  may  have  his  secompense." 

Sir  Robert  Peake,  the  engraver,  also  found  a  last 
resting-place  here.  He  is  known  as  the  master  of 
William  Faithorne — the  famous  English  engraver  of 
the  seventeenth  century — and  governor  of  Basing 
House  for  the  king  during  the  Civil  War  under 
Charles  I.  He  died  in  1667.  Here  also  was 
interred  the  body  of  Dr.  Bell,  grandfather  of  the 
originator  of  a  well-known  system  of  education. 

"The  churchyard  of  St.  Sepulchre's,"  we  learn 
from  Maitland,  "at  one  time  extended  so  far  into 
the  street  on  the  south  side  of  the  church,  as  to 
render  the  passage-way  dangerously  narrow.  In 
1760  the  churchyard  was,  in  consequence,  levelled, 
and  thrown  open  to  the  public.  But  this  led  to 
much  inconvenience,  and  it  was  re-enclosed  in 
1802." 

Sarah  Malcolm,  the  murderess,  was  buried  in  the 
churchyard  of  St.  Sepulchre's  in  1733.  This  cold- 
hearted  and  keen-eyed  monster  in  human  form  has 
had  her  story  told  by  us  already.  The  parishioners 
seem,  on  this  occasion,  to  have  had  no  such 
scruples  as  had  been  exhibited  by  their  predecessors 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  previous  at  the  burial  of 
Awfield,  a  traitor.  We  shall  see  presently  that  in 
those  more  remote  days  they  were  desirous  of 
having  at  least  respectable  company  for  their 
deceased  relatives  and  friends  in  the  churchyard, 

"  For  a  long  period,"  says  Mr.  Godwin  (1838), 
"  the  church  was  surrounded  by  low  mean  buildings, 
by  which  its  general  appearance  was  hidden ;  but 
these  having  been  cleared  away,  and  the  neighbour- 
hood made  considerably  more  open,  St.  Sepulchre's 
now  forms  a  somewhat  pleasing  object,  notwith- 
standing that  the  tower  and  a  part  of  the  porch  are 
so  entirely  dissimilar  in  style  to  the  remainder  of 
the  building."  And  since  Godwin's  writing  the 
surroundings  of  the  church  have  been  so  improved 
that  perhaps  few  buildings  in  the  metropolis  stand 
more  prominently  before  the  public  eye. 

In  the  glorious  roll  of  martyrs  who  have  suffered 
at  the  stake  for  their  religious  principles,  a  vicar  of 
St.  Sepulchre's,  the  Reverend  John  Rogers,  occu- 
pies a  conspicuous  place.  He  was  the  first  who 
was  burned  in  the  reign  of  the  Bloody  Mary.  This 
eminent  person  had  at  one  time  been  chaplain  to 
the  English  merchants  at  Antwerp,  and  while 
residing  in  that  city  had  aided  Tindal  and  Cover' 
dale  in  their  great  Work  of  translating  the  Bible. 
He  married  a  German  lady  of  good  position,  by 
whom  he  had  a  large  family,  and  was  enabled, 
by  means  of  her  relations,  to  reside  in  peace  and 


St  SepuIchre'sChurch.] 


ADVICE  FOR  CONDEMNED   CRIMINALS. 


483 


safety  in  Germany.  It  appeared  to  be  his  duty, 
however,  to  return  to  England,  and  there  publicly 
profess  and  advocate  his  religious  convictions,  even 
at  the  risk  of  death.  He  crossed  the  sea ;  he  took 
his  place  in  the  pulpit  at  St.  Paul's  Cross;  he 
preached  a  fearless  and  animated  sermon,  remind- 
ing his  astonished  audience  of  the  pure  and  whole- 
some doctrine  which  had  been  promulgated  from 
that  pulpit  in  the  days  of  the  good  King  Edward, 
and  solemnly  warning  them ,  against  the  pestilent 
idolatry  and  superstition  of  these  new  times.  It 
was  his  last  sermon.  He  was  apprehended,  tried, 
condemned,  and  burned  at  Smithfield.  We  de- 
scribed, when  speaking  of  Smithfield,  the  manner 
in  which  he  met  his  fate. 

Connected  with  the  martyrdom  of  Rogers  an 
odd  circumstance  is  quoted  in  the  "Churches  of 
London."  It  is  stated  that  when  the  bishops  had 
resolved  to  ■  put  to  death  Joan  Bocher,  a  friend 
came  to  Rogers  and  earnestly  entreated  his  in- 
fluence that  the  poor  woman's  life  might  be  spared, 
and  other  means  taken  to  prevent  the  spread 
of  her  heterodox  doctrines.  Rogers,  hpwever, 
contended  that  she  should  be  executed ;  and  his 
friend  then  begged  him  to  choose  some  other  kind 
of  death,  which  should  be  more  agreeable  to  the 
gentleness  and  mercy  prescribed  in  the  gospel. 
"No,"  replied  Rogers,  "burning  alive  is  not  a 
cruel  death,  but  easy  enough."  His  friend  hearing 
these  words,  expressive  of  so  little  regard  for  the 
sufferings  of  a  fellow-creature,  answered  him  with 
great  vehemence,  at  the  same  time  striking  Rogers' 
hand,  "  Well,  it  may  perhaps  so  happen  that  you 
yourself  shall  have  your  hands  full '  of  this  mild 
burning."  There  is  no  record  of  Rogers  among 
the  papers  belonging  to  St.  Sepulchre's,  but  this 
may  easily  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  at  the 
Great  Fire  of  1666  nearly  all  the  registers  and 
archives  were  destroyed. 

A  noteworthy  incident  in  the  history  of  St. 
Sepulchre's  was  connected  ivith  the  execution,  in 
1585,  of  Awfield,  for  "sparcinge  abrood  certen 
lewed,  sedicious,  and  traytorous  bookes."  "  When 
he  was  executed,"  says  Fleetwood,  the  Recorder, 
in  a  letter  to  Lord  Burleigh,  July  7  th  of  that  year, 
"his  body  was  brought  unto  St.  Pulcher's  to  be 
buryed,  but  the  parishioners  would  not  suffer  a 
traytor's  corpse  to  be  laid  in  the  earth  where  their 
parents,  wives,  children,  kindred,  masters,  and  old 
neighbours  did  rest ;  and  so  his  carcass  was  returned 
to  the  burial-ground  near  Tyburn,  and  there  I 
leave  it." 

Another  event  in  the  history  of  the  church  is 
a  tale  of  suicide.  On  the  loth  of  April,  1600,  a 
man  named  William  Dorrington  threw  himself  from 


the  roof  of  the  tower,  leaving  there  a  prayer  for 
forgiveness. 

We  come  now  to  speak  of  the  connection  of  St. 
Sepulchre's  with  the  neighbouring  prison  of  New- 
gate. Being  the  nearest  church  to  the  prison,  that 
connection  naturally  was  intimate.  Its  clock  served 
to  give  the  time  to  the  hangman  when  there  was 
an  execution  in  the  Old  Bailey,  and  many  a  poor 
wretch's  last  moments  must  it  have  regulated. 

On  the  right-hand  side  of  the  altar  a  board 
with  a  list  of  charitable  donations  and  gifts  used  to 
contain  the  following  item : — "  1605.  Mr.  Robert 
Dowe  gave,  for  >  ringing  the  greatest  bell  in  this 
church  on  the  day  the  condemned  prisoners  are 
executed,  and  for  other  services,  for  ever,  concern- 
ing such  condemned  prisoners,  for  which  services 
the  sexton  is  paid  ^1  6s.  8d. — ;^5o. 

It  was  formerly  the  practice  for  the  clerk  or  bell- 
man of  St.  Sepulchre's  to  go  under  Newgate,  on 
the  night  preceding  the  execution  of  a  criminal, 
ring  his  bell,  and  repeat  the  following  wholesome 
advice : — 

"  All  you  that  in  the  condemned  hold  do  lie, 
Prepare  you,  for  to-morrow  you  shall  die  ; 
Watch  all,  and  pray,  the  hour  is  drawing  near 
That  you  before  the  Almighty  must  appear  ; 
Examine  well  yourselves,  in  time  repent, 
That  you  may  not  to  eternal  flames  be  sent. 
And  when  St.  Sepulchre's  bell  to-morrow  tolls, 
The  Lord  above  have  mercy  on  your  souls. 

Past  twelve  o'clock !" 

This  practice  is  explained  by  a  passage  in  Mun- 
day's  edition  of  Stow,  in  which  it  is  told  that  a  Mr. 
John  Dowe,  citizen  and  merchant  taylor  of  London, 
gave  ;£^o  to  the  parish  church  of  St.  Sepulchre's, 
under  the  following  conditions :— After  the  several 
sessions  of  London,  on  the  night  before  the  execu- 
tion of  such  as  were  condemned  to  death,  the 
clerk  of  the  church  was  to  go  in  the  night-time,  and 
also  early  in  the  morning,  to  the  window  of  the 
prison  in  which  they  were  lying.  He  was  there 
to  ring  "certain  tolls  with  a  hand-bell"  appointed 
for  the  purpose,  and  was  afterwards,  in  a  most 
Christian  manner,  to  put  them  in  mind  of  their 
present  condition  and  approaching  end,  and  to 
exhort  them  to  be  prepared,  as  they  ought  to  be, 
to  die.  When  they  were  in  the  cart,  and  brought 
before  the  walls  of  the  church,  the  clerk  was  to 
stand  there  ready  with  the  same  bell,  and,  after 
certain  tolls,  rehearse  a  prayer,  desiring  all  the 
people  there  present  to  pray  for  the  unfortunate 
criminals.  The  beadle,  also,  of  Merchant  Taylors' 
Hall  was  allowed  an  "  honest  stipend  "  to  see  that 
this  ceremony  was  regularly  performed. 

The  affecting  admonition— "  affectingly  good," 
Pennant  calls  it— addressed  to  the  prisoners  in 


484 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Sepulchre's  Church. 


Newgate,  on  the  night  before  execution,  ran  as 
foUows : — 

"  You  prisoners  that  are  within, 
Who,  for  wickedness  and  sin, 

after  many  mercies  shown  you,  are  now  appointed 
to  die  to-morrow  in  the  forenoon;  give  ear  and 
understand  that,  to-morrow  morning,  the  greatest 
bell  of  St.  Sepulchre's  shall  toll  for  you,  in  form  and 
manner  of  a  passing-bell,  as  used  to  be  tolled  for 
those  that  are  at  the  point  of  death ;  to  the  end 
that  all  godly  people,  hearing  that  bell,  and  know- 
ing it  is  for  your  going  to  your  deaths,  may  be 
stirred  up  heartily  to  pray  to  God  to  bestow  his 
grace  and  mercy  upon  you,  whilst  you  live.  I 
beseech  you,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  to  keep  this 
night  in  watching  and  prayer,  to  the  salvation  of 
your  own  souls  while  there  is  yet  time  and  place 
for  mercy ;  as  knowing  to-morrow  you  must  appear 
before  the  judgment-seat  of  your  Creator,  there  to 
give  an  account  of  all  things  done  in  this  life,  and 
to  suffer  eternal  torments  for  your  sins  committed 
against  Him,  unless,  upon  your  hearty  and  un- 
feigned repentance,  you  find  mercy  through  the 
merits,  death,  and  passion  of  your  only  Mediator 
and  Advocate,  Jesus  Christ,  who  now  sits  at  the 
right  hand  of  God,  to  make  intercession  for  as 
many  of  you  as  penitently  return  to  Him." 

And  the  following  was  the  admonition  to  con- 
demned criminals,  as  they  were  passing  by  St. 
Sepulchre's  Church  wall  to  execution  : — "  All  good 
people,  pray  heartily  unto  God  for  these  poor 
sinners,  who  are  now  going  to  their  death,  for 
whom  this  great  bell  doth  toll. 

"You  that  are  condemned  to  die,  repent  with 
lamentable  tears ;  ask  mercy  of  the  Lord,  for  the 
salvation  of  your  own  souls,  through  the  ;merits, 
deathj  and  passion  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  now  sits 
at  the  right  hand  of  God,  to  make  intercession  for 
as  many  of  you  as  penitently  return  unto  Him. 

"  Lord  have  mercy  upon  you  ; 
Christ  have  mercy  upon  you. 
Lord  have  mercy  upon  you ; 
Christ  have  mercy  upon  you.'' 

The  charitable  Mr.  Dowe,  who  took  such  interest 
in  the  last  moments  of  the  Occupants  of  the  con- 
demned cell,  was  buried  in  the  church  of  St. 
Botolph,  Aldgate. 

Another  curious  custom  observed  at  St.  Sepul- 
chre's was  the  presentation  of  a  nosegay  to  every 
criminal  on  his  way  to  execution  at  Tyburn.  No 
doubt  the  practice  had  its  origin  in  some  kindly 
feeling  for  the  poor  unfortunates  who  were  so  soon 
to  bid  farewell  to  all  the  beauties  of  earth.  One 
of  the  last  who  received  a  nosegay  from  the  steps 
of  St.  Sepulchre's  was  "  Sixteen-string  Jack,"  alias 


John  Rann,  who  was  hanged,  in  1774,  for  robbing 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Bell  of  his  watch  and  eighteen  pence 
in  money,  in  Gunnersbury  Lane,  on  the  road  to 
Brentford.  Sixteen-string  Jack  wore  the  flowers  in 
his  button-hole  as  he  rode  dolefully  to  the  gallows. 
This  was  witnessed  by  John  Thomas  Smith,  who 
thus  describes  the  scene  in  his  admirable  anecdote- 
book,  "  NoUekens  and  his  Times  :" — "  I  remember 
well,  when  I  was  in  my  eighth  year,  Mr.  NoUekens 
calling  at  my  father's  house,  in  Great  Portland 
Street,  and  taking  us  to  Oxford  Street,  to  see  the 
notorious  Jack  Rann,  commonly  called  Sixteen- 
string  Jack,  go  to  Tyburn  to  be  hanged.  .  .  . 
The  criminal  was  dressed  in  a  pea-green  coat,  with 
an  immense  nosegay  in  the  button-hole,  which  had 
been  presented  to  him  at  St.  Sepulchre's  steps; 
and  his  nankeen  small-clothes,  we  were  told,  were 
tied  at  each  knee  with  sixteen  strings.  After  he 
had  passed,  and  Mr.  NoUekens  was  leading  me 
home  by  the  hand,  I  recollect  his  stooping  down 
to  me  and  observing,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice, '  Tom, 
now,  my  little  man,  if  my  father-in-law,  Mr.  Justice 
Welch,  had  been  high  constable,  we  could  have 
walked  by  the  side  of  the  cart  all  the  way  to 
Tyburn.'" 

When  criminals  were  conveyed  from  Newgate  to 
Tyburn,  the  cart  passed  up  Giltspur  Street,  and 
through  Smithfield,  to  Cow  Lane.  Skinner  Street 
had  not  then  been  built,  and  the  Crooked  Lane 
which  turned  down  by  St.  Sepulchre's,  as  weU  as 
Ozier  Lane,  did  not  afford  sufficient  width  to  admit 
of  the  cavalcade  passing  by  either  of  them,  with 
convenience,  to  Holbom  Hill,  or  "the  Heavy  Hill," 
as  it  used  to  be  called.  The  procession  seems  at 
no  time  to  have  had  much  of  the  solemn  element 
about  it.  "The  heroes  of  the  day  were  often," 
says  a  popular  writer,  "  on  good  terms  with  the 
mob,  and  jokes  were  exchanged  between  the  men 
who  were  going  to  be  hanged  and  the  men  who 
deserved  to  be." 

"On  St.  Paul's  Day,"  says  Mr.  Timbs  (1868), 
"  service  is  performed  in  St.  Sepulchre's,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  will  of  Mr.  Paul  Jervis,  who,  in 
17 1 7,  devised  certain  land  in  trust  that  a  sermon 
should  be  preached  in  the  church  upon  every 
Paul's  Day  upon  the  excellence  of  the  liturgy  o 
the  Church  of  England ;  the  preacher  to  receive 
40s.  for  such  sermon.  Various  sums  are  also 
bequeathed  to  the  curate,  the  clerk,  the  treasurer, 
and  masters  of  the  parochial  schools.  To  the  poor 
of  the  parish  he  bequeathed  20s.  a-piece  to  ten  of 
the  poorest  householders  within  that  part  of  the 
parish  of  St.  Sepulchre  commonly  caUed  Smithfield 
quarter,  J^/\,  to  the  treasurer  of  St.  Bartholomew's 
Hospital,  and  6s.   8d.  yearly  to  the  clerk,  who 


St.  Sepulchre's  Church.] 


THE  FAMOUS   "SARACEN'S  HEAD." 


485 


shall  attend  to  receive  the  same.  The  residue  of 
the  yearly  rents  and  profits  is  to  be  distributed 
unto  and  amongst  such  poor  people  of  the  parish 
of  St.  Sepulchre's,  London,  who  shall  attend- the 
service  and  sermon.  At  the  close  of  the  service 
the  vestry-clerk  reads  aloud  an  extract  from  th6 
will,  and  then  proceeds  to  the  distribution  of  the 
money.  In  the  evening  the  vicar,  churchwardens, 
and  common  councilmen  of  the  precinct  dine 
together." 

In  1749,  a  Mr.  Drinkwater  made  a  praiseworthy 
bequest.  He  left  the  parish  of  St.  Sepulchre  ^500 
to  be  lent  in  sums  of  ^1^2  5  to  industrious  young 
tradesmen.  No  interest  was  to  be  charg'ed,  and 
the  money  was  to  be  lent  for  four  years. 

Next  to  St.  Sepulchre's,  on  Snow  Hill,  used  to 
stand  the  famous  old  inn  of  the  "  Saracen's  Head." 
It  was  only  swept  away  within  the  last  few  years 
by  the  ruthless  army  of  City  improvers :  a  view 
of  it  in  course  of  demolition  was  given  on  page 
439.  It  was  one  of  the  oldest  of  the  London  inns 
which  bore  the  "  Saracen's  Head  "  for  a  sign.  One 
of  Dick  Tarlton's  jests  makes  mention  of  the  "  Sara- 
cen's Head"  without  Newgate,  and  Stow,  describing 
this  neighbourhood,  speaks  particularly  of  "  a  fair 
large  inn  for  receipt  of  travellers"  that  "hath  to 
sign  the  '  Saracen's  Head.' "  The  courtyard  had, 
to  the  last,  many  of  the  characteristics  of  an  old 
EngUsh  inn ;  there  were  galleries  all  round  leading 
to  the  bedrooms,  and  a  spacious  gateway  through 
which  the  dusty  mail-coaches  used  to  rumble,  the 
tired  passengers  creeping  forth  "thanking  their 
stars  in  having  escaped  the  highwaymen  and  the 
holes  and  sloughs  of  the  road."  Into  that  court- 
yard how  many  have  come  on  their  first  arrival  in 
London  with  hearts  beating  high  with  hope,  some 
of  whom  have  risen  to  be  aldermen  and  sit  in  state 
as  lord  mayor,  whilst  others  have  gone  the  way 
of  the  idle  apprentice  and  come  to  a  sad  end  at 
Tyburn !  It  was  at  this  inn  that  Nicholas  Nickleby 
and  his  uncle  waited  upon  the  Yorkshire  school- 
master Squeers,  of  Dotheboys  Hall.  Mr.  Dickens 
describes  the  tavern  as  it  existed  in  the  last  days 
of  mail-coaching,  when  it  was  a  most  important 
place  for  arrivals  and  departures  in  London  : — 

"Next  to  the  jail,  and  by  consequence  near  to 
Smithfield  also,  and  the  Compter  and  the  bustle 
and  noise  of  the  City,  and  just  on  that  particular 
part  of  Snow  Hill  where  omnibus  horses  going 
eastwards  seriously  think  of  falling  down  on  pur- 
pose, and  where  horses  in  hackney  cabriolets  going 
westwards  not  unfrequently  fall  by  accident,  is  the 
coach-yard  of  the  '  Saracen's  Head '  inn,  its  portals 
guarded  by  two  Saracen's  heads  and  shoulders, 
which  it  was  once  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  choice 


spirits  of  this  metropolis  to  pull  down  at  night,  but 
which  have  for  some  time  remained  in  undisturbed 
tranquillity,  possibly  because  this  species  of  humour 
is  now  confined  to  St.  James's  parish,  where  door- 
knockers are  preferred  as  being  more  portable,  and 
bell-wires  esteemed  as  convenient  tooth-picks. 
Whether  this  be  the  reason  or  not,  there  they  are, 
frowning  upon  you  from  each  side  of  the  gateway ; 
and  the  inn  itself,  garnished  with  another  Saracen's 
head,  frowns  upon  you  from  the  top  of  the  yard ; 
while  from  the  door  of  the  hind-boot  of  all  the  red 
coaches  that  are  standing  therein,  there  glares  a 
small  Saracen's  head  with  a  twin  expression  to  the 
large  Saracen's  head  below,  so  that  the  general 
appearance  of  the  pile  is  of  the  Saracenic  order." 

To  explain  the  use  of  the  Saracen's  head  as  an 
inn  sign  various  reasons  have  been  given.  "  When 
our  countrymen,"  says  Selden,  "  came  home  from 
fighting  with  the  Saracens  and  were  beaten  by 
them,  they  pictured  them  with  huge,  big,  terrible 
faces  (as  you  still  see  the  'Saracen's  Head'  is), 
when  in  truth  they  were  like  other  men.  But  this 
they  did  to  save  their  own  credit."  Or  the  sign 
may  have  been  adopted  by  those  who  had  visited 
the  Holy  Land  either  as  pilgrims  or  to  fight  the 
Saracens.  Others,  again,  hold  that  it  was  first 
set  up  in  compliment  to  the  mother  of  Thomas  h 
Becket,  who  was  the  daughter  of  a  Saracen.  How- 
ever this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  the  use  of  the 
sign  in  former  days  was  very  general. 

Running  past  the  east  end  of  St.  Sepulchre's,  from 
Newgate  into  West  Smithfield,  is  Giltspur  Street, 
anciently  called  Knightriders  Street.  This  interest- 
ing thoroughfare  derives  its  name  from  the  knights 
with  their  gilt  spurs  having  been  accustomed  ito 
ride  this  way  to  the  jousts  and  tournaments  which 
in  days  of  old  were  held  in  Smithfield. 

In  this  street  was  Giltspur  Street  Compter,  a 
debtors'  prison  and  house  of  correction  appertain- 
ing to  the  sheriffs  of  London  and  Middlesex.  It 
stood  over  against  St.  Sepulchre's  Church,  and  was 
removed  hither  from  the  east  side  of  Wood  Street, 
Cheapside;  in  179 1.  At  the  time  of  its  removal  it 
was  used  as  a  place  of  imprisonment  for  debtors, 
but  the  yearly  increasing  demands  upon  the  con- 
tracted space  caused  that  department  to  be  given 
up,  and  City  debtors  were  sent  to  Whitecross 
Street.  The  architect  was  Dance,  to  whom  we  are 
also  indebted  for  the  grim  pile  of  Newgate.  The 
Compter  was  a  dirty  and  appropriately  convict- 
looking  edifice.  It  was  pulled  down  in  1855.  Mr. 
Hepworth  Dixon  gave  an  interesting  account  of  this 
City  House  of  Correction,  not  long  before  its  demo- 
lition, in  his  "London  Prisons"  (1850).  "Enter- 
ing," he  says,  "  at  the  door  facing  St.  Sepulchre's, 


486 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Neighbourhood  of 


the  visitor  suddenly  finds  himself  in  a  low  dark 
passage,  leading  into  the  offices  of  the 'gaol,  and 
branching  off  into  other  passages,  darker,  closer, 
more  replete  with  noxious  smells,  than  even  those 
of  Newgate.  This  is  the  fitting  prelude  to  what 
follows.    The  prison,  it  must  be  noticed,  is  divided 


on  Christ's  Hospital.  Curious  it  is  to  consider 
how  thin  a  wall  divides  these  widely-separate 
worlds  !  And  sorrowful  it  is  to  think  what  a  differ- 
ence of  destiny  awaits  the  children — destiny  inex- 
orable, though  often  unearned  in  either  case — ^who, 
on  the  one  side  of  it  or  the  other,  receive  an  elee- 


PORCH   OF  ST.   sepulchre's   CHURCH. 


into  two  principal  divisions,  the  House  of  Correc- 
tion and  the  Compter.  The  front  in  Giltspur 
Street,  and  the  side  nearest  to  Newgate  Street,  is 
called  the  Compter.  In  its  wards  are  placed 
detenues  of  various  kinds — remands,  committals 
from  the  police-courts,  and  generally  persons  wait- 
ing for  trial,  and  consequently  still  unconvicted. 
The  other  department,  the  House  of  Correction, 
occupies  the  back  portion  of  the  premises,  abutting 


mosynary  education  !  The  collegian  and  the  cri- 
minal !  Who  shall  say  how  much  mere  accident — 
circumstances  over  which  the  child  has  little  power 
— determines  to  a  life  of  usefulness  or  mischief? 
From  the  yards  of  Giltspur  Street  prison  almost 
the  only  objects  visible,  outside  of  the  gaol  itself, 
are  the  towers  of  Christ's  Hospital;  the  only 
sounds  audible,  the  shouts  of  the  scholars  at  their 
play.     The  balls  of  the  hospital  boys  often  fall 


St.  Sepulchre's.] 


AN   ILL-MANAGED   PRISON. 


487 


within  the  yards  of  the  prison.  Whether  these 
sights  and  sounds  ever  cause  the  criminal  to  pause 
and  reflect  upon  the  courses  of  his  life,  we  will  not 
say,  but  the  stranger  visiting  the  place  will  be 
very  apt  to  think  for  him.     .     .     . 

"  In  the  department  of  the  prison  called  the 
House  of  Correction,  minor  offenders  within  the 
City  of  London  are  imprisoned.  No  transports 
are  sent  hither,  nor  is  any  person  whose  sentence 
is  above  three  years  in  length."    This  able  writer 


A  large  section  of  the  prison  used  to  be  devoted 
to  female*  delinquents,  but  lately  it  was  almost 
entirely  given  up  to  male  offenders. 

"The  House  of  Correction,  and  the  Compter 
portion  of  the  establishment,"  says  Mr.  Dixon,  "are 
kept  quite  distinct,  but  it  would  be  difficult  to  award 
the  ;palm  of  empire  in  their  respective  facilities 
for  demoralisation.  We  think  the  Compter  rather 
the  worse  of  the  two.'  You  are  shown  into  a  room, 
about  the   size  of  an  apartment  in  an  ordinary 


fr 


r* 


K      -Si 


GILTSPUR  STREET   COMPTER,    184O. 


then  goes  on  to  tell  of  the  many  crying  evils  con- 
nected with  the  institution— the  want  of  air,  the 
over-crowded  state  of  the  rooms,  the  absence  of 
proper  cellular  accommodation,  and  the  vicious 
intercourse  carried  on  amongst  the  prisoners.  The 
entire  gaol,  when  he  wrote,  only  contained  thirty- 
six  separate  sleeping-rooms.  Now  by  the  highest 
prison  calculation— and  this,  be  it  noted,  proceeds 
on  the  assumption  that  three  persons  can  sleep  in 
small,  miserable,  unventilated  cells,  which  are  built 
for  only  one,  and  are  too  confined  for  that,  being 
only  about  one-half  the  size  of  the  model  cell  for 
one  at  Pentonville— it  was  only  capable  of  accom- 
modating 203  prisoners,  yet  by  the  returns  issued 
at  Michaelmas,  1850,  it  contained  246  ! 


dwelling-house,  which  will  be  found  crowded  with 
from  thirty  to  forty  persons,  young  and  old,  and  in 
their  ordinary  costume ;  the  low  thief  in  his  filth 
and  rags,  and  the  member  of  the  swell-mob  with  his 
bright  buttons,  flash  finery,  and  false  jewels.  Here 
you  notice  the  boy  who  has  just  been  guilty  of  his 
first  offence,  and  committed  for  trial,  learning  with 
a  greedy  mind  a  thousand  criminal  arts,  and  listen- 
ing with  the  precocious  instinct  of  guilty  passions 
to  stories  and  conversations  the  most  depraved  and 
disgusting.  You  regard  him  with  a  mixture  of  pity 
and  loathing,  for  he  knows  that  the  eyes  of  his 
peers  are  upon  him,  and  he  stares  at  you  with  a 
familiar  impudence,  and  exhibits  a  devil-may-care 
countenance,  such  as  is  only  to  be  met  with  in  the 


488 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Neighbourhood  of 


juvenile  offender.  Here,  too,  may  be  seen  the 
young  clerk,  taken  up  on  suspicion — perhaps  inno- 
cent— who  avoids  you  with  a  shy  look  of  pain  and 
uneasiness :  what  a  hell  must  this  prison  be  to 
him!  How  frightful  it  is  to  think  of  a  person 
really  untainted  with  crime,  compelled  to  herd  for 
ten  or  twenty  days  with  these  abandoned  wretches  ! 

"On  the  other,  the  House  of  Correction  side 
of  the  gaol,  similar  rooms  will  be  found,  full  of 
prisoners  communicating  with  each  other,  laughing 
and  shouting  without  hindrance.  All  this  is  so 
little  in  accordance  with  existing  notions  of  prison 
discipline,  that  one  is  continually  fancying  these 
disgraceful  scenes  cannot  be  in  the  capital  of 
England,  and  in  the  year  of  grace  1850.  Very 
few  of  the  prisoners  attend  school  or  receive  any 
instruction;  neither  is  any  kind  of  employment 
afforded  them,  except  oakum-picking,  and  the  still 
more  disgusting  labour  of  the  treadmill.  When  at 
work,  an  officer  is  in  attendance  to  prevent  dis- 
orderly conduct ;  but  his  presence  is  of  no  avail 
as  a  protection  to  the  less  depraved.  Conversa- 
tion still  goes  on  ;  and  every  facility  is  afforded  for 
making  acquaintances,  and  for  mutual  contamina- 
tion." 

After  having  long  been  branded  by  intelligent 
inspectors  as  a  disgrace  to  the  metropolis,  Giltspur 
Street  Compter  was  condemned,  closed  in  1854, 
and  subsequently  taken  down. 

Nearly  opposite  what  used  to  be  the  site  of  the 
Compter,  and  adjoining  Cock  Lane,  is  the  spot 
called  Pie  Cbrner,  near  whidi  terminated  the  Great 
Fire  of  1666.  The  fire  commenced  at  Pudding 
Lane,  it  will  be  remembered,  so  it  was  singularly 
appropriate  that  it  should  terminate  at  Pie  Corner. 
Under  the  date  of  4th  September,  1666,  Pepys,  in 
his  "Diary,"  records  that  "W.  Hewer  this  day 
went  to  see  how  his  mother  did,  and  comes  home 
late,  telling  us  how  he  hath  been  forced  to  remove 
her  to  Islington,  her  house  in  Pye  Comer  being 
burned ,  so  that  the  fire  is  got  so  far  that  way." 
The  figure  of  a  fat  naked  boy  stands  over  a  public 
house  at  the  corner  of  the  lane ;  it  used  to  have  the 
following  warning  inscription  attached  : — "  This 
boy  is  in  memory  put  up  of  the  late  fire  of  London, 
occasioned  by  the  sin  of  gluttony,  1666."  Accord- 
ing to  Stow,  Pie  Corner  derived  its  name  from  the 
sign  of  a  well-frequented  hostelry,  which  anciently 
stood  on  the  spot.  Strype  makes  honourable  men- 
tion of  Pie  Corner,  as  "noted  chiefly  for  cooks' 
shops  and  pigs  dressed  there  during  Bartholomew 
Fair."  Our  old  writers  have  many  references — and 
not  all,  by  the  way,  in  the  best  taste — to  its  cook- 
stalls  and  dressed  pork.  Shadwell,  for  instance,  in 
the  Woman  Captain  (1680)  speaks  of  "nieat  dressed 


at  Pie  Corner  by  greasy  scullions ;"  and  Ben  Jonson 
writes  in  the  Alchemist  (161 2) — 

"  I  shall  put  you  rn  mind,  sir,  at  Pie  Comer, 
Taking  your  meal  of  steam  in  from  cooks'  stalls." 

And  in  "The  Great  Boobee"  ("Roxburgh  Ballads"): 

"Next  day  I  through  Pie  Corner  passed ; 
The  roast  meat  on  the  stall 
Invited  me  to  take  a  taste ; 
My  money  was  but  small." 

But  Pie  Comer  seems  to  have  been  noted  for  more 
than  eatables.  A  ballad  from  Tom  D'Urfey's 
"  Pills  to  Purge  Melancholy,"  describing  Bartholo- 
mew Fair,  eleven  years  before  the  Fire  of  London, 
says  i- — 

"At  Pie-Comer  end,  mark  well  my  good  friend, 
'Tis  a  very  fine  dirty  place ; 
Where  there's  more  arrows  and  bows.     .    .    . 
Than  was  handled  at  Chivy  Chase." 

We  have  already  given  a  view  of  Pie  Corner  in 
our  chapter  on  Smithfield,  page  361. 

Hosier  Lane,  running  from  Cow  Lane  to  Smith- 
field,  and  almost  parallel  to  Cock  Lane,  is  described 
by  "  R.  B./'  in  Strype,  as  a  place  not  over-\(^ell  built 
or  inhabited.  The  houses  were  all  old  timber 
erections.  Some  of  these — those  standing  at  the 
south  corner  of  the  lane — were  in  the  beginning  of 
this  century  depicted  by  Mr.  J.  T.  Smith,  in  his 
"  Ancient  Topography  of  London."  He  describes 
them  as  probably  of  the  reign  of  James  I.  The 
rooms  were  small,  with  low,  uhornamented  ceilings; 
the  timber,  oak,  profusely  used;  the  gables  were 
plain,  and  the  walls  lath  and  plaster.  They  were 
taken  down  in  1809. 

In  the  comer  house,  in  Mr.  Smith's  time,  there 
was  a  barber  whose  name  was  Catchpole ;  at  least, 
so  it  was  written  over  the  door.  He  was  rather  an 
odd  fellow,  and  possessed,  according  to  his  own 
account,  a  famous  relic  of  antiquity.  He  would 
gravely  show  his  customers  a  short-bladed  instm- 
ment,  as  the  identical  dagger  with  which  Walworth 
killed  Wat  Tyler. 

Hosier  Lane,  like  Pie  Comer,  used  to  be  a 
great  resort  during  the  time  of  Bartholomew  Fair, 
"all  the  houses,"  it  is  said  in  Strype,  "generally 
being  made  public  for  tippling." 

We  return  now  from  our  excursion  to  the  north 
of  St.  Sepulchre's,  and  continue  our  rambles  to  the 
west,  and  before  speaking  of  what  is,  let  us  refer 
to  what  has  been. 

Turnagain  Lane  is  not  far  from  this.  "  Near 
unto  this  Seacoal  Lane,"  remarks  Stow,  "in  the 
turning  towards  Holborn  Conduit,  is  Turnagain 
Lane,  or  rather,  as  in  a  record  of  the  Sth  of 
Edward  III.,  Windagain  Lane,  for  that  it  goeth 
down  west  to  Fleet  Dyke,  from  whence  men  must 


St.  Sepulchre's.]! 


POOR  BETTY! 


489 


turn  again  the  same  way  they  came,^  but  there  it 
stopped."  There  used  to  be  a  proverb,  "  He  must 
take  him  a  house  in  Tumagain  Lane." 

A  conduit  formerly  stood  on  Snow  Hill,  a  little 
below  the  church.  It  is  described  as  a  building 
with  four  equal  sides,  ornamented  with  four  columns 
and  f)ediment,  surmounted  by  a  pyramid,  on  which 
stood  a  lamb — a  rebus  on  the  name  of  Lamb,  from 
whose  conduit  in  Red  Lion  Street  the  water  came. 
There  had  been  a  conduit  there,  however,  before 
Lamb's  day,  which  was  towards  the  close  of  the 
sixteenth  century. 

At  No.  37,  King  Street,  Snow  Hill,  there  used  to 
be  a  ladies'  charity  school,  which  was  established 
in  1702,  and  ranained  in  the  parish  145  years. 
Dr.  Johnson  and  Mrs.  Thrale  were  subscribers  to 
this  school,  and  Johnson  drew  from  it  his  story 
of  Betty  Broom,  in  "  The  Idler."  The  world  of 
domestic  service,  in  Betty's  days,  seems  to  have 
been  pretty  much  as  now.  Betty  was  a  poor  girl, 
bred  in  the  country  at  a  charity-school,  maintained 
by  the  contributions  of  wealthy  neighbours.  The 
patronesses  visited  the  school  from  time  to  time,  to 
see  how  the  pupils  got  on,  and  everything  went 
well,  till  "at  last,  the  chief  of  the  subscribers  having 
passed  a  winter  in  London,  came  down  full  of  an 
opinion  new  and  strange  to  the  whole  country. 
She  held  it  little  less  than  criminal  to  teach  poor 
girls  to  read  and  write.  They  who  are  born  to 
poverty,  she  said,  are  born  to  ignorance,  and  will 
work  the  harder  the  less  they  know.  She  told  her 
friends  that  London  was  in  confusion  by  the  inso- 
lence of  servants ;  that  scarcely  a  girl  could  be  got 
for  all-work,  since  education  had  made  such  num- 
bers of  fine  ladies,  that  nobody  would  now  accept 
a  lower  title  than  that  of  a  waiting-maid,  or  some- 
thing that  might  quahfy  her  to  wear  laced  shoes 
and  long  ruffles,  and  to  sit  at  work  in  the  parlour 
window.  But  she  was  resolved,  for  her  part,  to 
spoil  no  more  girls.  Those  who  were  to  live  by 
their  hands  should  neither  read  nor  write  out  of 
her  pocket.  The  world  was  bad  enough  already, 
and  she  would  have  no  part  in  making  it  worse. 

"  She  was  for  a  long  time  warmly  opposed ;  but 
she  persevered  in  her  notions,  and  withdrew  her 
subscription.  Few  listen,  without  a  desire  of  con- 
viction, to  those  who  advise  them  to  spare  their 
money.  Her  example  and  her  arguments  gained 
ground  daily;  and  in  less  than  a  year  the  whole 
parish  was  convinced  that  the  nation  would  be 
ruined  if  the  children  of  the  poor  were  taught  to 
read  and  write."  So  the  school  was  dissolved,  and 
Betty  with  the  rest  was  turned  adrift  into  the  wide 
and  cold  world ;  and  her  adventures  there  any  one 
may  read  in  "  The  Idler"  for  himself. 


There  is  an  entry  in  the  school  minutes  of  1763, 
to  the  effect  that  the  ladies  of  the  committee  cen- 
sured the  schoolmistress  for  listening  to  the  story 
of  the  Cock  Lane  ghost,  and  "  desired  her  to  keep 
her  belief  in  the  article  to  herself." 

Skinner  Street — now  one  of  the  names  of  the 
past — which  ran  by  the  south  side  of  St.  Sepulchre's, 
and  formed  the  connecting  link  between  Newgate 
Street  and  Holbom,  received  its  name  from  Alder- 
man Skinner,  through  whose  exertions ,  about  1802, 
it  was  principally  built.  The  following  account  of 
Skinner  Street  is  from  the  picturesque  pen  of  Mr. 
William  Harvey  ("  Aleph"),  whose  long  familiarity 
with  the  places  he  describes  renders  doubly  valuable 
his  many  contributions  to  the  history  of  London 
scenes  and  people : — "As  a  building  speculation," 
he  says,  writing  in  1863,  "it  was  a  failure.  When 
the  buildings  were  ready  for  occupation,  tall  and 
substantial  as  they  really  were,  the  high  rents  fright- 
ened intending  shopkeepers.  Tenants  were  not  to 
be  had ;  and  in  order  to  get  over  the  money  diffi- 
culty, a  lottery,  sanctioned  by  Parliament,  was  com- 
menced. Lotteries  were  then  common  tricks  of 
finance,  and  nobody  wondered  at  the  new  venture ; 
but  even  the  most  desperate  fortune-hunters  were 
slow  to  invest  their  capital,  and  the  tickets  hung 
sadly  on  hand.  The  day  for  the  drawing  was  post- 
poned several  times,  and  when  it  came,  there  was 
little  or  no  excitement  on  the  subject,  and  who- 
ever rejoiced  in  becoming  a  house-owner  on  such 
easy  terms,  the  original  projectors  and  buildfers 
were  understood  to  have  suffered  considerably. 
The  winners  found  the  property  in  a  very  unfinished 
condition.  Few  of  the  dwellings  were  habitable, 
and  as  funds  were  often  wanting,  a  majority  of  the 
houses  remained  empty,  and  the  shops  unopened. 
After  two  or  three  years  things  began  to  improve ; 
the  vast  many-storeyed  house  which  then  covered 
the  site  of  Commercial  Place  was  converted  into  a 
warehousing  depot;  a  capital  house  opposite  the 
'Saracen's  Head'  was  taken  by  a  hosier  of  the 
name  of  Theobald,  who,  opening  his  shop  with 
the  determination  of  selling  the  best  hosiery,  and 
nothing  else,  was  able  to  convince  the  citizens  that 
his  hose  was  first-rate,  and,  desiring  only  a  living 
profit,  succeeded,  after  thirty  years  of  unwearied 
industry,  in  accumulating  a  large  fortune.  Theo- 
bald was  possessed  of  literary  tastes,  and  at  the 
sale  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  manuscripts  was  a  liberal 
purchaser.  He  also  collected  a  library  of  exceed- 
ingly choice  books,  and  when  aristocratic  customers 
purchased  stockings  of  him,  was  soon  able  to 
interest  them  in  matters  of  far  higher  interest.     .     . 

"  The  most  remarkable  shop — ^but  it  was  on  the 
left-hand  side, 'at  a  corner  .house — was  that  esta- 


490 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Neighbourhood  of  St  Sepulchre's 


blished  for  the  sale  of  children's  books.  It  boasted 
an  immense  extent  of  window-front,  extending 
from  the  entrance  into  Snow  Hill,  and  towards 
Fleet  Market.  Many  a  time  have  I  lingered  with 
loving  eyes  over  those  fascinating  story-books,  so 
rich  in  gaily-coloured  prints ;  such  careful  editions 
of  the  marvellous  old  histories,  '  Puss  in  Boots,' 
'Cock  Robin,'  'Cinderella,'  and  the  like.  For- 
tunately the  front '  was  kept  low,  so  as  exactly  to 

suit  the  capacity  of  a  childish  admirer 

But   Skinner  Street   did  not   prosper  much,   and 
never  could  compete  with  even  the  dullest  portions 
of  Holborn.      I   have   spoken  of  some  reputable 
shops ;  but  you  know  the  proverb,  '  One  swallow 
will  not  make  a  summer,'  and  it  was  a  declining 
neighbourhood  almost   before   it  could    be  called 
new.     In  1810  the  commercial  depot,  which  had 
been  erected  at  a  cost  of  ;^2S,ooo,  and  was  the 
chief  prize  in  the  lottery,  was  destroyed  by  fire, 
never  to  be  rebuilt — a  heavy  blow  and  discourage- 
ment to  Skinner  Street,  from  which  it  never  rallied. 
Perhaps  the  periodical  hanging-days  exercised  an 
unfavourable    influence,    Collecting,    as    they    fre- 
quently  did,   all   the   thieves   and    vagabonds   of 
London.      I    never    sympa:thised  with   Pepys   or 
Charles  Fox  in  their  passion  for  public  executions, 
and  made  it  a  point  to  avoid  those  ghastly  sights ; 
but  early  of  a  Monday  morning,  when  I  had  just 
reached   the  end  of  Giltspur  Street,   a  miserable 
wretch  had  just  been  turned  off  from  the  platform 
of  the  debtors'  door,  and  I  was  made  the  imwilUng 
witness  of  his  last  struggles.     That  scene  haunted 
me  for  months,  and  I  often  used  to  ask  myself, 
'Who  that  could  help   it  would  live  in  Skinner 
Street?'      The   next  unpropitious  event  in  these 
parts  was  the  unexpected   closing  of  the    child's 
library.     What  could  it  iflean  ?    Such  a  well-to-do 
establishment  shut  up  ?    Yes,  the  whole  army  of 
shutters  looked  blankly  on  the  inquirer,  and  forbade 
even  a  single  glance   at    'Sinbad'    or  'Robinson 
Crusoe.'    It  would  soon  be  re-opened,  we  naturally 
thought ;  but  the  shutters  never  came  down  again. 
The  whole  house  was  deserted;  not  even  a  mes- 
senger in  bankruptcy,  or  an  ancient  Charley,  was 
found  to  regard  the  playful  double  knocks  of  the 
neighbouring  juveniles.     Gradually  the  glass  of  all 
the  windows  got  broken  in,  a  heavy  cloud  of  black 
-dust,  solidifying  into  inches  thick,  gathered  on  sills 
and  doors  and  brickwork,  till  the  whole  frontage 
grew  as  gloomy  as  Giant  Despair's  Castle.    Not  long 
after,  the  adjoining  houses  shared  the  same  fate, 
and  they  remained  from  year  -to  year  without  the 
slightest  sign  of  life — absolute  scarecrows,  darkening 
with  their  uncomfortable  shadows  the  busy  streets. 
Within  half  a  mile,  in  Stamford  Street,  Blackfriars, 


there  are  (1863)  seven  houses  in  a  similar  predica- 
ment—  window-glass  demolished,  doors  cracked 
from  top   to  bottom,  spiders'  webs  hanging  from 
every  projecting   sill  or    parapet.      What  can   it 
mean  ?    The  loss  in  the  article  of  rents  alone  must 
be  over  ^1,000  annually.     If  the  real  owners  are 
at  feud  with  imaginary  owners,  surely  the  property 
might  be  rendered  valuable,  and  the  proceeds  in- 
vested.    Even   the   lawyers   can   derive  no  profit 
from  such  hopeless  abandonment.     I  am  told  the 
whole  mischief  arose  out  of  a  Chancery  suit.     Can 
it  be  the  famous  'Jamdyce  v.  Jamdyce' case  ?  And 
have  all  the  heirs  starved  each  other  out  ?    If  so, 
what  hinders  our  lady  the  Queen  from  taking  pos- 
session ?    Any  change  would  be  an  improvement, 
for  these  dead  houses  make  the  streets  they  cumber 
as  dispiriting  and  comfortless  as  graveyards.  '  Busy 
fancy  will  sometimes   people   them,   and  fill  the 
dreary  rooms  with  strange  guests.     Do  the  victims 
of   guilt  congregate    in    these  dark  dens?     Do 
■wretches  '  unfriended  by  the  world  or  the  world's 
law,'  seek  refuge  in  these  deserted  nooks,  mourning 
in   the  silence  of  despair  over  their  former  lives, 
and  anticipating  the  future  in  unappeasable  agony  ? 
Such  things  have  been — the  silence   and  desola- 
tion of  these  doomed  dwellings  make  them  the 
more  suitable  for  such  tenants." 

A  street  is  nothing  without  a  mystery,  so  a 
mystery  let  these  old  tumble-down  houses  remain, 
whilst  we  go  on  to  tell  that,  in  front  of  No.  58, 
the  sailor  Cashman  was  hung  in  181 7,  as  we 
have  already  mentioned,  for  plundering  a  gun- 
smith's shop  there.  William  Godwin,  the  author 
of  "Caleb  Williams,"  kept  a  bookseller's  shop  for 
several  years  in  Skinner  Street,  at  No.  41,  and 
published  school-books  in  the  name  of  Edward 
Baldwin.  On  the  wall  there  was  a  stone  carving 
of  .^sop  reciting  one  of  his  fables  to  children. 

The  most  noteworthy  event  of  the  life  of  God- 
win was  his  marriage  with  the  celebrated  Mary 
WoUstonecraft,  authoress  of  a  "  Vindication  of  tlie 
Rights  of  Women,"  whose  congenial  mind,  in 
politics  and  morals,  he  ardently  admired.  God- 
win's account  of  the  way  in  which  they  got  on 
together  is  worth  reading  : — "  Ours,"  he  writes, 
''  was  not  an  idle  happiness,  a  paradise  of  selfish 
and  transitory  pleasures.  It  is,  perhaps,  scarcely 
necessary  to  mention,  that  influenced  by  ideas  I 
had  long  entertained,  I  engaged  an  apartment 
about  twenty  doors  from  our  house,  in  the  Polygon, 
Somers  Town,  which  I  designed  for  the  purpose  of 
my  study  and  literary  occupations.  Trifles,  how- 
ever, will  be  interesting  to  some  readers,  when  they 
relate  to  the  last  period  of  the  life  of  such  a  person 
as  Mary.     I  will  add,  therefore,  that  we  were  both 


Metropolitan  Meat  Market.^ 


OUR  FOOD  SUPPLY. 


491 


of  us  of  opinion,  that  it  was  possible  for  two  per- 
sons to  be  too  uniformly  in  each  other's  society. 
Influenced  by  that  opinion,  it  was  my  practice  to 
repair  to  the  apartment  I  have  mentioned  as  soon 
as  I  rose,  and  frequently  not  to  make  my  appear- 
ance in  the  Polygon  till  the  hour  of  dinner.  We 
agreed  in  condemning  the  notion,  prevalent  in 
many  situations  in  life,  that  a  man  and  his  wife 
cannot  visit  in  mixed  society  but  in  company  with 
each  other,  and  we  rather  sought  occasions  of 
deviating  from  than  of  complying  with  this  rule. 
By  this  means,  though,  for  the  most  part,  we  spent 


the  latter  half  of  each  day  in  one  another's  society, 
yet  we  were  in  no  danger  of  satiety.  We  seemed 
to  combine,  in  a  considerable  degree,  the  novelty 
and  lively  sensation  of  a  visit  with  the  more  de- 
Ucious  and  heartfelt  pleasure  of  a  domestic  life." 

This  philosophic  union,  to  Godwin's  inexpres- 
sible affliction,  did  not  last  more  than  eighteen 
months,  at  the  end  of  which  time  Mrs.  Godwin 
died,  leaving  an  only  daughter,  who  in  the  course 
of  time  became  the  second  wife  of  the  poet  Shelley, 
and  was  the  author  of  the  wild  and  extraordinary 
tale  of  "  Frankenstein." 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE  METROPOLITAN  MEAT-MARKET. 

History  of  the  Metropolitan  Meat  Market — Newgate  Market  and  its  Inconvenience — Tlie  Meat  Market  described — The  Ceremony  of  Opening 
'^A  Roaring  Trade — The  Metropolitan  Poultry  Market — London  Trade  in  Poultry  and  Game — French  Geese  and  Irish  Geese— Packed  in 
Ice — Plover's  Eggs  for  the  Queen. 


Before  the  establishment  of  the  new  meat  and 
poultry  market  in  Smithfield,  London  was  behind 
every  city  of  Europe  in  respect  of  public  markets. 
For  seven  centuries,  dating  from  1150,  Smithfield 
has  been  used  as  a  market  for  live  stock.  Latterly, 
the  dirt  and  crowd,  and  the  rushes  of  homed  beasts, 
had  become  intolerable,  and  after  much  opposition 
from  vested  interests,  an  Act  of  Parliament  was 
passed  in  1852,  under  the  provisions  of  which  a 
new  and  convenient  cattle-market  was  constructed 
by  the  Corporation  out  to  the  quiet  north,  in 
Copenhagen  Fields,  once  the  resort  of  Cockney 
lovers.  Cockney  duellists,  and  Cockney  agitators. 

"At  the  opening  of  the  Meat-market  by  the 
Prince  Consort,  in  1855,"  says  the  Times  of  Novem- 
ber 25,  1868,  "  Smithfield  became  waste  ground. 
The  arrangements  at  Copenhagen  Fields  are  about 
as  good  for  their  purpose  as  any  that  could  have 
been  desired ;  but  since  the  time  the  market  there 
was  laid  out  there  have  been  very  great  changes  in 
respect  of  the  supply  of  animal  food  for  the  popu- 
lation of  the  metropolis.  Then  most  of  the  beasts 
and  sheep  converted  into  meat  for  sale  in  the 
shops  of  London  butchers  were  brought  to  London 
alive  and  slaughtered  by  the  retailers.  With  the 
development  of  our  railway  system,  and  the  addi- 
tions to  the  great  main  lines  by  extensions  which 
brought  them  into  the  business  parts  of  the  metro' 
poHs,  the  dead  meat  traffic  from  the  provinces 
exhibited  year  by  year  a  heavier  tonnage.  But 
the  Cattle  Plague,  and  the  consequent  restrictions 
to  the  removal  from  one  county  to  another  of  live 
stock  which  might  communicate  or  become  infected 


with  the  disease,  brought  about  something  like  a 
revolution  in  our  food  supply ;  and  at  the  present 
time  not  less  than  about  100,000  tons  of  dead 
meat  are  brought  into  the  London  market  from  all 
parts  of  the  country.  The  centre  to  which  all  this 
immense  quantity  of  meat  has  hitherto  been  con- 
signed is  Newgate  Market.  Here  has  been  con- 
ducted an  enormous  wholesale  trade  between  the 
salesmen,  to  whom  the  country  dealers,  nearly  300 
in  number,  consign  their  meat,  and  retail  butchers 
scattered  all  over  London  and  its  suburbs  who  do 
not  slaughter  for  themselves.  In  addition,  New- 
gate Market  has  been  from  time  immemorial  the 
principal  retail  meat  market — a  circumstance  which 
may  be  attributed  to  the  fact  that  it  has  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  cheaper  than  all  others  by  id.  or  2d. 
in  the  pound.  Now,  in  modern  London,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  find  any  site  more  inconvenient  for 
such  a  double  trade  than  that  of  Newgate  Market. 
The  whole  business  has  had  to  be  done  within  the 
very  limited  space  of  which  Paternoster  Row,  Ivy 
Lane,  Newgate  Street,  and  the  Old  Bailey  are  the 
boundaries.  Last  Christmas  week  800  tons  of 
meat  were  brought  to  London  for  the  Newgate 
Market  by  the  Great  Eastern,  the  Great  Northern, 
and  the  Midland  railways.  This,  and  the  consign- 
ments by  all  the  other  lines,  had  to  be  conveyed  to 
the  market  from  the  railway  stations  in  wagons 
and  vans.  These  vehicles,  and  the  butchers'  carts, 
completely  block  up  Giltspur  Street,  Newgate 
Street,  and  the  Old  Bailey  on  several  days  in  the 
week,  Mondays  and  Fridays  especially." 

Through  the  filthy  lanes  and  alleys  no  one  could 


'492 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


rMctropolilan  Meal  Marttet. 


Metropolitan  Meat  Market.]  EXCAVATIONS     ON     A     GRAND     SCALE. 


493 


pass  without  being  either  butted  with  the  dripping 
end  of  a  quarter  of  beef,  or  smeared  by  the  greasy 
carcase  of  a  newly-slain  sheep.  In  many  of  the 
narrow  lanes  there  was  hardly  room  for  two  persons 
to  pass  abreast.  Nevertheless,  till  the  extension  of 
the  railway  system,  there  was  a  difficulty  in  con- 
structing a  meat-market  worthy  of  London,  from 


mentary  powers  enabled  the  committee  to  raise  a 
sum  of  ;!£'235,ooo  for  the  purchase  of  property, 
and  ;^2oo,ooo  for  the  erection  of  buildings.  The 
Markets  Improvement  Committee  concluded  their 
contract  with  Messrs.  Browne  and  Robinson  for  a 
sum  within  the  estimated  amount  of  ;^2oo,ooo. 
The  chief  element  of  the  design  was  that  the  base- 


the  size  of  the  great  city.      A  good  meat-market  !  ment  storey  of  the  market  was  to  be  a  "through" 
must  be  open  to  access  from  all  quarters.     Some  \  railway-station,  with  communication  not  only  from 


THE   METROPOLITAN    MEAT   MARKET. 


years  ago,  when  beef  and  mutton  were  far  dearer  in 
outlying  shops  than  in  Newgate  Market  itself,  the 
inconvenient  position,  and  the  difficulty  of  reaching 
It,  compelled  persons  of  moderate  means  to  be 
taxed  elsewhere,  rather  than  face  the  dirt  and 
bustle  of  Newgate.  The  Corporation,  therefore, 
at  last  resolved  on  providing  a  new  market  in 
Smithfield,  in  order  to  utilise  a  waste,  and  develop 
the  meat  trade  throughout  the  kingdom. 

In  i860  the  Corporation  obtained  an  Act  for 
erecting  market  buildings  on  the  site  of  Smithfield, 
and  the  following  year  procured  another,  giving 
them  power  to  abolish  Newgate  Market.  The 
Markets  Improvement  Committee  then  took  the 
matter  in  hand,  and  Mr.  Horace  Jones,  the  City 
architect,  prepared  a  fitting  design.  Their  parlia- 
80— Vol.  II. 


the 


all  parts   of  the  country,   but  also   with  all 
suburban  lines. 

The  tremendous  excavations  soon  began  on  a 
Roman  scale  of  grandeur.  About  3,500,000  loads 
of  earth,  weighing  about  172,000  tons,  had  to  be 
loosened  and  removed.  Twenty-one  main  girders, 
of  Titanic  strength,  were  carried  across  the  entire 
width  of  the  excavation,  240  feet,  on  wrought-iron 
stanchions.  On  these  main  girders  cross  girders 
were  laid,  2  feet  6  inches  deep,  and  7  feet  6  inches 
apart.  Between  the  latter  brick  arches  were  turned, 
and  concrete  and  asphalte  were  set  in  stone,  to  form 
a  roof  for  the  railway,  and  a  bedding  for  the  wood 
pavement  of  the  building. 

In   these   foundations   were   five  miles  of  iron 
girding,  carried  on   no    fewer  than    180  wrought- 


494 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON.- 


tMetropolitan  Meat  Market 


iron  stanchions,   while  substantial  retaining  walls 
rose  all  around. 

The  first  stone  of  this  well-planned  market  was 
laid  on  the  5th  of  June,  1867,  by  Mr.  Lowman 
Taylor,  the  chairman  of  the  committee.  In  March 
the  central  area  was  given  up  to  the  contractors. 
The  market  is  a  huge  parallelogram,  631  feet  long 
and  246  feet  wide,  and  covers  three  and  a  half  acres. 
It  is  not  over-beautiful,  but  then  its  necessities  were 
pecuUar  and  imperative.  The  style  would  pro- 
bably be  called  Italian,  but  it  resembles  more  the 
Renaissance  of  France,  that  style  which  medieval- 
ists shudder  at,  but  which  is  more  elastic  in  the 
architect's  hands  than  the  Gothic.  The  prevailing 
feature  of  the  style  is  a  series  of  arcaded  recesses 
between  Doric  pilasters,  fluted  on  the  upper  two 
triads,  and  elevated  on  pedestals.  The  entablature 
is  returned  and  ornamented  over  the  pilasters, 
with  vase-like  finials.  The  external  wall  is  32  feet 
high.  Between  the  Portland  stone  pilasters  are 
recesses  of  red  brickwork.  The  semi-circular  heads 
of  the  arches  are  filled  in  with  rich  iron  scrolls, 
which  let  in  the  light  and  air  freely. 

The  keystones  of  the  arches  are  richly  carved, 
especially  those  over  the  twelve  side  entrances. 
Under  the  iron  openings  are  windows,  with  stone 
sills,  trusses,  architraves,  and  cornices.  At  the 
angles  of  the  building  rise  four  handsome  towers 
of  Portland  stone.  The  lower  storey  of  each 
octagonal  tower  is  a  square,  with  double  pilasters 
at  the  comers,  and  a  carved  pediment  on  each 
face.  Above  this  height  the  towers  are  octagonal. 
The  square  and  the  octagonal  portions  are  joined 
by  the  huge  couchant  stone  griffins  of  the  City 
arms.  On  each  side  of  the  octagon  are  windows, 
with  carved  friezes.  The  dome  of  each  tower 
is  pierced  on  four  sides  by  dormer  windows,  and 
above  is  a  lantern,  surrounded  by  an  ornamental 
railing.  The  finest  coup  d'ceil  of  the  building,  archi- 
tectural critics  think,  are  the  two  fagades  of  the 
fine  public  roadway  which  runs  across  the  market, 
and  divides  it  into  equal  parts.  The  roadway 
is  50  feet  wide  between  the  double  piers,  which 
carry  a  richly-moulded  elliptical  arch  and  cast-iron 
pediment,  and  over  each  double  pier  is  an  em- 
blematic figure  in  Portland  stone,  representing  one 
of  the  four  principal  cities  of  the  United  Kingdom. 
At  the  south  front  London  and  Edinburgh  stand 
confessed,  and  on  the  north  are  Dublin  and  Liver- 
pool. The  sides  of  the  outer  roadway  are  shut  off 
from  the  market  by  an  elaborate  open  iron-work 
screen,  14  feet  high,  and  at  the  intersection  of 
the  central  avenue,  east  and  west,  the  market  is 
closed  by  ornamented  iron  gates,  with  iron  span- 
drils  and  semi-circular  heads,  similar  to  those  in  the 


arcade.  Towards  the  north  a  gate  gives  access, 
by  a  double  staircase,  to  the  railway  department 
below.  The  gates  at  the  east  and  west  entrances 
(the  chief)  are  25  feet  high,  and  19  feet  wide,  and 
each  pair  weighs  15  tons.  They  are  formed  of 
wrought  ironwork,  elaborately  scrolled.  The  central 
avenue,  a  large  inner  street,  is  27  feet  wide,  and  has 
six  side  avenues.  The  shops  are  ranged  on  either 
side  of  this  great  thoroughfare.  There  is  one  bay 
at  the  east  end  of  the  market  for  game  and  poultry, 
but  no  fish  or  vegetables  can  be  sold.  The  shops 
are  of  cast-iron,  with  light  columns  and  lattice 
girders,  and  which,  by  brackets,  serve  to  carry  the 
rails  and  meat-hooks.  There  are  about  162  shops 
in  the  market,  each  about  36  feet  by  15  feet,  and 
behind  every  shop  is  an  enclosed  counting-house, 
with  private  apartments  overhead.  To  secure 
light  and  air  the  Mansard  roof  has  been  used. 
The  broad  glass  louvres  of  this  system  let  in  the 
air  and  keep  out  the  sun;  the- result  is  that  the 
interior  of  the  building  is  generally  ten  degrees 
cooler  thaii  the  temperature  in  the  shade  outside. 
There  are  twelve  hydrants  on  the  floor-level.  It 
was  planned  that  when  the  meat  which  arrived 
by  rail  reached  the  dep6t  underneath  the  market, 
it  should  be  raised  to  the  level  of  the  floorway  by 
powerful  hydrauUc  lifts.  The  Metropolitan,  the 
Midland,  the  London,  Chatham,  and  Dover,  and 
the  Great  Western  Railways  have  direct  communi- 
cation with  the  depSt.  The  passenger  trains  of 
the  Metropolitan,  Great  Northern,  Midland,  and 
Chatham  and  Dover  Companies  rush  through 
every  two  minutes,  and  the  Great  Western  Com- 
pany have  an  extensive  receiving-store  there.  It 
was  thought' that  if  it  were  deemed  desirable  there 
would  be  no  difficulty  in  making  a  passenger  station 
right  under  the  market. 

For  the  ceremony  of  opening,  in  November, 
1868,  a  raised  dais  was  erected  in  the  eastern  nave, 
and  the  public  roadway  dividing  the  market  was 
fitted  up  as  a  magnificent  banqueting-room.  On 
both  sides  and  at  either  end  streamed  rich  scarlet 
draperies,  and  within  the  gate  there  were  paintings 
and  ornaments  in  white  and  gold-work.  The  tem- 
porary entrance  was  at  the  end  of  the  eastern 
avenue.  Opposite  it  was  a  scarlet  sideboard, 
glowing  with  gold  plate,  and  crowned  with  a  trophy 
of  lances.  A  table  for  the  Lord  Mayor  and  chief 
guests  was  placed  in  front  of  the  sideboard,  and 
twenty- four  other  tables,  on  which  there  were  flowers  , 
and  fruit,  and  covers  for  1,200  people,  ran  in  a  , 
transverse  direction  from  the  Lord  Mayor's  seat, 
Ovet  the  entrance  was  an  orchestra  for  the  band  of 
the  Greiiadief  Guards^  led  by  that  enthusiast  of 
good  time,  Mf.  Dan  Godfrey.    Jets  of  gas  were . 


Metropolitan  Meat  Market.] 


A   NEW   IRISH   GRIEVANCE. 


495 


carried  along  the  elliptical  roof  girders,  in  simple 
lines,  and  in  arches  over  the  screen  of  open  iron- 
work that  shuts  off  the  market  from  the  roadway. 
Three  thousand  yards  of  gas-piping  fed  a  number 
of  candelabra  and  a  centre  star-light.  There  were 
four  carvers,  in  Guildhall  dignity,  who,  mounted 
on  high  pedestals,  carved  barons  of  beef  and  boars' 
heads.  The  Lord  Mayor's  footmen  shone  in  gold 
lace,  and  the  City  trumpeter  and  toastmaster  also 
dignified  the  feast  by  their  attendance.  The  cere- 
mony of  opening  the  market  was  simple  enough. 
The  Lord  Mayor  arrived  in  state  from  the  Mansion 
House,  and  was  received  by  Mr.  H.  Lowman  Taylor 
and  the  Markets  Improvement  Committee,  at  the 
east  end  of  the  building,  and  conducted  to  the 
dais,  where  his  lordship  received  a  number  of  pro- 
vincial mayors,  members  of  Parliament,  &c.  The 
speakers  at  the  banquet  congratulated  each  other 
on  the  rapidity  with  which  the  market  had  been 
built,  and  hoped  it  would  bring  tolls  to  the  Cor- 
poration, cheap  meat  to  the  people,  and  fair  profits 
to  the  salesmen.  Mr.  Lowman  Taylor  considered 
the  old  market  well  replaced  by  the  new  building, 
with  its  ample  thoroughfares,  and  trusted  that  the 
new  rents  and  tolls  would  bring  the  Corporation 
exchequer  a  fair  return  for  the  ^^200,000  which  the 
new  building  had  cost.  It  was  designed  to  supply 
3,000,000  with  food. 

"  The  interior  of  the  market,"  says  a  writer  at 
the  time  of  the  opening,  "  has  been  of  necessity 
even  more  subservient  to  the  purposes  of  the 
building  than  the  exterior.  One  of  the  leading 
features  in  the  arrangements  is  that  for  securing 
light  without  sunshine,  and  free  ventilation  without 
exposure  to  rain.  During  the  excessive  heat  of 
last  summer  the  effect  was  tested  by  thermometers 
placed  in  various  parts  of  the  building,  and  the 
result  found  to  be  highly  satisfactory.  The  upper 
parts  of  the  roof  all  over  the  building  are  of 
wood,  and  communicate  with  other  portions  of  the 
fabric,  which  are  also  of  wood.  In  the  event  of 
fire  it  would  probably  spread  with  terrific  rapidity 
through  the  building.  The  wooden  portions  of  the 
roof  have  also  the  effect  of  throwing  the  avenues 
somewhat  into  shade.  The  shops  are  arranged 
on  each  side  of  the  side  avenues  which  cross  the 
market  from  north  to  south,  and  intersect  the 
central  avenue.  The  latter  is  27  feet  wide,  and 
the  six  side  avenues  18  feet  wide  each.  The 
backs  of  the  shops  are  closed  in,  but  at  the  sides 
are  screened  by  light  ironwork  to  ensure  ventilation. 
The  floor  of  the  market  is  paved  with  blocks. 
Twelve  hydrants,  always  at  high  pressure,  vrill  supply 
ample  means  of  washing  out  the  market  avenues 
and  stalls,  and  could  be  used  in  case  of  fire." 


This  great  market  has  proved  a  decided  success. 
An  official  report  issued  this  year  {1874)  shows  that 
the  total  amount  of  toll  paid  for  all  descriptions  of 
produce  brought  into  the  market  has  risen  from 
;^i4,22o  3s.  6|d.  in  1869  to  ;£'i6,8i8  los.  lo^d. 
in  1873.  The  total  receipts  for  both  tolls  and 
rentals  were  ;^Si,i65  i8s.  ijd.  in  1873  as  against 
;^5 1,089  IS.  3d.  during  1872.  There  is  a  large 
and  increasing  demand  for  accommodation  j  so 
much  so,  indeed,  that  whenever  there  is  a  vacant 
shop,  it  is  besieged  by  twenty  or  thirty  tradesmen, 
eager  to  become  tenants,  and  a  place  in  the  market 
is  considered  quite  a  prize  amongst  salesmen.  It  is 
anticipated  that  there  will  soon  be  a  farther  demand 
on  the  space  at  Smithfield,  in  consequence  of  the 
Act  prohibiting  private  slaughter-houses  coming  into 
operation,  as  many  of  the  Whitechapel  butchers 
will  then  desire  to  come  here.  This  being  the 
case,  it  was  some  time  since  resolved  to  erect  a  new 
market  immediately  west  of  the  Meat  Market,  to  be 
devoted  to  the  poultry,  game,  and  cognate  trades. 

This  new  structure  which  the  Fathers  of  the  City 
propose  to  bestow  upon  their  children  is  rapidly 
approaching  completion.  It  is,  as  regards  archi- 
tecture, in  harmony  with  the  Meat  Market,  and 
that  it  will  be  as  successful  as  regards  trade  can 
hardly  be  doubted.  The  traffic  in  London  in 
poultry  and  game  possesses  many  features  of  inte- 
rest, and  a  few  facts  respecting  the  business  done 
at  Smithfield  in  these  luxuries  of  the  table  may  be 
worth  noting.  The  following  newspaper  account 
may  be  rescued,  on  account  of  its  merits,  from 
that  oblivion  which  so  generally  attends  most  of 
the  ephemeral  productions  of  the  press  : — "  The 
'  foreign '  branch  of  the  poultry  and  game  business 
is  the  most  curious.  The  greater  part  of  the  eat- 
able ornithology  of  Smithfield,  in  this  department, 
is  derived  from  Ireland  and  France.  The  Belgian 
pig,  as  an  eatable  subject,  has  lately  been  beating 
his  Irish  brother,  and  it  may  be  made  another 
subject  for  an  Irish  grievance  that  the  French  goose 
has  of  late  years  become  a  formidable  rival  of  his  ^ 
fellow-geese  from  the  Emerald  Isle.  Formerly 
there  was  a  prejudice  against  French  geese ;  the 
trade  would  not  look  at  them,  and  the  public 
would  not  eat  them.  But  gastronomical  prejudices 
are  short-lived.  Whether  it  is  due  to  the  soothing 
influence  of  sage  and  onions  or  to  the  quality  of 
the  noble  bird  itself,  it  is  certain  now  that  the 
French  goose  is  very  popular  on  this  side  of  the 
Channel,  for  the  poulterers  say  that  they  sell  large 
numbers  of  them  at  good  prices.  Indeed,  so 
successful  is  the  French  goose,  that  large  numbers 
of  his  race  are  imported  into  England  in  an  attenu- 
ated condition  during  the  summer,  and  are  sent 


496 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


CFarringdon  Street. 


into  the  country  to  be  fattened  for  the  London 
market  at  Michaelmas.  But  remoter  lands  than 
France  supply  us  with  birds  for  the  table.  We 
get  an  abundance  of  prairie  hens  and  canvas-back 
ducks  from  the  United  States.  These  are  frozen 
by  machinery  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic, 
packed  in  barrels,  and  brought  over  in  capital 
condition.  From  Norway  we  receive  ptarmigan, 
black-cock,  and  that  eatable  eagle,  the  capercailzie. 
They  are  sent  over  in  the  winter,  frozen  naturally, 
in  cases  containing  from  eighty  to  a  hundred  each, 
being  shipped  at  Christiansund,  landed  at  Hull, 
and  brought  up  to  town  by  rail.  Holland  is  good 
enough  to  send  us,  sometimes  by  forty  or  fifty 
baskets  of  two  hundred  each  in  one  steamer,  her 
delicious  wild  ducks,  and  those  curious  little  birds 
called  ruffs  and  rees,  which  are  about  the  size  of 
godwits,  and  the  male  of  which  has  most  wonderful 
plumage,  with  a  pretty  crown  of  grey  feathers  on 
his  head,  given  him  to  make  him  look  handsome 
at  courting  time.  But  our  most  curious  importa- 
tion is  the  quail  from  Egypt,  which  feeds  us  to  this 
day,  as  it  fed  the  Israelites  in  the  desert,  and  is 
brought  over  alive,  in  consignments  of  from  thirty 
to  fifty  thousand.  These  birds  are  shipped  at 
Alexandria,  and  are  sent  to  Marseilles  in  charge  of 
a  native  attendant  to  minister  to  their  bodily  wants. 


Thence  they  are  '  railed '  across  France  in  cages, 
lodged  for  a  time  in  Smithfield,  and  then  dispersed 
to  all  parts  of  the  kingdom.  So  carefully  are  they 
transported,  that  not  more  than  seven  per  cent,  of 
them  perish  by  the  way.  From  birds  it  is  a  natural 
transition  to  eggs,  and  there  is  an  enormous  market 
for  plovers'  eggs  at  Smithfield.  They  come  chiefly 
from  Holland  —  the  home  produce  being  very 
small — and  they  are  received  during  the  spring 
and  summer  from  March  to  June.  The  first 
plovers'  eggs  of  the  season  invariably  go  to  the 
Queen's  poulterer,  for  Her  Majesty's  table,  and 
fetch  from  seven  to  ten  shillings  apiece. 

"  Besides  all  this  foreign  produce,  there  is,  of 
course,  an  immense  home  trade,  and  of  the  English 
poultry,  which  comes  principally  from  Surrey, 
Devonshire,  Lincolnshire,  and  Suffolk,  much  might 
be  said.  No  wonder  the  poulterers  are  getting 
crowded  out  of  their  small  comer  of  Smithfield 
Market,  and  are  eager  for  a  market  of  their  own 
where  they  will  have  some  scope  for  the  develop- 
ment of  their  business.  The  trade  generally  is 
favourable  to  removal,  and  it  is  likely  to  act  as 
a  severe  drain  on  Leadenhall,  if  not  to  shut  it  up 
altogether,  although  it  is  said  there  is  a  knot  of 
very  conservative  poulterers  who  vow  that  they  will 
never  desert  the  old  place,  come  what  may." 


CHAPTER  LVII. 
FARRINGDON    STREET,    HOLBORN    VIADUCT,    AND    ST.    ANDREW'S   CHURCH. 

I'e.mngdon  Without — ^A  Notorioas  Alderman — Farringdon  Within — Farringdon  Street — Fleet  Market — Farringdon  Marlcet— Watercress  Sellers— 
On  a  November  Morning — The  Congregational  Memorial  Hall — Holborn  Viaduct  described— The  City  Temple — Opening  of  the  Viaduct 
by  the  Queen — St.  Andrew's,  Holborn — Its  Interior — Its  Exterior — Emery  the  Comedian — The  Persecuting  Lord  Chancellor  Wriothesley— 
Sacheverel :  a  Pugnacious  Divine— The  Registers  of  St.  Andrew's — Marriages  cried  by  the  Bellman — Edward  Coke's  Maniage—Coke 
catches  a  Tartar — Colonel  and  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  Marriage — A  Courtship  worth  reading — Christening  of  Richard  Savage— The  Unfortunate 
Chatterton — Henry  Neele,  the  Poet — Webster,  the  Dramatist,  and  his  White  Devil — ^A  Funeral  Dirge — Tomkins,  the  Conspirator— Strutt, 
and  "Sports  and  Pastimes "—"  Wicked  Will"  Whiston— A  Queen's  Faults— Hacket,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Lichfield  and  Coventry— A 
Surprise  for  Dissenters— Stillingfleet :  A  Controversial  Divine— Looking  People  in  the  Face— The  Rev.  Charles  Barton— An  Agreeable 
Surprise— St.  George  the  Martyr,  Queen  Square,  and  St.  Andrew's— St.  Andrew's  Grammar  School. 


It  is  convenient  here  to  devote  a  paragraph  to 
the  general  subject  of  the  ward — that  of  Farring- 
don Without — in  which  we  now  find  ourselves. 
"  The  whole  great  Ward  of  Farindon,"  says  Stow, 
"both  intra  and  extra  {i.e.,  within  and  without 
the  walls),  took  name  of  W.  Farindon,  goldsmith, 
alderman  of  that  ward,  and  one  of  the  sheriffs  of 
London  in  the  year  1281,  the  9th  of  Edward  I. 
He  purchased  the  aldermanry  of  this  ward."  Far- 
ringdon Without  is  by  far  the  largest  of  all  the 
twenty-six  wards  of  London.  Its  general  boun- 
daries are — on  the  north,  Holborn  and  Smithfield ; 
on  the  south,  the  Thames,  between  Blackfriars 
Bridge  and  the  Temple  Stairs ;  on  the  cast,  New 


Bridge  Street  and  the  Old  Bailey ;  and  on  the 
west,  Temple  Bar  and  Chancery  Lane.  The  noto- 
rious John  Wilkes  was  chosen  alderman  of  this 
ward  on  the  27th  of  January,  1769,  "while  yet," 
says  Walpole,  "  a  criminal  of  State  and  a  prisoner." 
He  was  at  this  time  immensely  popular  with  a 
large  party  in  the  City  of  London,  and  the  election 
established  that  connection  with  the  metropolis 
which  was  afterwards  so  profitable  to  him.  This 
violent  politician  seems  to  have  exercised  a  powerful 
fascination  over  those  he  met,  by  his  wit,  happy 
temperament,  and  tact,  and  no  doubt  much  of  his 
success  with  the  clear-headed  mercantile  community 
of  London  arose  from  this.     Lord  Mansfield,  who 


Farringdon  Street] 


AN   OLD    MARKET. 


497 


had  no  reason  to  like  him,  was  once  heard  to 
remark,  "  that  he  was  the  pleasantest  companion, 
the  politest  gentleman,  and  the  best  scholar  he 
ever  knew."  He  excited  great  admiration  by  his 
fertility  in  expedients.  "If,"  said  one  who  knew 
him,  "he  were  stripped  and  thrown  over  West- 
minster Ridge  one  day,  you  would  meet  him  the 
next  in  Pall  Mall,  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion, 
and  with  money  in  his  pocket." 

Farringdon  Without  has  been  famous  for  its 
banking  connections.  The  founders  of  the  three 
rich  banking-houses  in  Fleet  Street — the  Childs, 
the  Hoares,  and  the  Goslings — filled  at  various 
periods  the  office  of  alderman  of  this  ward. 

The  companion  ward  of  Farringdon  Within,  out 
of  which  we  passed  when  we  left  speaking  of  Christ's 
Hospital,  has  for  its  general  boundaries,  on  the 
north,  Christ's  Hospital  (in  the  hall  of  which  the 
wardmotes  are  held),  and  part  of  Cheapsidej  on 
the  south,  the  Thames;  on  the  east,  Cheapside; 
and  on  the  west.  New  Bridge  Street. 

Farringdon  Street,  which  runs  from  Bridge  Street 
northward  to  the  line  of  Holborn,  is  constructed 
over  the  celebrated  Fleet  Ditch.  In  this  street 
stood  Fleet  Market.  To  understand  the  history  of 
this  market  the  reader  must  recall  what  we  said 
when  speaking  of  the  Mansion  House,  that  it  was 
erected  on  the  site  of  the  old  Stocks  Market  (see 
Vol.  I.,  p.  436).  When  that  happened,  about  1737, 
and  Fleet  Ditch  was  arched  over,  the  business  of 
the  Stocks  Market  was  transferred  to  the  ground 
above  the  ditch,  now  called,  as  we  have  mentioned, 
Farringdon  Street  Such  was  the  origin  of  Fleet 
Market.  It  was  opened  for  the  sale  ot  meat,  fish, 
and  vegetables  on  the  30th  of  September,  17J7; 
but  it  did  not  complete  a  century  of  existence  here. 

In  1829  it  was  found  necessary  to  widen  the 
thoroughfare  from  Holborn  to  Blackfriars  Bridge; 
so  Fleet  Market  was  removed  from  Farringdon 
Street,  and  Farringdon  Market,  in  the  immediate 
vicinity,  but  off  the  line  of  the  street,  was  opened  in 
its  stead.  The  site  of  this  comparatively  neglected 
mart  covers  an  acre  and  a  half  of  ground,  and  was 
built  by  William  Montague,  the  City  architect.  It 
has  Stonecutter  Street  for  its  southern  boundaiy. 
The  cost  of  the  site  and  buildings  was'  about 
;^25o,ooo.  The  following  description  of  the  market 
is  of  the  date  of  its  being  opened  for  business,  on 
the  20th  of  November,  1829: — "  It  forms  a  hand- 
some and  elevated  quadrangle,  of  232  feet  by  150 
feet.  The  purchase  of  the  ground,  and  the  build- 
ings which  stood  thereon,  is  estimated  in  round 
numbers  at  ;^2oo,ooo ;  the  building  of  the  market, 
including  paviours'  accounts,  &c.,  is  stated  at 
;^8o,ooo.    The  avenue  under  which  ar?  the  shop 


of  the  dealers,  and  which  extends  round  three  sides 
of  the  building,  is  25  feet  high,  to  what  are  tech- 
nically termed  the  tie-beams,  with  ventilators  ranged 
at  equal  distances.  ...  In  the  centre  of  the 
roof  of  the  principal  ayenue  a  turret  and  clock 
have  been  placed.  .  .  .  The  chief  entrance  to 
the  market  is  by  two  gates,  for  wagons,  &c.,  in 
Stonecutter  Street,  which  has  been  made  double 
its  former  width,  and  two  smdler  ones  for  foot- 
passengers;  besides  these,  on  each  side  of  the 
quadrangle,  massive  oak  doors  are  to  be  thrown 
open,  from  morning  till  the  close  of  public  busi- 
ness." 

But  careful  building  and  liberal  outlay  seemed 
only  thrown  away.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Court  of 
Common  Council,  held  on  the  29th  of  June,  1874, 
to  consider  the  advisability  of  reconstructing  the 
market,  it  was  stated  that  the  receipts  during  the 
last  five  years  had  only  averaged  ^^225.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  the  court  exhibited  very  little 
inclination  to  expend  more  money  on  a  site  which, 
exceedingly  valuable  as  it  would  prove  for  other 
purposes,  seems  little  suited  for  that  of  a  market. 

"  Many  persons,"  says  a  recent  writer,  "  are  of 
opinion  that  it  is  desirable  to  maintain  the  old 
Farringdon  Market.  In  fact,  the  Corporation 
lately  invited  designs  for  its  improvement,  "and 
have  actually  awarded  prizes  for  the  best.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  Farringdon  Market,  as  it 
stands,  is  in  a  very  bad  position.  It  is  quite 
behind  the  times  in  the  matter  of  accommodation, 
and  the  gradients  by  which  access  to  it  is  gained 
are  so  steep  that  accidents  to  carts  and  horses 
not  unfrequently  happen.  It  may  be  open  to  im- 
provement by  the  alteration  of  the  levels  as  pro- 
posed, but  the  latest  disposition  of  the  Corporation 
appears  to  be  to  leave  the  old  market  to  its  fate, 
and  build  a  new  one  west  of  that  now  in  process 
of  construction  at  Smithfield,  a  course  which  cer- 
tainly would  have  many  advantages.  As  regards 
the  existing  market,  it  may  be  said  to  do  a  fairish 
middle-class  trade.  Its  produce,  however,  is  very 
humble,  and  rarely  rises  above  the  rank  of  the 
modest  onion,  the  plebeian  cabbage,  the  barely 
respectable  cauliflower,  the  homely  apple,  and 
other  impretending  fruits  and  vegetables.  Pine- 
apples and  hot-house  grapes  are  unknown  to  its 
dingy  sheds,  and,  as  a  sorrowing  tradesman  re- 
marked, 'We  never  see  such  things  as  pears  at 
5s.  a  dozen  !'  The  market  for  vegetables,  in  fact, 
is  supplied  chiefly  from  the  gardens  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  London,  say  within  a  ten  or  twelve 
miles'  radius,  while  the  fruit  comes  almost  exclu- 
sively from  Kent.  The  more  important  supplies, 
from  distant  .parts  of  the  country,  go  to  Covent 


498 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[  Karriiigdon  Street. 


Qarden  and  the  Borough.  It  is  supposed  that  a 
better  class  trade  would  be  dope  at  Smithfield,  but 
this  is  a  disputed  point. 

"  In  one  commodity  Farringdon  does  a  great 
business.  It  is  the  market,  par  excellence,  for  water- 
cresses.  Of  these  there  are  about  a  score  of 
vendors  in  the  market,  and  sometimes  as  much  as 
twenty  tons  a  week  are  brought  up  for  sale.  The 
general  market  opens  at  four  a.m.,  but  the  retailers 


market  value  of  a  shilling.  The  price  ranges  from 
twelve  to  eighteen  hands ;  but  the  buyer  is  always 
careful  to  see  that  he  or  she  gets  proper  measure 
calculated  in  a  rough-and-ready  sort  of  fashion,  and 
one  often  hears  the  admonition,  '  Don't  pinch  your 
hand,  governor.'" 

A  visit  to  Farringdon  Market  in  early  morning, 
Mr.  Henry  Mayhew  holds,  is  the  proper  way  to 
form  an  estimate  of  the  fortitude,  courage,  and 


FLEET  MARKET.     (From  a  Drawing  in  Mr.  Gardinet's  Collection^ 


of  the  watercress  are  allowed  to  enter  an  hour 
earlier,  and  they  ilock  thither— men,  women,  boys, 
and  girls — by  hundreds  at  a  time.  The  'water- 
creases'  are  brought  in  hampers,  and  in  smaller 
baskets,  called  pads  and  flats.  The  toll  for  a 
hamper  is  twopence,  and  for  a  pad  or  flat  one 
penny.  The  pleasant  vegetable  is  sold  by  the 
'  end,'  the  '  middle,'  and  the  '  side '  of  the  basket— 
those  in  the  middle,  as  they  are,  of  course,  fresher 
than  the  rest,  fetching  the  best  price.  Jhe  value 
of  a  hamper  of  watercresses  is  sometimes  as  high  as 
twenty  shillings,  and  as  low  as  five,  that  of 'a  pad 
or  flat  being  half  as  much.  But  the  most  popular 
way  of  buying  watercresses  is  'by  the  hand;'  that 
is,  the  salesman  sells  as  many  handfuls — of  his 
oimi  Jiand,  of  course— as  may  be  equivalent  lo  the 


perseverance  of  the  poor.  These  watercress  sellers 
are  members  of  a  class  so  poverty-stricken  that 
their  extreme  want  alone  would  almost  justify  them 
in  taking  to  thieving,  yet  they  can  be  trusted  to 
pay  the  few  pence  they  owe,  even  though  hunger 
should  pinch  them  for  it.  As  Douglas  Jerrold  has 
truly  said,  "there  is  goodness,  like  wild  honey, 
hived  in  strange  nooks  and  corners  of  the  earth." 
It  must  require  no  little  energy  of  conscience  on 
the  part  of  the  lads  to  make  them  resist  the  temp- 
tations around  them,  and  refuse  the  cunning  advice 
of  the  young  thieves  they  meet  at  their  cheap 
lodging-houses.  Yet  they  prefer  the  early  rising, 
the  walk  to  market  with  naked  feet  over  the  cold 
stones,  and  the  chance  of  earning  a  few  pence  by 
a  day  of  honest  labour,  to  all  the  comparative  ease 


Holbom  Viaduct.] 


THE   WATERCRESS   TRADE. 


4':  9 


FIELD    LANE   ABOJT    184a 


500 


OLD   AND    NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbom  Viaduct. 


of  a  career  of  fraud.  "The  heroism  of  the  un- 
known poor,"  adds  Mr.  Mayhew,  "is  a  thing  to  set 
even  the  dullest  marvelling,  and  in  no  place  in  all 
London  is  the  virtue  of  the  humblest — both  young 
and  old — so  conspicuous  as  amongst  the  watercress 
buyers  at  Farringdon.  Market." 

Mr.  Mayhew  visited  it  one  November  morning. 
The  poor,  he  says,  were  there,  in  every  style  of 
rags,  laying  in  the  necessary  stock  for  their  trade. 
"As  the  morning  twilight  drew  on,  the  paved  court 
was  crowded  with  customers.  The  sheds  and  shops 
at  the  'end  of  the  market  grew  every  moment  more 
distinct,  and   a  railway  van,  laden  with  carrots, 
came  rumbling  into  the  yard.     The  pigeons,  too, 
began  to  fly  into  the  sheds,  or  walk  about  the 
paving-stones,  and  the  gas-man  came  round  with 
his  ladder  to  turn  out  the  lamps.     Then  every  one 
was  pushing  about,  the   children  crying  as  their 
naked  feet  were  trodden  upon,  and  the  women 
hurrying  off  with  their  baskets  or  shawls  filled  with 
cresses,  and  the  bunch  of  rushes  in  their  hands. 
In  one  comer  of  the  market,  busily  tying  up  their 
bunches,  were  three  or  four  girls,  seated  on  the 
stones,  with  their  legs  curled  up  under  them,  and 
the  ground  near  them  was  green  with  the  leaves 
they  had  thrown  away.     A  saleswoman,  seeing  me 
looking  at  the  group,  said,  '  Ah,  you  should  come 
here  of  a  summer's  morning,  and  then  you'd  see 
'em,  sitting  tying  up,  young  and  old,  upwards  of 
a  hundred   poor  things,  as  thick  as  crows  in  a 
ploughed  field.' " 

On  the  east  side  of  Farringdon  Street,  and  on  a 
part  of  the  site  of  the  old  Fleet  Prison,  stands  the 
Congregational  Memorial  Hall  and  Library,  a 
handsome  new  building,  the  foundation-stone  of 
which  was  laid  on  the  loth  of  May,  1872.  This 
hall  has  been  erected  by  the  Congregationalists  of 
England  and  Wales,  in  commemoration  of  the 
ejection  from  their  charges,  two  hundred  years 
ago — it  was  on  the  24th  of  August,  1662 — of  more 
than  two  thousand  ministers  of  the  Church  of 
England,  because  they  could  not  conscientiously 
subscribe  to  the  Act  of  Uniformity.  The  ground 
purchased  in  Farringdon  Street  consisted  of  9,000 
feet  of  freehold  land,  with  84  feet  frontage  to  the 
main  road,  and  32  feet  to  old  Fleet  Lane,  and 
having  a  depth  of  about  100  feet.  It  cost  ;^28,ooo. 
The  design  for  the  memorial  building,  prepared  by 
Mr.  Tarring,  comprised  a  hall  capable  of  holding 
1,200  to  1,500  people  ;  a  library,  with  accommoda- 
tion for  300 ;  a  board-room,  and  twenty-five  other 
offices,  which  it  was  calculated  would  be  amply 
sufficient  for  all  the  societies  connected  with  the 
denomination  in  London. 
We  come  now  to  speak  of  one  of  the  greatest 


and  most  successful  works  ever  undertaken  in  the 
city  of  London  —  the  Holbom  Valley  improve- 
ments, an  undertaking  which  will  ever  be  quoted  as 
a  notable  example  of  the  energy  and  public  spirit 
of  our  time.    We  have  already  spoken  of  the  incon- 
venience and  disagreeableness  of  the  approach  to 
the  City  from  the  west  by  Holborn.     To  avoid 
the  dangerous  descent  of  Holborn  Hill,  it  was  at 
last  resolved  to  construct  a  viaduct  and  high-level 
bridge  over  Farringdon  Street,  and  so  to  supplant 
Skinner  Street,  and  form  a  spacious  and  pleasant 
thoroughfare  connecting  the  City  with  that  great 
Mediterranean  of  western    traffic,   Holborn   and 
Oxford  Street.     This  was  done  after  long  consulta- 
tion, the  consideration  of  many  different  schemes 
and  many  attempts,  not  always  successful,  to  recon- 
cile conflicting  interests.     The  works  were  com- 
menced in  May,   1863,  and  if  it  was  more  than 
six  years  before  the  valley  was  bridged  over,  and 
the  viaduct  opened  to  the  pubhc,  we  must  consider 
the  gigantic  nature  of  the  undertaking,  and  the 
delays  in  effecting  the  demolition  of  the  old  struc- 
tures  and   roadway,    embarrassed,  too,  by  much 
litigation.      The  cost  of  the  improvements  con- 
siderably exceeded  two  millions. 

The  scheme  was  originally  calculated  to  cost 
about  ;^i, 500,000,  the  Corporation  recouping 
themselves  to  the  extent  of  from  ;^6oo,ooo  or 
;^7oo,ooo,  by  the  sale  of  building  land  on  the 
sides  of  the  new  viaduct.  It  was  resolved  to  re- 
move the  whole  of  the  houses  and  shops  on  the 
south  side  of  Skinner  Street,  Snow  Hill,  from  the 
Old  Bailey  to  Farringdon  Street,  and  thence  to  the 
summit  of  Holborn  Hill,  while  all  the  houses  on 
the  northern  side  were  to  be  removed,  enormous 
sums  being  paid  in  compensation — in  one  case 
alone  about  ;^30,ooo  being  awarded. 

The  central  object  of  this  scheme  was  a  stately 
and  substantial  tiaduct  across  the  Holbom  Valley, 
between  Hatton  Garden  and  the  western  end  of 
Newgate  Street.  A  new  street  was  also  to  open 
from  opposite  Hatton  Garden,  and  pass  by  the 
back  of  St.  Andrew's  Church,  to  Shoe  Lane,  which 
was  to  be  widened  as  far  as  Stonecutter  Street. 
Thence  another  new  line  of  street,  fifty  feet  wide, 
and  with  easy  gradients,  was  to  be  formed  at  the 
east  end  of  Fleet  Street,  near  its  junction  with 
Farringdon  Street.  The  viaduct  across  Holborn 
Hill  was  to  be  eighty  feet  wide,  and  was  to  com- 
mence at  the  west  end  of  Newgate  Street. 

"  The  impression  left  upon  the  mind  after  a  first 
walk  from  Holborn  to  Newgate  Street,  along  the 
Viaduct,  is,"  says  a  writer  in  the  Builder,  "  that  of  a 
wide  and  level  thoroughfare  raised  above  the  old 
pavement,  and  of  a  spacious  bridge  crossing  the 


Holbom  Viaduct.] 


HOLBORN  VALLEY  IMPROVEMENTS. 


SOI 


busy  line  of  Farringdon  Street  below.  The  im- 
provement is  so  grand  and  yet  so  simple,  and  the 
direction  taken  by  the  new  road  is  so  obviously  the 
easiest  and  the  best,  that  difficulties  of  construction 
and  engineering  details  are  in  a  manner  lost  sight 
of,  and  it  is  not  until  the  work  concealed  from 
the  eye  is  dived  into,  that  the  true  nature  of  the 
undertaking  is  understood.  To  know  what  has 
been  accomplished,  and  to  appreciate  it  rightly,  the 
observer  must  leave  the  upper  level,  and  penetrate 
the  interior;  to  comprehend  his  subject,  he  must 
do  as  all  patient  learners  do — commence  at  the 
foundation. 

"  The  problem  that  the  engineer  had  to  work  out 
appears  at  first  sight  a  simple  one.  The  postulates 
were  a  bridge  crossing  the  great  artery  of  Farring- 
don Street,  and  a  level  causeway  on  either  side 
from  Ho)born  to  Newgate  Street.  Then  came 
considerations  of  detail  that  soon  assumed  a  com- 
plex and  difficult  shape.  Sewers,  and  gas,  and 
water-pipes  had  to  be  carried,  levels  to  be  re- 
garded, and  connection  with  lateral  thoroughfares 
had  to  be  maintained.  Then  arose  questions  of 
modes  of  construction.  Obviously,  a  solid  embank- 
ment was  not  possible,  and  an  open  arcade  would 
be  a  waste  of  valuable  space.  So  the  design 
gradually  shaped  itself  into  what  may  be  briefly  and 
accurately  described  as  a  plan  consisting  of  two 
lateral  passages,  one  on  either  side  supporting  the 
pavement,  and  cross  arches,  forming  vaults  between, 
and  carrying  the  carriage  roadway  above. 

"As  the  great  depth  of  the  Holbom  Valley  caused 
the  viaduct  to  be  of  considerable  height  at  its  point 
of  crossing  Farringdon  Street,  the  engineer  took  ad- 
vantage of  this  to  subdivide  his  vaulted  passages 
into  storeys,  and  these  accordingly  are  one,  two,  or 
three,  as  the  dip  of  the  level  permits.  First  is  appro- 
priated a  space  for  areas  and  vaulted  cellars  of  the 
houses,  and  then  against  these  is  at  top  a  subway, 
in  which  are  the  gas,  water,  and  telegraph  pipes; 
then  a  passage,  and  below  these  a  vaulted  chamber 
constructed  with  damp-proof  courses  through  its 
walls,  and  of  considerable  depth,  at  the  bottom  of 
which,  resting  on  a  concrete  bed,  is  the  sewer.    .    . 

"  The  height  of  these  subways  is  ii  feet  6  inches, 
and  their  width  7  feet.  They  are  constructed  of  brick- 
work, excepting  where  carried  over  the  London, 
Chatham,  and  Dover  Railway,  at  which  point  they 
are  of  tubular  form,  and  are  constructed  of  iron.   .  . 

"  The  subways  contain  ventilating  shafts,  which 
are  connected  with  trapped  gullies  in  the  roadway 
above ;  also  with  the  pedestals  of  the  lamp-posts, 
perforated  for  the  purpose,  and  with  flues  expressly 
directed  to  be  left  in  party-walls  of  buildings ;  all 
these  contrivances  being  made  for  the  carrying  off 


gases  that  may  escape,  especially  firom  leakage  from 
the   gas-mains.      Provision  is  made  for  the  easy 
ingress  of  workmen  and  materials,  and   the   sub-   . 
ways  are  lighted  by  means  of  gratings  filled  with 
globules  of  thick  glass." 

The  great  ornamental  feature  of  the  Viaduct  is 
the  bridge  across  Farringdon  Street.  Unfortunately 
for  the  effect,  it  is  a  skew-bridge — that  is,  it  crosses 
the  street  obliquely — but  the  design  is  rich  and 
striking.  It  is  a  cast-iron  girder-bridge,  in  three 
spans,  divided  by  the  six  granite  piers  which  carry 
the  girders.  These  piers  are  massive  hexagonal 
shafts  of  polished  red  granite,  resting  on  bases  of 
black  granite,  and  having  capitals  of  grey  granite 
with  bronze  leaves,  the  outer  piers  being,  however, 
carried  above  the  railing  on  the  parapet  of  the 
bridge,  and  terminating  in  pedestals,  on  which  are 
placed  colossal  bronze  statues.  These  statues  repre- 
sent Commerce  and  Agriculture  on  the  south,  and 
Science  and  Fine  Art  on  the  north  side.  The 
iron'  palisading  consists  of  circular  panels  united 
by  scrolls,  and  bearing  emblazonings  of  civic  crests 
and  devices,  with  the  City  arms  on  a  larger  scale. 
At  the  four  corners  of  the  bridge,  and  forming  an 
intrinsic  part  of  the  design,  are  lofty  houses,  of 
ornate  Renaissance  character,  within  which  are 
carried  flights  of  steps,  giving  means  of  commu- 
nication to  pedestrians  between  the  level  of  the 
Viaduct  and  that  of  Farringdon  Street.  The  fronts 
of  these  houses  are  adorned  with  the  statues  of 
four  civic  worthies  of  the  olden  time.  On  the 
north  are  Sir  Hugh  Middleton  (bom  1555,  died 
1631)  and  Sir  William  Walworth  (Mayor  1374  and 
1380) ;  and  on  the  south  are  Henry  Fitz-Eylwin 
(Mayor  1189  to  1212)  and  Sir  Thomas  Gresham 
(born  1519,  died  1579). 

On  the  south  side  of  the  Viaduct  are  the  new 
station  of  the  London,  Chatham,  and  Dover  Railway, 
and  the  new  Congregational  City  Temple,  erected  by 
the  congregation  of  Dr.  Joseph  Parker.  The  latter 
is  in  a  light  Italian  style  of  architecture.  The 
chapel  has  its  floor  on  a  level  with  the  roadway 
of  the  Viaduct,  and  is  seated  for  2,500  persons. 
Underneath  it  are  spacious  school  and  class-rooms, 
entering  from  Shoe  Lane.  Dr.  Parker's  congrega- 
tion used  to  meet  in  the  old  chapel  in  the  Poultry, 
but  that  building  was  found  too  small;  it  was 
therefore  sold,  and  the  present  one  was  erected,  at 
a  cost  of  ;^6o,ooo,  including  the  price  (;^2S,ooo) 
paid  for  the  site. 

The  length  of  the  Viaduct  from  Newgate  Street 
to  Holborn  is  about  1,400  feet,  and  the  width 
between. the  building-line  80  feet,  affording  space 
for  a  50-feet  carriage-way  in  the  centre,  and  two 
pavements,  each  15  feet  wide,  at  either  side.    The 


5b2 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[Holborn  Viaduct. 


surface  of  the  carriage-way  is  paved  with  cubes  of 
granite  9  inches  by  3  inches,  and  the  side  pave- 
ments are  laid  with  York  flags,  with  perforated 
gratings  to  light  the  subways. 

During  the  demolition  of  the   old   streets  and 
houses,  for  the  purpose  of  clearing  the  ground  for 
the  Viaduct,  nothing  of  any  special  value  or  inte- 
rest was  brought  to  light.     The  most  noteworthy 
incidents,  says  a  writer  in  the  Bnilder,  of  April 
24th,    1869,  were   "the  frequent  discovery  of  all 
sorts  of  concealed  passages  for  escape,  and  nooks 
for  hiding  plunder  in  the  villainous  old  houses  of 
Field  Lane  and  its  unsavoury  neighbourhood,  the 
removal  of  which  alone  should  cause  the  Holborn 
Valley  Improvement  to  be  considered  a  blessing  to 
this  part  of  London.     In  carrying  the  new  road 
through  St.  Andrew's  Churchyard,  a  large  slice  of 
the  ground  was  required,  and  this  compelled  the 
removal  of  a  great   number  of  human   remains  j 
between    11,000    and  12,000    were   therefore   de- 
corously transferred  to  the  City  Cemetery  at  Ilford." 
The  opening  of  Holborn  Viaduct  by  the  Queen 
took  place  on  the  6th  of  November,  1869,  the  same 
day  as  that  on  which  Her  Majesty  opened  the  new 
bridge  over  the  Thames  at  Blackfriars.     The  cere- 
mony was  an  imposing  one,  and  excited  uncommon 
interest  and  enthusiasm  amongst  all  classes  in  the 
metropolis.      The  day  fortunately  was  bright  and 
fair,  and,  leaving  out  of  account  a  momentary  inter- 
ruption of  its  sunshine,  was  as  good  as  could  have 
been  looked  for  in  November.     Blackfriars  Bridge 
having  been  opened,  and  k  loyal  address  from  the 
Corporation   of   London   having  previously   been 
presented,  the  combined  royal  and  civic  processions 
passed  up  Farringdon  Street  amidst  an  immense 
assemblage  of  people,  the  roadway  in  the  middle 
being  kept  clear  by  soldiers  and  policemen.     The 
Queen's  carriage  stopped  for  a  moment  before  the 
Viaduct  Bridge,  that  Her  Majesty  might  observe  the 
structure  from  below.      She  then  passed  under  it, 
and  turned  up  Charterhouse  Street  into  Smithfield, 
which  she  traversed  on  the  west  side  of  the  Meat 
Market.     Her  attention  was  particularly  directed 
to  the  market-building,  which  was  gorgeously  deco- 
rated with  flags  and  streamers.     From  West  Smith- 
field   the   procession  turned   into  Giltspur  Street, 
and  soon  the  neighbourhood  re-echoed  with  the 
cheering  of  the  Bluecoat  boys,  who,  to  the  number 
of  750,  were  assembled   in  their  playground,  to 
give  their  sovereign  a  loyal  welcome.     Under  St. 
Sepulchre's  Church  were  ranged  several  hundreds 
of  the  boys  and  girls  of   the  parish  and  charity 
schools;  and  what  with  their  shrill  acclamations, 
and  those  of  the  Bluecoat  boys  opposite,  the  effect 
is  said  to  have  been  startlina;. 


"  Here  was  the  east  end  of  the  Holborn  Valley 
Viaduct,  close  to  Newgate  Prison  and  St.  Sepulchre's 
Church.     Two  colossal  plaster  statues,  one  bearing 
the  palm  of  Victory,  the  other  the  olive-branch  of 
Peace,  were  set  up  at  the  entrance,  and  nume- 
rous banners  helped  the  general  effect.    Along  the 
level  approach   to   the  Viaduct,  which  was  from 
end  to  end  strewn  with  yellow  sand,  seats  were 
placed  under  cover,  and  in  well-arranged  blocks, 
for  the  guests   of  the  Corporation.     Above  these 
streamed  in  the  fresh  breeze  bannerets  of  the  dagger 
and  St.  George's  Cross  on  a  white  ground,  from 
days  immemorial  the  arms  of  the  City  of  London ; 
and  the  masts  to  which  they  were  attached  were 
painted  and  gilt.     The  pavilion,  which  had  seats 
for   600   spectators,  was   constructed  of  red  and 
white  striped   canvas   at  the   sides,  but  of  gold- 
coloured  hangings,  with  devices  in  colour  at  the 
end,   and  with   curtains  of  maroon  to  keep  out 
the  draughts.     The    royal   arms,   in   rich  gilding, 
surmounted  the  main  entrance,  supported  on  each 
hand  by  the  City  arms  above  the  side  divisions. 
Four  female   figures,    bearing  golden    baskets  of 
fruit,  were  placed  against  the  gilt  divisions  of  the 
pavilion ;  and  between  each  couple  of  fruit-bearers 
was  a  large  statue,  chosen  from  the  best  works  in 
the  possession  of  the   Crystal  Palace   Company." 
In  the  centre  of   the   pavilion   the  roadway  was 
narrowed,  so  that  the  dais  might  be  carried  close  to 
the  royal  carriage,  and  at  this  point  were  assembled 
as  a  deputation  to  receive  Her  Majesty,  Mr.  Deputy 
Fry,  the  chairman  of  the  Improvement  Committee, 
Alderman  Carter,  Sir  Benjamin  Phillips,  and  several 
members  of  the  Common  Council. 

The  visitors  accommodated  in  the  reserved  places 
all  rose  as  they  heard  the  welcome  of  the  boys  and 
children  at  Christ's  Hospital  and  St.  Sepulchre's, 
and  then  took  up  the  cheering.  The  procession 
slowly  passed  along  the  viaduct.  More  than  once 
it  came  to  a  stop  as  the  carriage  of  the  Lord 
Mayor  or  an  alderman  halted  at  the  platform  in 
the  paviKon,  and  its  occupants  ahghted.  When 
Her  Majesty  reached  the  platform  and  the  carriage 
halted,  the  Lord  Mayor  presented  Mr.  Deputy  Fry 
and  Mr.  Haywood,  the  engineer  of  the  viaduct. 
Mr.  Fry  then  handed  to  the  Queen  a  volume  elabo- 
rately bound  in  cream-coloured  morocco,  relieved 
with  gold,  and  ornamented  with  the  Royal  arms  of 
England,  in  mosaic  of  leather  and  gold ;  and  Her 
Majesty  declared  the  viaduct  open  for  public  traffic. 
The  Lord  Mayor  and  the  other  civic  dignitaries 
then  took  leave  of  Her  Majesty  and  returned  to 
their  carriages,  and  the  procession  again  got  under 
weigh.      But  it  broke  up  immediately  on  passing 


through   the  gates  of  the  temporary  barrier,  and 


Holbom  Viaduct.1 


ST.  ANDREW'S,  HOLBORN. 


S03 


the  Lord  Mayor  and  his  company  turned  towards 
the  City,  whilst  Her  Majesty  drove  quickly  up 
Holbom,  and  so  by  Oxford  Street  to  Paddington 
Station,  from  whence  she  returned  by  special  train 
to  Windsor. 

No  sooner  was  this  gigantic  undertaking  com- 
pleted, and  the  viaduct  open  for  traffic,  than  an 
alarm  was  raised — cracks  had  appeared  in  some  of 
the  great  polished  granite  pillars  which  supported 
the  bridge  over  Farringdon  Street.  A  liyely  news- 
paper correspondence  was  the  result,  and  many 
wise  things  were  said  on  both  sides ;  but  the  pillars 
have  borne  heavy  traffic  and  all  the  changes  of 
temperature  since  then  without  any  perceptible 
extension  of  the  flaw,  and  the  safety  of  the  work  is 
no  longer,  if  it  ever  was  seriously,  in  doubt. 

The  present  church  of  St.  Andrew's,  Holborn, 
was  erected  by  Wren,  in  1686,  on  the  site  of  the 
old  church,  in  the  Ward  of  Farringdon  Without. 
Let  us  begin  by  speaking  of  the  history  of  the  old 
building.  The  exact  date  of  its  foundation  is 
uncertain,  but  in  1297  we  find  it  given  by  one 
Gladerinus  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's; 
it  being  stipulated  at  ihe  same  time  that  the  church 
should  be  held  of  them  by  the  Abbot  and  Convent 
of  Bermondsey.  The  monasteries  being  dissolved 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIIL,  the  right  of  presenta- 
tion devolved  to  the  Crown,  and  the  king  made  it 
over  to  Thomas  Lord  Wriothesley,  afterwards  Lord 
Chancellor  and  Earl  of  Southampton,  who  died 
July  30th,  1550,  and  was  buried  in  St.  Andrew's. 
At  a  later  date  the  right  of  presentation  became 
vested  in  the  Duke  of  Buccleugh.  The  first  vicar 
mentioned  by  Newcourt  goes  urider  the  name  of 
Richard  de  Tadeclowe  ;  he  was  appointed,  before 
the  year  1322,  and  among  those  who  succeeded 
him  in  the  old  church  were  Thomas  de  Cottingham, 
in  1343,  keeper  of  the  Great  Seal,  and  Gilbert 
Worthington,  in  1443. 

As  to  the  appearance  of  the  original  building,  we 
learn  from  the  will  of  Gilbert  Worthington,  printed 
by  Strype,  that  there  were  four  altars  in  it,  if  not 
more.  The  steeple  was  commenced  in  1446,  but 
from  Some  cause  or  other  it  was  not  finished  till 
1468.  During  the  interval  the  north  and  south 
aisles  were  rebuilt.  At  the  general  clearance  of  the 
Reformation  St.  Andrew's  fared  no  better  than  its 
neighbours  :  in  the  first  year  of  Edward  VI.  many 
of  the  altars  and  statues  were  removed,  and  in  that 
year  and  in  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth 
the  numerous  monumental  brasses  of  this  church 
were  converted  into  current  coin  of  the  realm. 

When  the  Great  Fire  ravaged  the  City,  the  church 
escaped  ;  but  being  in  a  hopelessly  ruinous  con- 
dition it  was  taken  down,  with  the  exception  of  the 


tower,  about  ten  years  after  that  event,  and  a  new 
building  was  in  course  of  time  erected  in  accord- 
ance with  designs  furnished  by  the  great  architect, 
Sir  Christopher  Wren. 

The  interior  of  this  new  church  consisted  of 
a  nave,  two  aisle^  and  chancel;  and  has  been 
praised  by  many  writers  for  its  magnificence  and 
beauty.  Mr.  Godwin,  however,  remarks  that  "  an 
alteration  in  taste,  as  regards  architectural  produc- 
tions, has  been  produced.  The  value  of  simplicity 
and  breadth  of  parts,  in  opposition  to  minute  divi- 
sions and  elaborate  ornament,  has  been  admitted ; 
and  therefore,  although  it  may  be  regarded  as  a 
large  and  commodious  church — a  good  specimen 
of  the  style  in  which  it  is  built,  and  as  a  construc- 
tion well  executed — it  will  not  again  obtain  the 
unconditional  praise  which  was  formerly  bestowed 
upon  it. 

"  Pillars,"  adds  Mr.  Godwin,  describing  the 
church  interior  as  it  appeared  when  he  wrote,  in 
1839,  "cased  with  wainscot,  support  a  gallery  on 
either  side ;  and  at  the  west  end,<  and  from  the 
top  of  the  gallery-front,  rise  diminutive  Corinthian 
columns  bearing  small  blocks  intended  to  represent 
an  entablature,  reminding  one  of  the  columns  with 
the  two  chapiters  or  capitals,  called  Jachin  and 
Boaz,  mentioned  in  the  description  of  Solomon's 
Temple.  A  wagon-headed  ceiling  of  large  span, 
in  panels,  supported  on  these  blocks,  and  adorned 
with  festoons  of  flowers  and  fruit,  covers  the  body 
of  the  church.  The  ceiling  of  the  aisles  is  groined, 
and  opens  into  the  wagon-headed  ceiling,  forming 
an  arch  between  each  of  the  columns.  At  the  west 
end  of  the  church  there  is  a  second  gallery,  at  a  great 
height  from  the  ground,  which  is  appropriated  to 
the  children  of  the  Sunday  schools.  On  the  wall 
behind  it  were  formerly  some  large  paintings,  but 
these  have  been  obliterated. 

"  The  chancel  is  somewhat  richly  adorned  with 
paintings,  gilding,  and  stained  glass  ;  and  the  walls 
are  covered  with  wainscot,  which  is  veined  to 
imitate  Sienna  marble,,  as  high  as  the  ceiling. 
Above  the  carved  altar-piece  is  a  large  Palladian 
window  in  two  storeys,  containing  in  sta,ined  glass 
a  representation  of  the  Last  Supper,  and  of  the 
Ascension,  executed  by  Price  of  York,  in  17 18. 
The  colours  are  for  the.  most  part  brilliant ;  but  as 
a  work  of  art,  the  window  is  not  deserving  of 
commendation.  On  eijher  side  of  it  are  two  large 
paintings  (apparently  in  fresco)  of  St.  Andrew  and 
St.  Peter,  and  two  smaller  panels  representing  the 
Holy  Family  and  the  infant  St.  John.  In  the 
ceiling  of  the  chancel  is  introduced  a  glazed  light, 
whereon  is  painted  the  dove.  There  are  two 
other  windows  at  the  east  end  of  the  church  which 


5*4 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[St.  Andrew's,  Holborn. 


are  filled  with  stained  glass,  namely,  one  in  the 
north  aisle  containing  the  royal  arms,  and  those  of 
the  donor,  inscribed :  '  1687.  Ex  dono  Thomse 
Hodgson  de  Bramwill  in  Agro  Eboracen.  Militis ;' 
and  another,  at  the  end  of  the  south  aisle,  repre- 
senting the  arms  of  John  Thavi»,  Esq.,  who,  in  the 
year  1348,  '  left  a  considerable  estate  towards  the 
support  of  this  fabric  for  ever.' " 

Towards  the  close  of  1872,  St.  Andrew's  under- 


In  addition  to  these  alterations,  the  church 
was  re-decorated.  The  nave  ceiling  and  groined 
ceilings  of  the  galleries  were  painted  in  panels  of  a 
tempered  turquoise  blue  as  a  ground-colour,  with 
margins  in  stone  and  vellum,  the  enrichments  being 
in  white.  The  blue  grounds  were  filled  with  a 
classic  diaper,  in  self-colouring  and  white,  the 
walls  being  a  neutral  of  silver  grey.  The  shafts  of 
columns  were  finished  in  Indian  red.    The  chancel 


THE  WEST   END   OF  ST.    ANDREW'S,    SHOWING  THE   GOTHIC  ARCH. 


went  a  most  thorough  overhauling,  and  was  re- 
opened for  public  worship  on  Sunday,  the  13th  of 
October  of  that  year.  The  ancient  tower,  which 
used  to  be  separated  from  the  nave  of  the  church 
by  a  screen-wall,  with  a  gallery  in  front,  was  thrown 
open  to  the  nave  by  the  removal  of  the  wall  and 
gallery. 

A  ritual  chancel  was  formed  at  the  east  end,  the 
floor-level  of  which  was  raised  two  feet  above  the 
floor-line  of  the  nave,  and  choir-stalls  were  arranged 
rforth  and  south  of  the  same.  The  old  high-backed 
square  pewing  was  removed,  and  in  its  place  new 
low  oak  seating  was  substituted.  The  old  windows 
were  done  away  with,  and  new  iron  ones  took  their 
place,  glazed  with  tinted  cathedral  glass. 


ceiling  was  treated  in  the  same  manner  as  that  of 
the  nave,  with  this  exception,  that  the  enricliments 
to  the  panels  were  gilded. 

A  new  organ  was  also  constructed.  It  spans 
over  the  Gothic  arch,  and  rests  upon  the  galleries 
on  either  side. 

The  church  contains  a  carved  oak  pulpit,  and 
a  sculptured  marble  font,  displaying  four  cherubim. 
The  whole  length  of  the  building  is  stated  as  105 
feet,  the  breadth  63  feet,  and  the  height  43  feet. 

The  old  organ  of  St.  Andrew's,  made  by  Harris, 
was  celebrated  as  being  part  of  the  discarded  in- 
strument in  the  contest  for  superiority  between 
Father  Schmydt  and  Harris,  at  the  Temple  Church. 
This  contest  has  been  described  by  us  at  page  145 


St.  Andrew's,  Holborn.] 


EMERY,  THE  COMEDIAN. 


505 


Vol.  I.  When  Dr.  Sacheverell  entered  upon  the 
living  of  St.  Andrew's,  he  found  that  the  organ, 
not  having  been  paid  for,  had,  from  its  erection  in 
1699,  been  shut  up ;  he  therefore  had  a  collection 
made  among  his  parishioners,  raised  the  amount, 
and  paid  for  the  instrument. 

There  are  no  remarkable  features  to  be  pointed 
out  in  connection  with  the  exterior  of  the  church. 
It  is  divided  into  two  storeys,  and  terminates  with 


that  the  basement  is  there  considerably  elevated 
above  the  houses.'' 

Among  the  tablets  in  the  church  is  one  men- 
tioned by  Godwin  as  affixed  to  the  north  wall,  and 
inscribed  to  Mr.  John  Emery,  the  famous  comedian, 
who  died  on  the  2Sth  of  July,  1822.  It  bears  the 
following  couplet  :— 

"  Each  part  he  shone  in,  but  excelled  in  none 
So  well  as  husband,  father,  friend,  and  son. " 


INTERIOR   OF  ST.  ANDREW'S   CHURCH. 


a  cornice  and  balustrade.  "  The  old  Gothic  tower," 
says  Mr.  Godwin,  "notwithstanding  it  was  re-cased 
and  adorned  with  vanes  and  pine-apples  at  the 
four  comers,  is  still  to  be  detected  by  the  large 
buttresses  left  standing  at  the  angles,  and  the  small 
pointed  windows  remaining  in  the  lower  storey. 
The  windows  in  the  belfrey  are  singularly  confused 
and  ugly."  The  height  of  the  tower  is  reported  to 
be  1 10  feet ;  there  are  188  steps  from  the  bottom  of 
it  to  the  top. 

St.  Andrews,  says  Mr.  Godwin,  is  one  of  the 
best-placed  churches  in  London,  "  for  as  the  west 
end  is  nearly  at  the  summit  of  Holborn  Hill,  the 
foundation  was^ecessarily  continued  throughout 
on  this  level,  to  the  east  end  in  Shoe  Lane;  so 
91— Vol.  if. 


Emery  was  born  at  Sunderland,  on  the  22nd  of 
December,  1777,  and  was  educated  at  Ecclesfield, 
in  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire;  and  it  was 
there  doubtless  that  he  acquired  that  knowledge  of 
the  Yorkshire  dialect  which  obtained  for  him  so 
much  celebrity.  His  first  appearance  on  the  stage 
was  at  Brighton,  in  "Crazy"  ("Peeping  Tom"). 
He  was  excellent  in  his  representation  of  the  stupid 
dolt,  and  the  arch,  unsophisticated  child  of  nature. 
"  B.is  forU,"  says  Talfourd,  "lay  in  showing  the 
might  of  human  passion  and  affection,  not  only 
unaided  by  circumstance,  but  attended  by  every- 
thing which  could  tend  to  associate  them  with  the 
ludicrous  or  the  vulgar.  The  parts  in  which  he 
displayed  this  prodigious  power  were  as  far  as  pos- 


So6 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[St.  Andrew's,  HolboW. 


sible  removed  from  the  elegant  and  romantic,  and 
his  own  stout  frame  and  broad  iron  countenance 
did  not  give  him  any  extrinsic  aid  to  refine  or  exalt 
them.  But  in  spite  of  all  these  obstacles,  the 
energy  of  passion  or  the  strength  of  agony  was 
triumphant.  Every  muscle  was  strained  to  burst- 
ing, and  every  fibre  informed  with  sense  and 
feeling;  every  quiver  of  the  lip,  and  involuntary 
action  of  the  hands,  spoke  the  might  of  that  emo- 
tion which  he  was  more  than  counterfeiting;  and 
all  little  provincialisms,  all  traits  of  vulgarity,  were 
forgotten  in  wonder  and  sympathy.  .  .  .  His 
'  Tyke '  was  the  grandest  specimen  of  the  rude  sub- 
lime ;  his  '  Giles,'  in  the  Miller's  Man,  was  almost 
as  intense,  and  the  whole  conception  of  a  loftier 
cast." 

A  fiery  zealot  of  the  days  of  English  history 
lies  buried  here — Thomas  Wriothesley,  Lord  Chan- 
cellor in  the  latter  part  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII. 
This  influential  statesman  was  no  wiser  than  his 
generation  in  respect  to  persecution.  "Not  con- 
tent with  seeing  the  amiable  Anne  Askew  put  to  the 
torture,"  says  Pennant,  "for  no  other  crime  than 
difference  in  faith,  he  flung  off  his  gown,  degraded 
the  Chancellor  into  the  Bourreau,'  and  with  his 
own  hands  gave  force  to  the  rack.  He  was  created 
Earl  of  Southampton  just  before  the  coronation  of 
Edward  VI.,  but  obstinately  adhering  to  the  old 
religion,  he  was  dismissed  from  his  post,  and  con- 
.  fined  to  Southampton  House,  where  he  died  in 
ISSO-" 

One  of  the  congenial  tasks  Wriothesley  had  to 
perform  during  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  was  to 
impeach  and  arrest  the  queen,  Catherine  Parr,  for 
her  supposed  heterodoxy.  When  he  arrived,  how- 
ever, to  take  her  into  custody,  the  king  had  made 
friends  again  with  his  sixth  and  last  wife,  and  the 
chancellor  was  dismissed,  his  Majesty  calling  him 
knave,  an  arrant  knave,  a  fool,  a  beast,  and  such- 
like complimentary  names.  It  was  the  influence 
of  Wriothesley  which  chiefly  led  to  the  execution 
of  the  Earl  of  SuiTey,  and  the  attainder  of  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  in  1547.  He  was  one  of  the 
executors  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  an  opponent  of  the 
Protector  Somerset. 

Another  of  those  buried  in  this  church  was 
Henry  Sacheverell,  who  died  in  1724.  He  was 
laid  in  the  chancel,  where  there  is  an  inscription 
on  the  pavement  to  his  memory.  It  may  well  be 
left  to  another  occasion  to  tell  the  story  of  this 
divine,  and  of  the  two  famous  sermons  which  he 
preached  at  Derby  and  at  St.  Paul's,  with  the 
object  of  exciting  alarm  for  the  safety  of  the  Church, 
and  creating  hostility  against  the  Dissenters.  Being 
impeached  in  the  House  of  Commons,  in  the  year 


1 7 10,  he  was  sentenced  to  be  suspended  from 
preaching  for  three  years.  But  this  prosecution 
estabUshed  the  popularity  of  the  preacher ;  and  the 
very  month  that  his  suspension  terminated,  he  was 
appointed  to  the  valuable  rectory  of  St.  Andrew's, 
Holborn.  Like  many  who  owe  their  popularity  to 
circumstances,  rather  than  to  any  merit  of  their 
own,  Sacheverell  dropped,  in  Holborn,  into  com- 
parative obscurity,  and  nothing  worthy  of  note  is 
told  of  him,  but  that  his  quarrels  with  his  parish- 
ioners were  by  no  means  unfrequent — ^just  as  one 
might  have  expected  from  so  pugnacious  a  cha- 
racter. He  had  the  good  luck,  during  his  latter 
days,  to  inherit  a  considerable  fortune. 

There  is  much  of  interest  connected  with  the 
registers  of  St.  Andrew's.  Some  of  the  books  are 
dated  as  far  back  as  1558,  the  first  year  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  reign.  One  of  the  volumes,  containing 
entries  from  1653  to  1658,  is  wholly  occupied  with 
proclamations  of  marriage  during  the  interregnum, 
when  they  were  published  in  the  market-place.  For 
example :  "  An  agreement  and  intent  of  marriage 
between  John  Law  and  Ffrances  Riley,  both  servants 
to  the  Lady  Brooke,  of  this  parish,  was  published 
three  several  markett-days  in  Newgate  Markett; 
and  in  three  several  weeks,  that  is  to  say,  &c."  In 
various  parts  of  this  book  the  church  is  spoken  of 
as  the  "  Public  Meeting-place,  commonly  called  St. 
Andrew's,  Holborn." 

The  extract  quoted  above  from  the  register  is  an 
illustration  of  a  curious  chapter  in  the  history  of 
raaniage  customs  and  laws  in  England.  By  a 
statute  of  August,  1653,  the  betrothed  couple  were 
allowed  to  choose  whether  they  would  be  "  asked" 
in  church  or  chapel  on  three  several  Sundays,  or 
cried  in  the  open  market  on  three  consecutive 
market-days,  at  the  town  nearest  their  ordinary 
place  of  worship.  This  was  the  assertion  with  a 
vengeance  of  the  civil  nature  of  the  marriage 
contract.  If  the  lovers  chose  the  latter  method, 
their  proposed  union  was  in  most  cases  proclaimed 
by  the  bellman,  though  the  kind  offices  of  that 
ofliicial  were  not  legally  required  for  making  the 
announcement.  "In  the  absence  of  conclusive 
evidence  on  the  matter,"  says  Mr.  J.  C.  Jeaffreson, 
the  historian  of  "  Brides  and  Bridals,"  "  I  have  no 
doubt  that  the  street  banns  of  our  forefathers,  in 
Cromwell's  England,  were  rarely  proclaimed  by 
clergymen.  On  the  other  hand  it  is  certain  that 
the  bellman  was,  in  many  places,  regularly  employed 
to  cry  aloud  for  impediments  to  the  wedding  of 
precise  lovers." 

The  parish  register  contains  two  interesting 
entries  of  marriage,  the  first  of  which  is  that  of 
Edward  Coke,   "the   Queen's  Attorney-General," 


St,  Andrew's,  Holborn.] 


A  LOVE  STORY. 


5°7 


and  "my  Lady  Elizabeth  Hatton,"  in  1598.  This 
lady  was  the  relict  of  Sir  William  Hatton,  and  the 
daughter  of  the  celebrated  Thomas  Lord  Burleigh, 
afterwards  Earl  of  Exeter.  She  became  Coke's 
second  wife,  his  first  having  been'  a  lady  of  the 
ancient  and  highly-connected  family  of  the  Pastons, 
by  whom  he  had  the  large  sum  for  those  days  of 
;^3o,ooo.  By  the  widow  of  Sir  William  he  also 
obtained  a  considerable  addition  to  his  property ; 
but  his  marriage  with  her  is  but  another  example 
to  be  added  to  the  list  of  the  unfortunate  matri- 
monial aUiances  of  distinguished  men.  The  cele- 
bration of  the  ceremony  involved  both  parties  in 
some  difficulty.  There  had  been,  the  same  year, 
a  great  deal  of  notice  taken  of  irregular  marriages, 
and  Archbishop  Whitgift  had  intimated  to  the 
bishops  of  his  province  that  all  who  oifended  in 
point  of  time,  place,  or  form  were  to  be  prosecuted 
with  the  utmost  rigour  of  the  law.  Coke,  however, 
seems  to  have  presumed  on  his  own  and  the  lady's 
position,  or  on  his  acquaintance,  if  not  friendship, 
with  the  prelate,  and  he  disregarded  the  statute,  and 
was  married  in  a  private  house,  without  even  having 
had  the  banns  published  or  a  licence  obtained. 
But  this  act  of  contumacy  was  not  passed  over. 
Coke,  the  newly-married  lady,  the  minister  who 
officiated.  Lord  Burleigh,  and  several  other  persons, 
were  prosecuted  in  the  ecclesiastical  court;  but 
upon  their  submission  by  their  proxies,  the  whole 
affair  ended  in  smoke;  they  were  absolved  from 
excommunication,  and  the  penalties  consequent 
upon  it,  because,  says  the  record,  they  had  offended 
not  out  of  contumacy,  but  through  ignorance  of  the 
law  in  that  point.  It  strikes  one,  at  this  distance 
of  time,  that  the  suit]  may  have  been  commenced 
merely  for  the  sake  of  public  example. 

Lady  Elizabeth  Hatton  proved  a  Tartar.    When, 
many  years  afterwards,  Sir  Edward  Coke  proposed 
a  marriage  between  his  younger  daughter  by  Lady 
Hatton  and  Sir  John  Villiers,  she  raised  a  tempest, 
and  resenting  her  husband's  attempt  to  dispose  of 
the  daughter  without  asking  her  consent,  carried 
the  young  lady  off,  and  lodged  her  at  Sir  Edmund 
Withipole's,    near    Oatlands.      Sir    Edward    com- 
plained to  the  Privy  Council,  and  then  went  with 
his  sons  to  Oatlands  and  captured  his  daughter, 
a  proceeding  which  induced  Lady  Hatton  to  com- 
plain to  the  Privy  Council  in   her  turn.     Much 
confusion  followed,  but  at  last  the  marriage  of  the 
young  couple  actually  did  take  place.     Then  the 
ill-will  between  the  old  people  broke  out  again,  and 
many  letters  are  still  in  existence,  showing  a  great 
deal  of  heat  and  resentment  in  both  parties.    At  one 
time  Sir  Edward  publicly  accused  his  wife  of  having 
purloined  his  plate,  and  substituted  counterfeited 


alkumy  in  its  place,  with  intent  to  defraud  him ; 
but  she  had  quite  as  good  to  say  about  him.  In 
about  four  years  their  reconciliation  seems  to  have 
been  effected,  and  that  by  no  less  a  mediator  than 
James  I.,  but  they  never  enjoyed  anything  like 
domestic  happiness. 

The  other  entry  of  marriage  is  that  of  Colonel 
Hutchinson  and  Lucy  Apsley,  in  1638.  And  here, 
by  way  of  contrast  to  the  last,  we  have  one  of  the 
most  touching  instances  of  womanly  affection  that 
ever  was  set  down  in  writing.  Mrs.  Hutchinson  is 
best  known  by  her  "  Memoirs"  of  the  life  of  her 
husband,  a  charming  volume  of  biography.  The 
account  given  by  her  of  the  courtship  which  led 
up  to  the  ceremony  before  the  altar  of  St.  Andrew's 
is  a  narrative  which  all  should  read,  and  which  all 
will  enjoy. 

Mr.  Hutchinson  fell  in  love  with  the  lady  before 
seeing  her.  He  had  been  invited  to  go  to  Rich- 
mond by  his  music-master,  a  man  who  stood  high 
in  his  profession,  and  had  been  warned  by  a  friend 
to  take  heed  of  the  place,  for  it  was  so  fatal  to 
love,  that  never  any  young  disengaged  person  went 
thither  who  returned  again  free.  He  determined, 
however,  to  ruh  the  risk,  and  went.  The  musi- 
cian's house  was  a  lively  one,  frequented  by  much 
good  company,  including  gentlemen  and  ladies 
connected  with  the  court,  and  many  of  the  king's 
musicians. 

There  happened  to  be  boarded  there,  for  the 
practice  of  the  lute,  and  till  the  return  of  her 
mother,  a  younger  daughter  of  Sir  Allen.  Apsley, 
late  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower.  The  mother  had 
gone  into  Wiltshire  to  complete  a  treaty,  in  which 
some  progress  had  been  made,  about  the  marriage 
of  her  elder  daughter.  "  This  young  girl,"  says 
Mrs.  Hutchinson,  "  that  was  left  in  the  house  with 
Mr.  Hutchinson,  was  a  very  child,  her  elder  sister 
being  at  that  time  scarcely  past  it,  but  a  child 
of  such  pleasantness  and  vivacity  of  spirit,  and 
ingenuity  in  the  quaUty  she  practised,  that  Mr. 
Hutchinson  took  pleasure  in  hearing  her  practise, 
and  would  fall  in  a  discourse  with  her.  She  having 
the  keys  of  her  mother's  house,  some  half  a  mile 
distant,  would  sometimes  ask  Mr.  Hutchinson,  when 
she  went  over,  to  walk  along  with  her. 

"  One  day,  when  he  was  there,  looking  upon  an 
odd  by-shelf  in  her  sister's  closet,  he  found  a  few 
Latin  books.  Asking  whose  they  were,  he  was  told 
they  were  her  elder  sister's,  whereupon,  inquiring 
more  after  her,  he  began  first  to  be  sorry  she  was 
gone  before  he  had  seen  her,  and  gone  upon  such  an 
account  that  he  was  not  likely  to  see  her.  Then 
he  grew  to  love  to  hear  mention  of  her,  and  the 
other  gendewomen  who  had  been  her  companions 


5o8 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[St.  Andrew's,  Holbom. 


used  to  talk  much  to  him  of  her,  telling  him  how 
reserved  and  studious  she  was,  and  other  things 
which  they  esteemed  no  advantage ;  but  it  so  much 
inflamed  Mr.  Hutchinson's  desire  of  seeing  her, 
that  he  began  to  wonder  at  himself  that  his  heart, 
which  had  ever  had  such  an  indifferency  for  the 
most  excellent  ofwomenkind,  should  have  so  strong 
impulses  towards  a  stranger  he  never  saw ;  and  cer- 
tainly it  was  of  the  Lord  (though  he  perceived  it 
not),  who  had  ordained  him,  through  so  many  pro- 
vidences, to  be  yoked  with  her  in  whom  he  found 
so  much  satisfaction."  Her  praises  continued  to  be 
daily  sounded  in  his  ears ;  but  at  last  news  arrived 
which  led  all  the  company  present  one  day  at  table 
to  conclude  that  Miss  Lucy — or  "  Mrs."  Lucy,  as 
young  ladies  used  to  be  called  then — was  really 
married.  Mr.  Hutchinson  immediately  turned  pale 
as  ashes,  and  had  to  retire  from  table  to  conceal 
his  agitation. 

But  it  proved  a  false  alarm,  and  some  little  time 
after  she  made  her  appearance,  and  the  lover,  who 
had  fallen  in  love  with  a  shadow,  met  the  reality. 
"  His  heart,  being  prepossessed  with  his  own  fancy, 
was  not  free  to  discern  how  little  there  was  in  her 
to  answer  so  great  an  expectation.      She  was  not 
ugly,  in  a  careless  riding  habit ;  she  had  a  melan- 
choly negligence  both  of  herself  and  others,  as  if 
she   neither  affected  to  please   others,    nor  took 
notice  of  anything  before  her ;   yet  in  spite  of  all 
her    indifferency,    she   was    surprised   with   some 
unusual    liking  in  her    soul  when   she   saw  this 
gentleman,  who  had  hair,  eyes,  shape,  and  counte- 
nance enough  to  beget  love  in  any  one  at  the  first, 
and   these  set  off  with  a  graceful   and  generous 
mien,  which  promised  an  extraordinary  person ;  he 
was  at  that  time,  and  indeed  always,  very  neatly 
habited,  for  he  wore  good  and  rich  clothes,  and 
had  variety  of  them,,  and  had  them  well  suited, 
and   every   way  answerable ;    in    that  litde  thing 
showing  both  good  judgment  and  great  generosity, 
he  equally  becoming  them  and  they  him,  which  he 
wore  with  such  unaffectedness  and  such  neatness,  as 
do  not  often  meet  in  one.      Although  he  had  but 
an  evening  sight  of  her  he  had  so  long  desired, 
and  that  at  disadvantage  enough  for  her,  yet  the 
prevailing  sympathy  of  his    soul  made  him  think 
all  his  pains  well  paid ;  and  this  first  did  whet  his 
desire'  to  a  second  sight,  which  he  had  by  accident 
the  next  day,  and,  to  his  joy,  found  she  was  wholly 
disengaged  from   that  treaty  which  he  so  much 
feared  had  been  accomplished ;  he  found  withal, 
that  though  she  was  modest,  she  was  accostable, 
and  willing  to  entertain  his  acquaintance.      This 
soon  passed  into  a  mutual  friendship  between  them, 
and  though  she  innocently  thought  nothing  of  love, 


yet  was  she  glad  to  have  acquired  such  a  friend, 
who  had  wisdom  and  virtue  enough  to  be  trusted 
with  her  councils,  for  she  was  then  much  perplexed 
in  mind.  Her  mother  and  friends  had  a  great 
desire  she  should  marry,  and  were  displeased  that 
she  refused  man^  offers  which  they  thought  advan- 
tageous enough;  she  was  obedient,  loath  to  dis- 
please them,  but  more  herself,  in  marrying  such  as 
she  could  find  no  inclination  to." 

It  was   not  long  before  friendship  on  her  part 
passed  into  love;   but   of  their  mutual  affection 
in  its  full   height  Mrs.  Hutchinson  limits  herself 
to  saying  this,  "There  never  was  a  passion  more 
ardent  and   less  idolatrous;  he   loved  her  better 
than   his  life,   with  inexpressible  tenderness  and 
kindness;  had   a  most   high   obliging  esteem  of 
her,  yet  still  considered  honour,  religion,  and  duty 
above  her,  nor  ever  suffered  the  intrusion  of  such 
a  dotage  as  should  blind  him  from  marking  her 
imperfections;  these   he   looked  upon  with  such 
an  indulgent  eye  as  did  not  abate  his  love  and 
esteem  of  her,  while  it  augmented  his  care  to  blot 
out  all  those  spots  which  might  make  her  appear 
less  worthy  of  that  respect  he  paid  her ;  and  thus, 
indeed,  he  soon  made  her  more  equal  to  him  than 
he  found  her  ;    for  she  was  a  very  faithful  mirror, 
reflecting  truly,  though  but  dimly,  his  own  glories 
upon  him,  so  long  as  he  was  present.     But  she, 
that  was  nothing  before  his  inspection  gave  her  a 
fair  figure,  when  he  was  removed,  was  only  filled 
with  a  dark  mist,  and  never  could  again  take  in 
any  delightful  object,  nor  return  any  shining  repre- 
sentation.     The  greatest  excellency  she  had  was 
the  power  of  apprehending,  and  the  virtue  of  loving 
his ;  so,  as  his  shadow,  she  waited  on  him  every- 
where, till  he  was  taken  into  that  region  of  light 
that  admits  of  none,  and  then  she  vanished  into 
nothing." 

Unfortunately,  the  ve^  day  the  friends  on 
both  sides  met  to  conclude  the  marriage,  she  fell 
ill  of  the  small-pox.  "First  her  life  was  almost 
in  desperate  hazard,  and  then  the  disease,  for 
the  present,  made  her  the  most  .deformed  person 
that  could  be  seen  for  a  great  while  after  she 
recovered.  Yet  Mr.  Hutchinson  was  nothing 
troubled  at  it,  but  married  her  as  soon  as  she  was 
able  to  quit  the  chamber,  when  the  priest  and  all 
that  saw  her  were  affrighted  to  look  on  her ;  but 
God  recompensed  his  justice  and  constancy  by 
restoring  her,  though  she  was  longer  than  ordinary 
before  she  recovered,  as  well  as  before.  .  .  • 
On  the  third  day  of  July,  1638,  he  was  married  to 
Mrs.  Lucy  Apsley,  the  second  daughter  of  Sir  Allan 
Apsley,  late  lieutenant  of  the  Tower  of  London, 
at  St.  Andrew's  Church,  in  Holborn."    The  newly- 


St.  Andrew's,  Holborn.] 


ST.  ANDREW'S  CHURCHYARD. 


509 


married  couple  lived  for  some  time  afterwards  in 
this  neighbourhood. 

Their  subsequent  career  need  only  be  glanced 
at.  In  1642  Mr.  Hutchinson  became  a  lieutenant- 
colonel  in  the  parliamentary  army,  and  in  1643 
was  appointed  governor  of  Nottingham  Castle. 
He  took  an  active  part  in  the  struggles  of  the  civil 
war,  and  in  the  government  of  the  days  of  the 
Commonwealth,  and  proved  himself  a  true  patriot, 
honest  and  earnest  in  his  endeavours  to  serve  the 
best  interests  of  his  country.  He  was  an  uncom- 
promising republican,  brave,  high-minded,  and 
unaffectedly  pious.  At  the  Restoration  he  was 
discharged  from  Parliament,  and  from  all  offices  of 
state  forever.  In  October,  1663,  he  was  arrested, 
imprisoned  at  Newark,  thence  carried  to  the  Tower, 
and  in  the  next  year  removed  to  Sandown  Castle, 
where  he  fell  ill  and  died  on  the  nth  of  September, 
1664.  His  noble  wife  was  refused  permission  to 
share  his  confinement. 

Richard  Savage,  the  poet,  son  of  the  unnatural 
Countess  of  Macclesfield,  was,  according  to  Dr. 
Johnson,  christened  in  this  church  by  the  direction 
of  Lord  Rivers,  his  reputed  father,  in  1697-8. 

In  the  register  of  burials  of  St.  Andrew's  parish, 
under  the  date  August  28,  1770,  appears  the  follow- 
ing entry : — "  William  Chatterton,  Brooks  Street ;" 
to  which  has  been  added,  probably  by  an  after 
incumbent,  "the  poet,"  signed  "J.  Mill."  The 
addition  is  perfectly  correct,  although  the  poet's 
Christian  name  was  Thomas,  not  William,  and  this 
slight  memorial  is  the  only  record  in  the  church 
of  the  end  of  a  short  chapter  in  the  annals  of 
genius.  We  shall  have  more  to  say  on  the  subject 
of  this  unfortunate  bard,  as  well  as  on  the  equally 
melancholy  career  of  Richard  Savage,  when  we 
come  shortly  to  speak  of  Brooke  Street,  Holbom, 
and  its  neighbourhood. 

In  the  churchyard  of  St.  Andrew's,  Holbom,  lie 
the  remains  of  another  poet,  Henry  Neele,  author, 
among  other  works,  of  the  "  Romance  of  English 
History."  He  was  born  in  the  Strand,  on  the  29th 
of  January,  1798,  and  early  in  life  was  apprenticed 
to  a  solicitor.  During  his  clerkship— namely,  in 
1817— he  made  his  first  appearance  as  an  author 
before  the  public,  and  from  that  time  continued 
to  publish  occasionally,  until  1828,  on  the  8th  of 
February  of  which  year,  in  a  fit  of  insanity,  in- 
cipient, it  is  true,  but  encouraged  by  excessive 
reading,  he  unhappily  destroyed  himself.  Against 
the  west  wall  of  the  churchyard  is  a  gravestone 
commemorative  of  his  father,  and  bearing  an 
epitaph  written  by  Henry  Neele.  On  the  same 
stone,  together  with  the  names  of  several  others  of 
the  family,  is  the  record  of  the  poet's  own  pre- 


mature death.     The  epitaph  written  by  him  is  as 
follows : — 

"  Good  night,  good  night,  sweet  spirit !    Thou  hast  cast 
Thy  bonds  of  clay  away  from  thee  at  last ; 
Broke  the  vile  earthly  fetters,  which  alone 
Held  thoe  at  distance  from  thy  Maker's  throne. 
But,  oh !  those  fetters  to  th'  immortal  mind 
Were  links  of  love  to  those  thou'st  left  behind. 
For  thee  we  mourn  not ;  as  the  apostle  prest 
His  dungeon  pillow,  till  the  angel  guest 
Drew  nigh  ;  and  when  the  light  that  round  him  shone 
Beamed  on  the  pris'ner,  his  bands  were  gone  : 
So  wert  thou  captive  to  disease  and  pain, 
Till  death,  the  brightest  of  th'  angelic  train, 
Poured  heaven's  own  radiance,  by  divine  decree, 
Around  thy  suffering  soul,  and  it  was  free." 

St.  Andrew's  has  been  called  "the  poet's  church," 
from  the  sons  of  song  who  have  in  some  way  or 
other  been  connected  with  it.  We  have  named 
three  already,  and  have  here  to  speak  of  a  fourth. 
John  Webster,  the  dramatist,  is  said  to  have  been 
parish  clerk  in  St.  Andrew's,  but  there  is,  unfortu- 
nately, no  confirmation  of  this  in  the  register.  The 
clerkship,  however,  being  in  the  gift  of  the  rector, 
the  vestry  register  could  afford  no  direct  evidence 
on  the  subject.  Webster  has,  to  us,  an  obscure 
personal  history,  but  by  those  who  love  an  old  play 
he  will  ever  be  remembered  as  the  author  of  the 
Whiie  Devil  and  the  Duchess  of  Malfy — two  per- 
formances, says  Hazlitt,  which  upon  the  whole,  per- 
haps, come  the  nearest  to  Shakespeare  of  anything 
we  have  on  record.  Charles  Lamb  had  a  great 
admiration  of  our  parish  clerk's  White  Devil.  "  I 
never  saw  anything,"  he  writes,  "like  the  funeral 
dirge  in  this  play  for  the  death  of  Marcello,  except 
the  ditty  which  reminds  Ferdinand  of  his  drowned 
father  in  the  tempest.  As  that  is  of  the  water, 
watery,  so  this  is  of  the  earth,  earthy.  Both  have 
that  intensity  of  feeling  which  seems  to  resolve 
itself  into  the  element  which  it  contemplates."  Let 
us,  while  we  have  the  chance,  repeat,  in  honour  to 
the  memory  of  Webster,  the  exquisite  lines  alluded 
to  by  Lamb  : — 

"  Call  for  the  robin  redbreast,  and  the  wren. 

Since  o'er  shady  groves  they  hover. 

And  with  leaves  and  fiowers  do  cover 

The  friendless  bodies  of  unburied  men. 

Call  unto  his  funeral  dole 

The  ant,  the  fieldmouse,  and  the  mole, 
t    To  rear  him  hillocks  that  shall  keep  him  warm, 

And  (when  gay  tombs  are  robbed)  sustain  no  harm  ; 

But  keep  the  wolf  far  thence,  that's  foe  to  men,  ' 

For  with  his  nails  he'll  dig  them  up  again." 
The  Duchess  of  Malfy,  Webster's  second  great 
play,  "  is  not,"  remarks  the  critical  Hazlitt,  "  in  my 
judgment,  quite  so  spirited  or  effectual  a  perform- 
ance as  the  White  Devil.  But  it  is  distinguished  by 
the  same  kind  of  beauties,  clad  in  the  same  terrors. 


Sio 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[St.  Andrew's,  Holboni. 


I  do  not  know  but  the  occasional  gleams  of  passion 
are  even  profounder  and  more  Shakesperian  ;  but 
the  story  is  more  laboured,  and  the  horror  is 
accumulated  to  an  overwhelming  and  insupportable 
height." 

In  the  church  register  there  is  also  entered  the 
burial  of  Nathaniel  Tomkins,  executed  for  his 
share  in  Waller's  plot.  Tomkins  was  Waller's 
brother-in-law.     The  plot  for  which  he  suffered  is 


Tomkins  and  Challoner  were  hanged,  the  one  in 
Holborn,  and  the  other  in  Cornhill,  both  within  sight 
of  their  own  dwelling-houses  ;  Blinkhom,  Hassell, 
White,  and  Waller  were,  by  the  mercy  of  Parlia- 
ment and  the  Lord-General  Essex,  reprieved,  and 
eventually  saved.  Waller,  the  chief  of  them,  was 
detained  in  the  Tower,  but,  about  a  year  after, 
upon  payment  of  ;^io,ooo,  was  pardoned  'and 
released  to  go  travel  abroad.' " 


ST.  ANDREW'S   CHURCH,  FROM   SNOW   HILL,  IN    iSjO. 


one  of  the  noted  conspiracies  of  history.  Wallerj 
the  poet,  in  conjunction  with  Tomkins,  Challoner, 
Blinkhorne,  and  a  few  others,  had  undertaken  to 
seize  the  persons  of  the  leading  members  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  to  deliver  up  the  City  of 
London  to  Charles,  who  had  sent  in  a  commission 
of  array  very  secretly,  by  means  of  the  Lady 
Aubigny,  whose  husband  had  fallen  at  Edgehill. 
"  A  sel-vant  of  Tomkins  overheard  the  conversation 
of  the  conspirators,  and  revealed  what  he  knew  to 
Pym,  who  presently  seized  their  chief  and  brought 
him  to  trial,  where  he  confessed  everything  with 
amazing  alacrity,  and  crawled  in  the  dust,  in  the 
hope  of  saving  his  life.  The  jury  of  Guildhall 
found  a  verdict  of  guilty  against  all  the  "prisoners. 


Another  burial  we  must  notice  is  that,  in  1802, 
of  Joseph  Strutt,  the  author  of  "Sports  and  Pas- 
times of  the  People  of  England,"  and  several  other 
works  of  an  antiquarian  character.  StrutJ:  was  born 
at  Springfield,  in  Essex,  on  tlie  27  th  of  October, 
1749,  and  was  educated  as  an  artist.  In  1770  he 
became  a  student  at  the  Royal  Academy,  and  was 
successful  in  winning  both  the  gold  and  silver 
medals  there.  He  served  an  apprenticeship  to  the 
unfortunate  Ryland,  and  when  his  term  expired, 
began  to  unite  literary  labours  of  an  antiquarian 
character  with  those  of  his  artistic  profession.  In 
1773  he  published  his  first  book,  "The  Regal  and 
Ecclesiastical  Antiquities  of  England,"  and  sub- 
sequently a  "  Complete  View  of  the  Manners  and 


St.  Andrew's,  Holbom.] 


BURIED   AT   ST. 'ANDREW'S. 


S" 


O^jmiddSweUwuhlHdi,  iftlwscares'a 
BiiJ:h£  bears  liunbkTwu^hU  withat  hisBrmsi 


WhJiout  Concern,  k from  his  (oaclc  alights, 
To  JtandaTnjai  which  itsHearers frights. 


1h£,  Cidltye  with  alacrity  recciv'it 
IHrJhn.  rOura'dforivhcm  accds'dS/Kartiix' 


J.'^aphs BishopJorliisFlxks  Initnictum. 
JJhmsHimJnstitutian  caidJmiucticrt 


From.  hetLce  tlie  Chimh's  Restoratixn  rcse; 
^/id  madcDisawaycfherSecretFocs. 


Th^Dcrlitj.J'heriffdotfL  cfkirnrajusst,, 
Tficxtikis  CtfiizelJiJcourJc  rnaij  &  imprasC. 


ThcD^r  andki/iFricruli  in  Cbruulzatisa, 
Bontto  reply'  tuiiomrtwru .  jiccusatian 


Jnto  theCJuircli  tfujiimffwlrcdaces. 
Tfi£.D—  r  rvlu)  lamctLl^  its  Foes  ^Iruscj. 


.yit^^aiimm  tkz  Coartii)uslbrpotmiori. 
t  falums  /urn  m/wreatnu  t/i^Jalutation. 


"SACHEVERELL"   CARDS., 
<iSe!ected  fro?n  a  Pack  illmtrattng  the  Reign  ef  Queen  A«ne.) 


512 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[St.  Andrew's,  Holbom. 


Customs,  Arms,  Habits,  &c.,  of  the  Inhabitants  of 
England;"  a  "Chronicle  of  England"  (a  "heavy- 
book,"  Chalmers  says) ;  a  "  Dictionary  of  En- 
gravers;" "The  Sports  and  Pastimes  of  the  People 
of  England;"  "Queen  Hoo  Hall,  a  Romance," 
and  several  other  works.  He  died  on  the  i6th  of 
October,  1802,  in  Charles  Street,  Hatton  Garden. 
His  biographer  sums  up  his  character  in  these 
words  : — "  The  calamities  incident  to  man  were 
indeed  his  portion  on  this  earth,  and  these  greatly- 
augmented  by  unkindnesses  where  he  least  de- 
served to  have  met  with  them.  He  was  charitable 
without  ostentation;  a  sincere  friend,  -without  in- 
tentional guile ;  a  dutiful  son ;  a  faithful  and  affec- 
tionate husband;  a  good  father;  a  worthy  man; 
and,  above  all,  it  is  humbly  hoped,  a  sincere 
Christian.  His  natural  talents  were  great,  but 
little  cultivated  by  early  education.  The  numerous 
works  which  he  gave  to  the  world  as  an  author 
and  as  an  artist,  prove  that  he  employed  his  time 
to  the  best  advantage." 

That  celebrated  preacher,  William  Whiston,  once 
made  himself  rather  troublesome  in  connection 
with  this  church.  He  constantly  attended  and 
partook  of  the  communion.  On  his  principles 
becoming  known  he  was  warned  by  Sacheverell  to 
forbear  partaking  of  the  sacrament.  "Wicked  Will" 
Whiston,  however,  persisted,  and  at  last  the  rector 
fairly  turned  him  out.  Whiston  aired  his  grievances 
in  print,  and  then  shifted  his  camp  into  another 
parish.  Pennant  says  that  on  the  occasion  of  his 
ejection  from  the  church,  he  had  taken  it  into  his 
head  to  disturb  Dr.  Sacheverell  while  he  was  in  the 
pulpit,  giving  utterance  to  some  doctrine  contrary 
to  the  opinion  of  that  heterodox  divine.  His 
lawyer,  who  had  no  liking  for  Dr.  Sacheverell,  tried 
to  induce  Whiston  to  prosecute  the  doctor  for  the 
insult,  and  offered  to  take  the  business  in  hand 
without  fees;  but  this  Whiston  refused,  replying, 
"  If  I  should  give  my  consent,  I  should  show  my- 
self to  be  as  foolish  and  passionate  as  Sacheverell 
himself." 

Whiston  was  born  in  1667,  and  died  in  1752. 
During  his  life  he  had  many  ups  and  downs,  and 
seems  to  have  been  long  tossed  to  arid  fro  on 
a  sea  of  religious  doubt  and  metaphysical  uncer- 
tainty. Towards  the  close  of  his  career  he  distin- 
guished himself  by  an  abortive  attempt  to  discover 
the  longitude,  and  by  his  opinions  on  the  Millen- 
nium and  the  restoration  of  the  Jews.  He  was  a 
favourite  with  Queen  Caroline,  who  presented  him 
with  ^$0  every  year  from  the  rime  she  became 
queen,  which  pension  was  continued  for  some  time 
after  her  death.  We  get  a  glimpse  of  the  queen 
and  the  eccentric  divine  in  the  following*  anecdote 


told  by  Whiston's  son.  The  queen,  who  liked 
Whiston's  free  conversation,  once  asked  him  what 
people  in  general  said  of  her.  He  rephed  that 
they  justly  esteemed  her  as  a  lady  of  great  abilities', 
a  patron  of  learned  men,  and  a  kind  friend  to  the 
poor.  "  But,"  says  she,  "  no  one  is  without  faults 
pray  what  are  mine?"  Mr.  Whiston  begged  to  be 
excused  speaking  on  that  subject,  but  she  insisting, 
he  said  her  majesty  did  not  behave  with  proper 
reverence  at  church.  She  replied,  the  king  would 
persist  in  talking  with  her.  He  said,  a  greater  than 
kings  was  there  only  to  be  regarded.  She  acknow- 
ledged the  truth  of  this,  and  confessed  her  fault. 
"Pray,"  said  she,  "tell  me  what  is  my  next?" 
He  answered,  "  When  your  majesty  has  amended 
of  that  fault  I  will  tell  you  of  your  next ; "  and  so 
it  ended. 

But  we  must  not  be  carried  away,  by  recollection 
of  such  tales,  to  forget  St.  Andrew's.  Hacket, 
who  afterwards  became  a  bishop,  was  rector  liere 
for  several  years.  This  divine  was  bom  near 
Exeter  House  in  the  Strand,  oh  the  ist  of  Sep- 
tember, 1592,  and  was  educated  at  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge.  He  took  orders  in  the  year  16 18, 
and  we  find  him  passing  through  various  stages  of 
advancement  till  in  1623  he  landed  in  the  post  of 
chaplain  to  James  I.,  with  whom  he  became  a 
favourite  preacher.  In  1624,  upon  the  recommen- 
dation of  the  Lord  Keeper,  Dr.  Williams,  he  was 
made  rector  of  St.  Andrew's,  Holbom.  His  patron 
also  procured  him,  in  the  course  of  the  same  year, 
the  rectory  of  Cheam,  in  Surrey,  teUing  him  that 
he  intended  Holborn  for  wealth  and  Cheam  for 
health. 

During  the  rime  of  the  Civil  War  he  was  in 
danger,  through  his  allegiance  to  the  unpopular 
party,  of  getting  into  trouble.  "  One  Sunday,"  says 
Cunningham,  "  whilst  he  was  reading  the  Common 
Prayer  in  St.  Andrew's,  a  soldier  of  the  Eari  of 
Essex  came,  clapped  a  pistol  to  his  breast,  and 
commanded  him  to  read  no  farther.  Not  at  all 
terrified,  Hacket  said  he  would  do  what  became 
a  divine,  and  he  might  do  what  became-  a  soldier. 
He  was  permitted  to  proceed." 

At  the  Restoration  he  was  made  Bishop  of 
Lichfield  and  Coventry,  and  set  a  noble  example 
by  exhibiting  a  degree  of  munificence  worthy  of 
his  station.  He  expended  ;^2o,ooo  in  repairing 
his  cathedral,  and  was,  besides,  a  liberal  benefactor 
to  the  college  of  which  he  had  been  a  member. 
He  was  the  author  of  the  Life  of  Archbishop 
Williams,  a  quaint  and  learned  work,  half  made  up 
of  quotations,  like  Burton's  "  Anatomy  of  Melan- 
choly." 

As  for  his  character,  he  is  described  as  having 


St,  Andrew's,  Holbom.] 


RECTORS  OF  ST.  ANDREW'S. 


S13 


been  exemplary  in  behaviour,  cheerful  in  conversa- 
tion, hospitable,  humble  and  affable,  though  subject 
to  great  eruptions  of  anger,  but  at  the  same  time 
very  placable  and  ready  to  be  appeased,  and  alto- 
gether of  too  generous  a  nature  to  be  really 
vindictive. 

The  Dissenters  once  got  an  agreeable  surprise 
whilst  Hacket  was  rector  of  St.  Andrew's.  Soon 
after  the  Restoration,  having  received  notice  of  the 
interment  of  a  Dissenter  belonging  to  his  parish,  he 
got  the  burial  service  by  heart.  He  was  a  fine 
elocutionist,  and  besides  felt  deeply  the  propriety 
and  excellence  of  what  he  had  to  deliver;  so 
he  went  through  the  service  with  such  emphasis 
and  grace  as  touched  the  hearts  of  all  who  were 
present,  and  particularly  of  the  friends  of  the 
deceased,  who  unanimously  gave  it  as  their  opinion 
that  they  had  never  heard  a  finer  discourse.  Their 
astonishment  may  be  conceived  when  they  learned 
'  that  it  was  taken  word  for  word  from  the  Liturgy, 
a  book  which,  though  they  had  never  read  it,  they 
affected  to  hold  in  contempt  and  detestation. 
Other  clergymeh,  it  is  said,  have  been  known  to 
practise  the  same  pious  fraud  as  Mr.  Hacket,  and 
with  a  like  success. 

During  Mr.  Hackef  s  time  St.  Andrew's  was  old 
and  decayed.  He  took  in  hand  to  rebuild  it,  and 
for  that  purpose  got  together  a  great  sum  of  money, 
but  on  the  breaking  out  of  the'  Civil  War  the  funds 
were  seized  by  Parliament,  as  well  as  those  which 
had  been  gathered  for  the  repair  of  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral,  so  that  he  was  unable  to  carry  out  his 
praiseworthy  intentions. 

Another  eminent  rector  of  St.  Andrew's  was 
Stillingfleet,  who  was  afterwards  raised  to  the  see 
of  Worcester.  Stillingfleet  was  truly  a  controversial 
divine,  his  life  being  one  long  warfare  with  Ro- 
manists, Nonconformists,  Socinians,  and  the  philo- 
sopher, John  Locke.  Among  his  Nonconformist 
opponents  were  Owen,  Baxter,  and  Howe.  He 
was  born  in  1635,  and  died  in  1699.  He  was  pre- 
sented to  the  living  of  St.  Andrew's,  Holborn,  in 
1665,  by  Thomas,  Earl  of  Southampton.  His 
biographer  describes  his  person  as  tall,  graceful, 
and  well-proportioned ;  his  countenance  as  comely, 
fresh,  and  awful.  "His  apprehension  was  quick 
and  sagacious ;  his  judgment  exact  and  profound ; 
and  his  memory  very  tenacious;  so  that  con- 
sidering how  intensely  he  studied,  and  how  he  read 
everything,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  him  what  he  really 
was,  one  of  the  most  universal  scholars  that  ever 
lived." 

Stillingfleet  was  at  one  time  chaplain  to  King 
Charles  II.,  and  in  that  capacity  exhibited  con- 
siderable ability  as  a  courtier.     On  one  occasion  it 


is  told  that  his  majesty  asked  him  "how  it  came 
about  that  he  always  read  his  sermons  before 
him,  when  he  was  informed  he  invariably  preached 
without  book  elsewhere  ?"  He  told  the  king  that 
"  the  awe  of  so  noble  an  audience,  where  he  saw 
nothing  that  was  not  greatly  superior  to  him,  but 
chiefly  the  seeing  before  him  so  great  and  wise  a 
prince,  made  him  afraid  to  trust  himself."  With 
this  answer,  which  was  not  very  becoming  in  a 
divine,  the  king  was  well  content.  "  But  pray," 
said  Stillingfleet,  "will  your  majesty  give  me  leave 
to  ask  you  a  question,  too?  Why  do  you  read 
your  speeches,  when  you  have  none  of  the  same 
reasons?"  "Why;  truly,  doctor,"  said  the  king, 
"  your  question  is  a  very  pertinent  one,  and  so  will 
be  my  answer.  I  have  asked  them  so  often,  and 
for  so  much  money,  that  I  am  ashamed  to  look 
them  in  the  face." 

Amongst  the  rectors  of  St.  Andrew's  was  the 
Rev.  Charles  Barton,  who  died  in  1805,  and  of 
whom  an  anecdote  worth  repeating  is  given  by 
the  historian  of  the  churches  of  London.  He 
had  acted  diligently  as  curate  of  the  church  for 
several  years,  when  the  previous  rector  died,  and 
presuming  on  length  of  service,  he  waited  on  the 
Duchess-Dowager  of  Buccleugh  to  ask  for  the 
living.  "  You  have  come  soon,  and  yet  too  late,'' 
said  her  Grace;  "for  having  made  up  my  mind 
a  dozen  years  ago  as  to  whom  I  would  give  St. 
Andrew's,  I  have  sent  my  servant  with  the  pre- 
sentation." Mr.  Barton  bowed  in  silence,  and 
returned  home,  where  he  found  his  wife  and  family 
rejoicing  over  the  duchess's  letter.  "Ah,"  said 
he,  "her  Grace  loves  a  joke,''  and  of  course  went 
back  immediately  to  thank  her.  When  he  died 
the  duchess  continued  her  kindness  to  the  family, 
and  presented  a  living  to  his  eldest  son,  who  was 
also  in  the  Church.  Mr.  Charles  Barton  was  buried 
in  St.  Andrew's,  and  was  commemorated  by  a  tablet 
in  the  north  gallery. 

Under  an  Act  of  Parliament  passed  in  the  reign 
of  Queen  Anne,  and  in  consequence  of  the  pro- 
ceedings that  took  place  in  connection  with  it,  the 
parish  of  St.  George  the  Martyr,  Queen  Square, 
which  before  had  formed  part  of  St.  Andrew's, 
Holbom,  was  erected  into  a  distinct  parish  for 
spiritual  purposes,  although  still  united  with  St. 
Andrew's  as  regards  the  poor,  and  other  secular 
matters. 

Newcourt  informs  us  that  a  public  grammar-school 
was  among  the  adjuncts  of  the  church.  It  was  one 
of  those  erected  by  Act  of  Parliament  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  VI.,  and,  according  to  Maitland,  stood  on 
the  right  side  of  the  church,  and  was  taken  down 
in  1737. 


514 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[Ely  Placfc 


CHAPTER      LVIII. 
ELY   PLACE. 

Ely  Place:  its  Builders  and  Bishops— Its  Demolition— Seventy  Years  ago— " Time-honoured "  Lancaster's  Death— A  King  admonished— The 
Earl  of  Sussex  in  Ely  Place— The  Hatching  of  a  Conspiracy— Ely  Place  Garden— The  Duke  of  Gloucester's  Dessert  of  Strawberries- 
Queen  Elizabeth's  Handsome  Lord  Chancellor- A  Flowery  Lease— A  Bishop  Extinguished— A  Broken  Heart— Love-making  in  Ely  Place— 
"  Strange  Lady"  Hatton  shows  her  Temper— An  Hospital  and  a  Prison— Festivities  in  Ely  Place — The  Lord  Mayor  offended —Henry  VIL 
and  his  Queen — A  Five  Days'  Entertainment — The  Last  Mystery  in  England — A  Gorgeous  Anti-masque — Two  Bailiffs  baiHed,  and  a 
Bishop  taken  in— St.  Etheldreda's  Chapel— Its  Interior— The  Marriage  of  Evelyn's  Daughter— A  Loyal  Clerk. 


A  LITTLE  north  of  St.  Andrew's,  Holbom,  and 
running  parallel  to  Hatton  Garden,  stand  two  rows 
of  houses  known  as  Ely  Place.  To  the  public  it 
is  one  of  those  unsatisfactory  streets  which  lead 
nowhere;  to  the  inhabitants  it  is  quiet  and 
pleasant;  to  the  student  of  Old  London  it  is 
possessed  of  all  the  charms  which  can  be  given 
by  five  centuries  of  change  and  the  long  residence 
of  the  great  and  noble.  The  present  Ely  Place, 
and  a  knot  of  neighbouring  tenements,  streets,  and 
alleys,  occupy  the  site  of  the  town  house,  or 
"hostell,"  of  the  Bishops  of  Ely.  And  to  the 
history  of  the  old  mansion,  and  its  sometimes  gay 
and  sometimes  sober  inmates,  we  shall  devote  the 
following  chapter. 

The  earliest  notice  of  Ely  Place  belongs  to  the 
close  of  the  thirteenth  century.  John  de  Kirkeby, 
Bishop  of  Ely,  died  in  the  year  1290,  and  left  to 
his  successors  in  the  see  a  messuage  and  nine 
cottages  in  Holborn.  His  intention  was  to  found 
a  London  residence  for  the  Bishops  of  Ely,  suit- 
able to  their  rank.  Previous  to  this  time  they 
had  their  London  residen&e  in  the  Temple,  but 
things  do  not  seem  to  have  gone  smoothly  with 
them  there.  In  1250  Bishop  Balsham  was  denied 
entrance  there  by  the  master,  when  Hugh  Bigod 
was  Justiciary  of  England.  He  insisted,  however, 
on  the  rights  which  his  predecessors  had  enjoyed, 
from  the  Conquest,  of  using  the  hall,  chapel,  cham- 
bers, kitchen,  pantry,  buttery,  and  wine-cellar,  with 
free  ingress  and  egress,  by  land  and  water,  when- 
ever he  came  to  London,  and  he  laid  his  damages 
at  ;^2oo.  The  master  not  being  able  to  over- 
throw the  claim,  the  bishop  won  the  case.  But 
this  was  not  an  agreeable  way  of  obtaining  town 
lodgings,  so  no  wonder  John  de  Kirkeby  was 
induced  to  bequeath  the  Holborn  property  for 
the  benefit  of  his  successors.  T'he  next  bishop, 
William  de  Luda,  probably  built  the  chapel  of  St. 
Etheldreda,  and  we  find  him  adding  a  further  grant 
to  the  bequest  of  John  de  Kirkeby,  accompanied 
by  the  condition  that  "his  next  successor  should 
pay  one  thousand  marks  for  the  finding  of  three 
chaplains"  in  the  chapel  there.  The  next  bene- 
factor to  the  episcopal  residence  was  John  de 
Hotham,  another  bishop,  who  added  a  vineyard, 


kitchen-garden,  and  orchard,  and,  altogether,  seems 
to  have  given  the  finishing  touch  to  the  premises ; 
so  that  Camden  speaks  of  Ely  Place  as  "well 
beseeming  bishops  to  live  in ;  for  which  they  are 
beholden  to  John  de  Hotham,  Bishop  of  Ely  under 
King  Edward  III."  Other  and  subsequent  pre- 
lates did  their  duty  by  building,  altering,  and  re- 
pairing, and  conspicuous  amongst  these  was  the 
well-known  Arundel,  afterwards  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  who  erected  a  large  and  handsome 
"gate-house  or  front,"  towards  Holbom,  in  the 
stone-work  of  which  his  arms  remained  in  Stow's 
time.  Thus  Ely  Place,  by  the  liberality  of  many 
successive  prelates,  came  to  be  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  of  metropolitan  mansions.  . 

In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  Sir  Christopher  Hatton 
was  the  occupant  of  Ely  Place ;  and  we  shall  tell  in 
a  few  words  the  interesting  story  of  his  coming  in, 
and  the  bishop's  going  out  Meanwhile — pursuing 
our  rapid  notice  of  the  history  of  the  house — let  us 
only  say  that  Sir  Christopher  died,  in  Ely  Place,  in 
1591,  and  was  succeeded  in  his  estates  by  his 
nephew,  Newport,  who  took  the  name  of  Hatton. 
When  he  died,  his  widow,  "the  Lady  Hatton," 
who  married  Sir  Edward  Coke,  the  famous  lawyer, 
held  the  property.  The  Bishops  of  Ely,  upon  her 
death,  came  in  again,  though  in  what  appears  a 
confused  and  unsatisfactory  sort  of  way ;  and  the 
subsequent  history  has  been  thus  summarised  by 
Mr.  Peter  Cunningham : — "  Laney,  Bishop  of  Ely, 
died  here  in  1674-5,  ^^'^  ^^  Bishop  Patrick's  time 
(i69i-i707)a  piece  of  ground  wasfmade  over  to 
the  see  for  the  erection  of  a  new  chapel,  and  the 
Hatton  property  saddled  with  a  rent-charge  of 
;^ioo  per  annum,  payable  to  the  see.  In  this 
way  matters  stood  till  the  death,  in  1762,  of  the 
last  Lord  Hatton,  wKen  the  Hatton  property  in 
Holbom  reverted  to  the  Crown.  An  amicable 
arrangement  was  now  effected,  the  see,  in  1772, 
transferring  to  the  Crown  all  its  right  to  Ely  Place, 
on  an  act  (12  Geo.  III.,  c.  43)  for  building  and 
making  over  to  the  Bishops  of  Ely  a  spacious 
house  in  Dover  Street,  Piccadilly,  still  in  posses- 
sion of  the  see,  with  an  annuity  of  ;^2oo  payable 
for  ever.'' 

In  Ralph  Agas's  map  of  London,  in  the  reign  qf 


fty  Place.] 


ELY  PLACE. 


sn 


tlizabeth,  we  see  the  vineyard,  meadow,  kitchen- 
garden,  and  orchard  of  Ely  Place,  extending  north- 
ward from  Holborn  to  the  present  Hatton  Wall  and 
Vine  Street,  and  east  and  west  from  Saffron  Hill  to 
nearly  the  present  Leather  Lane.  Except  a  cluster 
of  houses— Ely  Rents — standing  on  Holborn  Hill, 
the  surrounding  ground  was  about  that  time  entirely 
open  and  unbuilt  upon.  In  the  names  of  Saffron 
Hill,  Field  Lane,  Turnmill  and  Vine  Streets,  we  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  rural  past.  In  the  Sutherland  View 
(1543)  the  gate-house,  banqueting-hall,  chapel,  &c., 
of  this  house  are  shown. 

During  the  imprisonment  of  Bishop  Wren  by  the 
Long  Parliament,  most  of  the  palatial  buildings 
were  taken  down,  and  upon  the  garden  were  built 
Hatton  Garden,  Great  and  Little  Kirby  Streets, 
Charles  Street,  Cross  Street,  and  Hatton  Wall. 
The  present  Ely  Place  was  not  built  till  about 
1773.  We  find  a  fragment  of  the  old  episcopal 
residence  preserved  in,  and  giving  its  name  to. 
Mitre  Court,  which  leads  from  Ely  Place  to  Hatton 
Garden.  Here,  worked  into  the  wall  of  a  tavern 
known  as  "  The  Mitre,"  is  a  bishop's  mitre,  sculp- 
tured in  stone,  "  which  probably,"  Mr.  Timbs  con- 
jectures, "once  adorned  Ely  Palace,  or  the  precinct 
gateway. 

A  writer  in  Knight's  "London"  has  beeii  at  the 
pains  to  put  together,  from  existing  material,  a 
description  of  Ely  Place  as  it  existed  immediately 
before  the  bishop's  residence  was  levelled  to  the 
ground.  "Let  us  imagine  ourselves,"  he  says, 
"  entering  the  precincts  ,  from  Holborn.  The 
original  gate-house,  where  the  bishop's  armed  re- 
tainers were  wont  to  keep  watch  and  ward  in  the 
old  style,  is  now  gone,  and  we  enter  from  Holborn 
at  once  upon  a  small  paved  court,  having  on  the 
right  various  offices,  supported  by  a  colonnade, 
and  on  the  left  a  wall,  dividing  the  court  from  the 
garden. 

"  Passing  from  the  court,  we  reach  the  entrance 
to  the  great  hall,  which  extends  along  in  front,  and 
to  our  left.  This  fine  edifice,  measuring  about  30 
feet  in  height,  32  in  breadth,  and  72  in  length,  was 
originally  built  with  stone,  and  the  roof  covered 
with  lead.  The  interior,  lighted  by  six  fine  Gothic 
windows,  was  very  interesting.  It  had  its  orna- 
mental timber  roof,  its  tiled  and  probably  originally 
chequered  floor,  its  oaken  screen  at  one  end,  and 
its  dais  at  the  other ;  and  when  filled  with  some  of 
the  brilliant  and  picturesque-looking  crowds  that 
have  met  under  its  roof,  must  have  presented  a 
magnificent  spectacle; 

"  Beyonid  the  hall,  and  touching  it  at  the  north- 
west comer,  were  the  cloisters,  enclosing  a  quad- 
rangle nearly  square,  of  great  size,  and  havmg  in 


the  midst  a'  small  garden — made,  perhaps,  after  the 
grant  of  the  principal  garden  to  Hatton.  Over  the 
cloisters  were  long,  antique-looking  galleries,  with 
the  doors  and  windows  of  various  apartments  ap- 
pearing at  the  back ;  in  the  latter,  traces  of  painted 
glass — the  remnants  of  former  splendour — were 
still  visible.  Lastly,  at  the  north-west  corner  of  the 
cloisters,  in  a  field  planted  with  trees  and  sur- 
rounded with  a  wall,  stood  the  chapel — now  all 
that  remains  of  what  we  have  described,  and  of  the 
still  more  numerous  buildings  that  at  one  time  con- 
stituted the  palace  of  the  Bishops  of  Ely." 

Having  now  got  an  idea  of  the  appearance  of 
Ely  Place,  and  a  notion  of,  at  least,  the  skeleton  of 
its  history,  we  may  proceed  to  add  to  our  informa- 
tion, and  to  tell  of  the  characters  who  have  lived 
in  it,  and  the  incidents  of  which  it  has  been  the 
scene. 

A  famous  character  in  Enghsh  history — "  Old 
John  of  Gaunt,  time-honoured  Lancaster  " — resided 
here  at  the  close  of  his  eventful  life.  He  died  here 
in  1399.  How  this  came  to  be  his  residence  is 
unknown:  it  is  conjectured  by  Cunningham,  and 
with  some  show  of  probability,  that  the  bishops 
occasionally  let  the  house — or  rather,  perhaps,  the 
greater  part  of  it — to  distinguished  noblemen. 
Certainly  John  of  Gaunt  stood  at  this  time  in 
need  of  a  town-house,  for  his  palace  of  the  Savoy 
had  been  burned  to  the  ground  by  the  insurgents 
during  Wat  Tyler's  rebellion.  Froissart  thus  speaks 
of  his  death  : — "  So  it  fell  that,  about  the  feast  of 
Christmas,  Dnke  John  of  Lancaster — who  lived  in 
great  displeasure,  what  because  the  king  had 
banished  his  son  out  of  the  realm  for  so  little  cause, 
and  also  because  of  the  evil  governing  of  the  realm 
by  his  nephew.  King  Richard — (for  he  saw  well,  if 
he  long  persevered,  and  were  suffered  to  continue, 
the  realm  was  likely  to  be  utterly  lost) — with  these 
imaginations  and  others,  the  duke  fell  sick,-whereon 
he  died ;  whose  death  was  greatly  sorrowed  by  all 
his  friends  and  lovers." 

Shakespeare,  in  his  -play  of  Richard  II.,  Act  ii., 
sc.  I,  represents  the  dying  nobleman  in  Ely  House 
admonishing  with  his  last  breath  his  dissipated 
nephew,  the  king  : — 

"  A  thousand  flatterers  sit  within  thy  crown, 
Whose  compass  is  no  bigger  than  thy  head  5 
And  yet,  incaged  in  so  small  a  verge, 
The  waste  is  no  whit  lesser  than  thy  land. 
Oh,  had  thy  grandsire,  with  a  prophet's  eye, 
Seen  how  his  son's  son  should  destroy  his  sons, 
From  forth  thy  reach  he  would  have  laid  thy  shame, 
Deposing  thee  before  thou  wert  possessed, 
Which  art  possessed  now  to  depose  thyself. 
Why,  cousin,  wert  thou  regent  of  the  world 
It  were  a  shame  to  let  this  land  by°  lease  : 
But,  for  thy  world,  enjoying  but  this  land, 


Si6 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Ely  Place, 


Is  it  not  more  than  shame  to  shame  it  so  ? 
Landlord  of  England  art  thou,  and  not  king." 

Another  nobleman  who  at  one  time  resided  in 
Ely  Place  was  Henry  Radclyff,  Earl  of  Sussex. 
We  find  him  writing  to  his  countess  "  from  Ely 
Place,  in  Holborn,"  to  tell  her  of  the  death  of 
Henry  VIH.  And  in  Ely  Place — then  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Earl  of  Warwick  (afterwards  Duke  of 
Northumberland — the    council  met  and   planned 


of  the  coronation  of  the  young  King  Edward  V. 
The  Duke  of  Gloucester,  afterwards  Richard  HI., 
enters,  and  after  a  few  words  exchanged  with  Buck- 
ingham, turns — possibly  to  conceal  his  deep  and 
bloody  design — to  the  bishop : — 

"  My  lord  of  Ely,  when  I  was  last  in  Holborn, 
I  saw  good  strawberries  in  your  garden  there  ; 
I  do  beseech  you,  send  for  some  of  them  ! 

Ely.  Marry,  I  will,  my  lord,  with  all  my  heart." 


WILLIAM   WHISTON. 


the  remarkable  conspiracy  which  resulted  in  the 
execution  of  the  Protector  Somerset. 

The  pleasant  gardens  which  suiTounded  Ely 
House  rejoiced  in  the  growth  of  fine  strawberries, 
and  it  is  in  connection  with  this  fruit  that  the  name 
of  Ely  Place  has  been  enshrined  in  the  memory  of 
all  readers  of  Shakespeare.  No  one  needs  to  have 
recalled  the  scene  in  the  Tower  which  ended  in 
the  execution  of  Hastings.  Buckingham,  Hastings, 
the  Bishop  of  Ely,  and  others,  are  talking  together 


He  goes  out,  and   shortly  returning,  finds  Glou- 
cester gone. 

' '  Ely.  Where  is  my  lord  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  ?    I  have 

sent  for  those  strawberries. 
Hastings.  His    grace    looks   cheerful   and    smooth   this 
morning. 
There's  some  conceit  or  other  likes  him  well, 
When  that  he  bids  good  morrow  with  such  spirit." 

Ill-judging  Hastings  !     Little  did  he  guess  that 
a   few    minutes  after    he   would   hear   the  Lord 


Ely  Place.] 


A   HANDSOME  LORD   CHANCELLOR. 


S17 


Protector  thundering  out,  with  reference  to  himself, 
^'Thou'rt  a  traitor!  Off  with  his  head '"  After 
the  execution  the  cold-blooded  Gloucester  likely 
enough  sat  down  with  relish  to  a  dessert  of  the 
bishop's  strawberries. 

How  closely  in  this  scene  Shakespeare  followed 
the  historical  truth  we  may  see  in  this  passage 
from  HoUnshed  : — "On  the  Friday  (being  the  13th 
of  June,  1483)  many  lords  were  assembled  in 
the  Tower,  and  there  sat  in  council,  devising  the 
honourable   solemnity   of   the   king's    (the   young 


better  thing  as  ready  to  your  pleasure  as  that.' 
And  therewithal,  in  all  haste,  he  sent  his  servant 
for  a  mess  of  strawberries." 

In  the  time  of  Richard  III.,  it  may  be  added, . 
strawbenies  were  an  article  of  ordinary  consump- 
tion in  London.     In  Lydgate's  poem  of  "  London 
Lyckpeny"  we  learn  as  much  : — 

"  Then  unto  London  I  did  me  hie, 

Of  all  the  land  it  beareth  the  prize  ; 
'  Good  peascod ! '  one  began  to  cry — 

'  Strattiberry  ripe  I  and  cherries  in  the  rise.'" 


ELY  HOUSE — THE  HALL.     (From  Gtose^s  "Antiquities  "  1772.) 


Edward  V.'s)  coronation,  of  which  the  time  ap- 
pointed then  so  near  approached,  that  the  pageants 
and  subtleties  were  in  making  day  and  night  at 
Westminster,  and  much  victuals  killed  therefore, 
that  afterwards  was  cast  away.  These  lords  so 
sitting  together,  communing  of  this  matter,  the  Pro- 
tector (Gloucester)  came  in  amongst  them,  just 
about  nine  of  the  clock,  saluting  them  courteously, 
and  excusing  himself  that  he  had  been  from  them 
so  long,  saying  merrily  that  he  had  been  a  sleeper 
that  day.  After  a  little  talking  with  them,  he  said 
unto  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  '  My  lord,  you  have  very 
good  strawberries  at  your  garden  in  Holborn ;  I 
require  you  let  us  have  a  mess  of  them.'  '  Gladly, 
my  lord,'  quoth  he.      'Would "God  I   had  scrnc 


To  make  clear  the  connection  existing  between 
Lord  Chancellor  Hatton  and  Ely  Place,  to  which 
we  alluded  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  give  a  short  sketch  of  that 
worthy  man  who,  says  Malcolm,  was  "  the  cause 
of  infinite  loss  and  trouble  to  the  Bishops  of  Ely 
for  upwards  of  an  hundred  years."  He  was  the 
youngest  of  three  sons  of  William  Hatton,  of  Hol- 
denby,  a  gentleman  of  good  family.  In  early  life 
he  was  entered  at  one  of  the  inns  of  court,  where 
he  studied  law,  but  as  a  gentleman  lawyer  only,  and 
not'with  the  view  of  deriving  any  advantage  from  it 
as  a  profession.  Whilst  engaged  in  this  way  he  had 
the  good  fortune  to  attract  the  notice  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  and  became  in  turn  Gentleman  Pensioner, 


5i8 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Ely  Place. 


Gentleman  of  the  Privy  Chamber,  Captain  of  the 
Guard,  Vice-Chamberlain,  Member  of  the  Privy 
Council,  and  Lord  Chancellor.  It  seems  he  was 
possessed  of  many  graces  of  person,  and  had  great 
ability  as  a  dancer.  Elizabeth's  fancy  for  him  grew 
to  sUch  a  height,  that  Leicester  did  his  best  to 
make  his  rival  ridiculous,  by  offering  to  introduce 
to  the  queen  a  dancing-master  whose  abilities  far 
excelled  those  of  Hatton.  But  his  project  was 
not  successful.  "  No,"  said  Elizabeth,  "  I  wUl  not 
see  your  man;  it  is  his  trade."  She  abandoned 
herself  to  her  extravagant  passion,  and  Hatton  and 
she  corresponded  in  the  most  fond  and  foolish 
style,  of  which  there  exists  plenty  of  proof  on  the 
shelves  of  the  State  Paper  Office. 

But  it  can  hardly  be  said  that  by  dancing  alone 
he  skipped  up  to  position  and  influence.  He  had 
many  good  mental  qualities,  and  his  advancement 
is  one  of  the  numerous  proofs  the  queen  gave  of 
her  penetration  in  the  choice  of  great  State  officers. 
On  his  becoming  Lord  Chancellor,  the  lawyers 
were  unable  to  stifle  their  indignation.  Some  of  the 
serjeants-at-law  even  refused  to  plead  before  him. 
But  Hatton,  though  deficient  in  reading  and  prac- 
tice as  a  lawyer,  had  common  sense  enough  to  hold 
his  place,  and  at  the  same  time  to  prove  himself 
qualified  for  it.  In  all  doubtful  cases  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  consulting  one  or  two  learned  legal  friends, 
and  the  result  was  that  his  decisions  were  by  no 
means  held  in  low  repute  in  the  courts  of  law. 

In  1576,  to  oblige  Queen  Bess,  Richard  Cox, 
Bishop  of  Ely,  granted  to  her  Majesty's  handsome 
Lord  Chancellor  the  gate-house  of  the  palace  (ex- 
cepting "  two  rooms  used  as  prisons  for  those 
who  were  arrested  or  delivered  in  execution  to  the 
bishop's  bailiff,  and  the  lower  rooms  used  for  the 
porter's  lodge"),  the  first  courtyard  within  the  gate- 
house, the  stables,  the  long  gallery,  with  the  rooms 
above  and  below  it,  and  some  other  apartments. 
Hatton  also  obtained  fourteen  acres  of  ground,  and 
the  keeping  of  the  gardens  and  orchards ;  and  of 
this  pleasant  little  domain  he  had  a  lease  of  twenty- 
one  years.  The  rent  was  not  a  heavy  one.  A 
red  rose  was  to  be  paid  for  the  gate-house  and 
garden,  and  for  the  ground  ten  loads  of  hay  and 
ten  pounds  sterling  per  annum.  The  grumbling 
bishop  had  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain; 
and  the  only  modification  he  could  obtain  in  the 
terms  was  the  insertion  of  a  clause  giving  him  and 
his  successors  free  access  through  the  gate-house, 
and  the  right  to  walk  in  the  garden,  and  gather 
twenty  baskets  of  roses  yearly. 

Once  in  possession  of  this  property,  Hatton 
began  building  and  repairing,  and  soon  contrived 
to  expend  ;^i,897  5s.  8d.  (about  ;^6,ooo  of  our 


money),  part  of  which  amount,  we  may  as  well  say 
here,  was  borrowed  from  his  royal  mistress.  As  he 
went  on,  his  views  expanded,  and,  not  satisfied 
with  what  he  had,  he  petitioned  Queen  Elizabeth 
to  alienate  to  him  the  whole  house  and  gardens. 
This,  in  days  when  sovereigns  laid  greedy  hands  on 
so  many  acres  of  rich  Church  property,  was  no  un- 
usual request,  and  the  queen  wrote  to  the  bishop 
requesting  him  to  demise  the  lands  to  her  till  such 
time  as  the  see  of  Ely  should  reimburse  Sir  Chris- 
topher for  the  money  he  had  laid  out,  and  was  still 
expending,  in  the  improvement  of  the  property. 
The  bishop  wrote  an  answer  befitting  the  dignity  of 
his  position.  "  In  his  conscience,"  he  said,  "  he 
could  not  do  it,  being  a  piece  of  sacrilege.  When 
he  became  Bishop  of  Ely  he  had  received  certain 
farms,  houses,  and  other  things,  which  former  pious 
princes  had  judged  necessary  for  that  place  arid 
calling ;  that  these  he  had  received,  by  the  queen's 
favour,  from  his  predecessors,  and  that  of  these  he 
was  to  be  a  steward,  not  a  scatterer  ;  that  he  could 
not  bring  his  mind  to  be  so  ill  a  trustee  for  his 
successors,  nor  to  violate  ,the  pious  wills  of  kings 
and  princes,  and,  in  effect,  rescind  their  last  testa- 
ments." And  he  concluded  by  telling  her  that  he 
could  scarcely  justify  those  princes  who  transferred 
things  appointed  for  pious  purposes  to  purposes 
less  pious. 

But  arguments  and  moral  reflections  were  thrown 
away  on  the  queen,  and  the  bishop  had  to  consent 
to_  a  conveyance  of  the  property  to  her  Majesty, 
who  was  to  re-convey  it  to  Hatton,  but  on  condition 
that  the  whole  should  be  redeemable  on  the  pay- 
ment of  the  sum  laid  out  by  Sir  Christopher. 

On  the  death  of  Dr.v  Cox,  his  successor.  Dr. 
Martin  Heton,  seemed  extremely  unwilling  to  carry 
out  this  agreement,  and  in  a  fit  of  fiiry  the  queen 
sat  down  and  wrote  him  one  of  her  most  charac- 
teristic epistles  : — 

"  Proud  Prelate  ! — I  understand  you  are  backward  in 
complying  with  your  agreement :  but  I  would  have  you  know 
that  I,  who  made  you  what  you  are,  can  unmake  you  ;  and 

if  you  do  not  forthwith  fulfil  your  engagement,  by  I 

will  immediately  unfrock  you.  ' '  Elizabeth." 

According  to  some  writers,  this  letter  was  ad- 
dressed to  Bishop  Cox  ;  but  it  is  of  no  great  con- 
sequence :  the  sender  is  of  more  interest  here  than 
the  receiver. 

The  debt  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  to  the  Queen 
had  now  reached  some  forty  thousand  pounds.  His 
prudence  had  fallen  asleep  when  he  allowed  her 
Majesty  to  become  his.  principal  creditor.  She 
required  a  settlement  of  their  account,  and  poor 
Hatton  was  unable  to  produce  the  necessary  funds. 
It  killed  him.     There  is  something  pathetic  in  the 


'  Ely  Place.] 


AN   HOSPITAL  AND  A  PRISON. 


519 


quaint  account  which  Fuller  gives  of  the  close  of 
his  prosperous  life  and  fortunes.  "It  broke  his 
heart,"  says  the  biographer  of  the  "Worthies," 
"that  the  queen,  which  seldom  gave  loans,  and 
never  forgave  due  debts,  rigorously  demanded  the 
present  payment  of  some  arrears  which  Sir  Chris- 
topher did  not  hope  to  have  remitted,  and  did  only 
desire  to  have  forborne  :  failing  herein  in  his  expec- 
tation, it  went  to  his  heart,  and  cast  him  into  a 
mortal  disease.  The  queen  afterwards  did  endea- 
vour what  she  could  to  recover  him,  bringing,  as 
some  say,  cordial  broths  unto  him  with  her  own 
hands ;  but  all  would  not  do.  There's  no  pulley 
can  draw  up  a  heart  once  cast  down,  though  a 
queen  herself  should  set  her  hand  thereunto."  He 
died  in  Ely  House  in  1591. 

The  scenes  in  Ely  Place  during  Hatton's  days 
must  often  have  been  gay  enough. 
"  Full  oft  within  the  spacious  walls. 

When  he  had  fifty  winters  o'er  him, 
My  grave  lord-keeper  led  the  brawls — 

The  seal  and  maces  danced  before  him. 
His  bushy  beard  and  shoe-strings  green, 

His  high-crowned  hat  and  satin  doublet, 
Moved  the  stout  heart  of  England's  queen, 

Though  Pope  and  Spaniard  could  not  trouble  it." 

So  Gray,  in  his  "Long  Story,"  wrote  of  Hatton 
in  his  manor  house  of  Stoke  Pogis ;  and  in  his 
town  residence  we  can  picture  him  quite  as  eager 
as  in  the  country  to  shake  the  light  fantastic  toe, 
and  cutting  quite  as  quaint  a  figure  as  there. 

It  was  in  Ely  House  that  Sir  Edward  Coke 
courted  the  rich  widow.  Lady  Hatton,  relict  of 
the  nephew  of  Sir  Christopher,  Queen  Elizabeth's 
Lord  Chancellor.  The  lady  was  young,  beautiful, 
eccentric,  and,  it  would  seem,  possessed  of  a  most 
vixenish  temper.  As  she '  was  rich,  she  had  no 
scarcity  of  wooers,  and  among  them  were  two  cele- 
brated men.  Coke  and  Bacon.  Many  a  curious 
scene  must  Hatton  House  have  witnessed,  as  those 
two  rivals  in  law  pursued  their  rivalry  in  love,  and 
cherished  their  long-felt  enmity  towards  each  other. 
Bacon's  ever-faithful  friend,  the  unfortunate  Earl  of 
Essex,  pled  his  cause  hard  with  the  enchanting 
widow  and  with  her  mother.  To  the  latter  he 
says,  in  one  of  his  letters,  "  If  she  were  my  sister 
or  my  daughter,  I  protest  I  would  as  confidently 
resolve  to  further  it  as  I  now  persuade  you;"  and 
in  another  epistle  he  adds,  "  If  my  faith  be  any- 
thing, I  protest,  if  I  had  one  as  near  me  as  she  is 
to  you,  I  had  rather  match  her  with  him  than 
with  men  of  far  greater  titles."  However,  Sir 
Edward  Coke  carried  off  the  prize,  such  as  it  was, 
and  bitterly  did  he  afterwards  repent  it. 

That  the  marriage  was  not  a  happy  one  we 
have  ahready  told  when  speaking  of  the  entries  in 


the  register-books  of  St.  Andrew's  Church,  Holbom. 
After  her  quarrel  with  her  husband.  Lady  Hatton 
betook  herself  again  to  Ely  House,  and  there  she 
effectually  repelled  the  entrance  of  Sir  Edward. 
In  Howell's  "Letters"  we  catch  a  sight  of  her 
in  one  of  her  peculiar  humours.  He  is  speaking 
of  Gondomar,  the  Spanish  Ambassador.  "He 
hath  waded  already  very  deep,"  he  says,  "and 
ingratiated  himself  with  divers  persons  of  quality, 
ladies  especially  :  yet  he  could  do  no  good  upon 
the  Lady  Hatton ;  whom  he  desired  lately,  that  in 
regard  he  was  her  next  neighbour  [at  Ely  House], 
he  might  have  the  benefit  of  her  back-gate  to  go 
abroad  into  the  fields,  but  she  put  him  off  with  a 
compliment  :  whereupon,  in  a  private  audience 
lately  with  the  king,  among  other  passages  of  merri- 
ment, he  told  him  that  my  Lady  Hatton  was  a 
strange  lady,  for  she  would  not  suffer  her  husband 
to  come  in  at  her  fore-door,  nor  him  to  go  out  at 
her  back-door,  and  so  related  the  whole  business." 

The  "  strange  lady,"  as  she  is  called  by  Howell, 
"dyed  in  London  on  the  3rd  January,  1646,  at  her 
house  in  Holborne." 

During  the  anxious  period  of  the  civil  war,  Ely 
Place  was  turned  to  good  account,  and  made  use 
of  both  as  an  hospital  and  a  prison.  We  may  show 
this  by  the  following  extracts  from  the  Journals  of 
the  House  of  Commons  : — 

'■'  1642-3.  Jan.  3.  The  palace  was  this  day 
ordered  to  be  converted  into  a  prison,  and  John 
Hunt,  sergeant-at-arms,  appointed  keeper  during 
the  pleasure  of  the  House.  He  was  at  the  same 
time  commanded  to '  take  care  that  the  gardens, 
trees,  chapel,  and  its  windows,  received  no  injury. 
A  sufficient  sum  for  repairs  was  granted  from  the 
revenues  of  the  see." 

"  1660.  March  i.  Ordered,  that  it  be  referred 
to  a  committee  to  consider  how  and  in  what  manner 
the  said  widows,  orphans,  and  maimed  soldiers  at 
Ely  House  may  be  provided  for  and  paid,  for  the 
future,  with  the  least  prejudice,  and  most  ease  to 
the  nation,  and  how  a  weekly  revenue  may  be 
settled  for  their  maintenance ;  and  how  the  maimed 
soldiers  may  be  disposed  of,  so  as  the  nation  may 
be  eased  of  the  charge,  and  how  they  may  be  pro- 
vided of  a  preaching  minister." 

"March  13.  ;^i,7oo  was  voted  for  the  above 
purpose,  and  for  those  at  the  Savoy,  and  certain 
members  of  the  committee  were  named  to  inquire 
into  the  receipts  and  expenditures  of  the  keepers 
of  the  hospitals." 

Malcolm  gives  a  lamentable  account  of  the  incon- 
venience and  mortification  to  which  the  bishops 
were  in  succession  subjected  in  consequence  of 
the  unfortunate  lease  given  to  the  Hatton  family. 


520 


OLD  ANC    new  LONDON. 


[Ely  .Place. 


He  is  speaking  of  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth 
century  : — "  The  gate-house  was  taken  down,  and 
great  part  of  the  dwelling,  and  their  lordships  were 
compelled  to  enter  the  apartments  reserved  for  their 
use  by  the  old  back  way;  several  of  the  cellars,  even 
under  the  rooms  they  occupied,  were  in  possession 
of  tenants ;  and  those  intermixed  with  their  own, 
all  of  which  had  windows  and  passages  into  the 
cloisters. 

"  One  half  of  the  crypt  under  the  chapel,  which 
had  been  used  for  interments,  was  then  frequented 
as  a  drinking  place,  where  liquor  was  retailed ;  and 
the  intoxication  of  the  people  assembled  often  inter- 
rupted the  offices  of  religion  above  them.  Such  were 
the  encroachments  of  the  new  buildings,  that  the 
bishop  had  his  horses  brought  through  the  great  hall, 
for  want  of  a  more  proper  entrance." 

Some  of  the  most  memorable  of  feasts  have  been 
held  here,  the  Bishops  of  Ely,  in  the  true  spirit 
of  hospitality,  having  apparently  been  in  the  habit 
of  lending  their  hall  for  the  festive  gatherings  of 
the  newly-elected  Serjeants  of  law.  No  doubt  the 
halls  of  the  Inns  of  Court  were  often  too  small  to 
accommodate  the  number  of  guests.  We  shall 
notice  three  of  these  Serjeants'  merry-makings.  The 
first  took  place  in  Michaelmas  Term,  1464,  and 
is  noticeable  for  the  fact  that  the  Lord  Mayor 
took  great  offence  at  a  slight  which  the  learned 
gentlemen  unthinkingly  put  upon  him.  He  came 
to  the  banquet,  and  found  a  certain  nobleman — 
Grey  of  Ruthin,  then  Lord  Treasurer  of  England 
— preferred  before  him,  and  sitting  in  the  seat  of 
state.  That  seat,  by  custom,  he  held,  should  have 
been  occupied  by  himself;  so,  in  high  dudgeon, 
his  lordship  marched  off,  with  his  following  of 
aldermen,  to  his  own  house,  where  he  compen- 
sated his  faithful  adherents  by  a  splendid  entertain- 
inent,  including  all  the  delicacies  of  the  season. 
He  was  wonderfully  displeased,  says  Stow,  at  the 
way  in  which  he  had  been  treated,  "  and  the  new 
Serjeants  and  others  were  right  sorry  therefore,  and 
had  rather  than  much  good  (as  they  said)  it  had 
not  so  happened." 

Another  banquet  took  place  in  1495,  and  on 
this  occasion  Henry  VIL  was  present,  with  his 
queen.  This  was  one  of  the  occasions,  it  has  been 
pointed  out,  when  the  victor  of  Bosworth  strove  to 
correct  a  little  the  effect  of  his  sordid  habits,  his 
general:  seclusion, '  and  his  gloomy,  inscrutable 
nature,  which  altogether  prevented  him  from  obtain- 
ing the  popularity  which  is  agreeable  to  most 
monarchs — even  to  those  the  least  inclined  to 
purchase  it  at  any  considerable  cost.  "  The  king," 
says  his  great  historian,  Bacon,  "  to  honour  the 
feast,  was  present  with  his  queen  at  the  dinner, 


being  a  prince  that  was  ever  ready  to  grace  and 
countenance  the  professors  of  the  law ;  having  a 
little  of  that,  that  as  he  governed  his  subjects  by  his 
laws,  so  he  governed  his  laws  by  his  lawyers." 

But  the  last  feast  we  shall  mention  was  the  most 
splendid  of  all.  Eleven  Serjeants  had  been  created 
in  November,  1531,  and  it  was  resolved  to  celebrate 
the  event  on  an  unparalleled  scale  of  magnificence. 
The  entertainment  lasted  five  days,  and  on  the 
fourth  day  the  proceedings  were  graced  by  the 
presence  of  Henry  VIII.  and  his  queen,  Catherine 
of  Aragon;  but  these  two  dined  "in  two  cham- 
bers," Stow  parenthetically  observes.  At  this  very 
time  the  final  measures  were  in  progress  for  the 
divorce  of  the  unfortunate  queen,  and  Henry's 
marriage  with  Anne  Boleyn.  Besides  these  dis- 
tinguished personages,  the  foreign  ambassadors 
were  there,  and  they  also  had  a  chamber  to  them- 
selves. In  the  hall,  at  the  chief  table,  sat  Sir 
Nicolas  Lambard,  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  and 
with  him  were  the  judges.  Barons  of  the  Exchequer, 
arid  certain  aldermen.  The  Master  of  the  Rolls 
and  the  Master  of  the  Chancery  were  supported  at 
the  board  on  the  south  side  by  many  worshipful 
citizens,  and  on  the  north  side  of  the  hall  there 
were  other  aldermen  and  merchants  of  the  City. 
The  remainder  of  the  company,  comprising  knights, 
esquires,  and  gentlemen,  were  accommodated  in  the 
gallery  and  the  cloisters,  and,  there  being,  appa- 
rently, a  great  scarcity  of  room,  even  in  the  chapel. 

"  It  would  be  tedious,"  says  Stow,  to  set  down  all 
"  the  preparation  of  fish,  flesh,  and  other  victuals, 
spent  in  this  feast;"  and  he  hints  that  no  one 
would  believe  him  if  he  did.  To  excite  the  wonder 
and  the  appetite  of  his  readers,  however,  he  gives 
a  few  particulars.  There  were  twenty-four  "  great 
beefs,"  or  oxen,  at  26s.  8d.  each,  and  one  at  24s. ; 
one  hundred  "fat  muttons,"  at  25.  lod. ;  fifty-one 
"  great  veals,"  at  4s.  8d.  ;  thirty-four  "  porks,"  or 
boars,  at  3s.  3d. ;  ninety-one  pigs,  at  6d. ;  ten  dozen 
"  capons  of  Greece  of  one  poulter  (for  they  had 
three),"  at  is.  8d. ;  nine  dozen  and  six  "capons  of 
Kent,"  at  is. ;  nineteen  dozen  "  capons  course,"  at 
6d.;  innumerable  pullets,  at  2d.  and  ajd. ;  pigeons, 
at  lod.  the  dozen ;  larks,  at  sd.  the  dozen ;  and 
fourteen  dozen  swans  at  a  price  not  mentioned. 
And  the  feast,  says  the  honest  historian,  "wanted 
little  of  a  feast  at  a  coronation." 

No  doubt  it  was  at  Ely  Place  that  a  ludicrous 
scene  took  place  between  the  Bishop  of  Ely  and 
two  bailiffs,  about  the  close  of  the  seventeenth 
century — the  conclusion  of  an  adventure  with  the 
celebrated  comedian,  Joe  Haines.  Haines  (who 
died  in  1701)  was  always  indulging  in  practical 
1  jokes   and    swindling  tricks,   and    meeting   with 


Ely  Place.] 


CHEATING  A  BISHOP. 


S-'i 


comical  adventures.  One  day  he  was  arrested  by 
two  bailiffs  for  a  debt  of  twenty  pounds,  just  as  the 
Bishop  of  Ely  was  ridmg  by  in  his  carriage.  Quoth 
Joe  to  the  bailiffs,  "Gentlemen,  here'is  my  cousin, 
the  Bishop  of  Ely ;  let  me  but  speak  a  word  to  him, 
and  he  will  pay  the  debt  and  costs."  The  bishop 
ordered  his  carriage  to  stop,  whilst  Joe— quite  a 
stranger  to  him — whispered  in  his  ear,  "  My  lord, 
here  are  a  couple  of  poor  waverers,  who  have 
such  terrible  scruples  of  conscience  that  I  fear  they 
will  hang  themselves."  "Very  well,"  replied  the 
bishop.  So,  calling  to  the  bailiffs,  he  said,  "  You 
two  men,  come  to  me  to-morrow,  and  I  will  satisfy 
you."  The  bailiffs  bowed,  and  went  their  way. 
Joe,  tickled  in  the  midriff,  and  hugging  himself  with 
his  device,  took  himself  off.  The  next  morning 
the  bailiffs  repaired  to  Ely  Place.  "  Well,  my  good 
men,"  said  his  lordship,  "what  are  your  scruples 
of  conscience?"  "Scruples!"  replied  they,  "we 
have  no  scruples;  we  are  bailiffs,  my  lord,  who 
yesterday  arrested  your  cousin,  Joe  Haines,  for 
twenty  pounds.  Your  lordship  promised  to  satisfy 
us  to-day;  and  we  hope  you  will  be  as  good  as  your 
word."  The  bishop,  to  prevent  any  further  scandal 
to  his  name,  immediately  paid  all  that  was  owing. 

A  scene  almost  without  a  parallel  was  once 
arranged  in  Ely  Place.  This  was  a  famous  masque, 
with  its  attendant  anti-masque,  which  came  off 
during  the  brilliant  part  of  the  reign  of  the  ill-fated 
Charles  I.  "Not  the  least  interesting  circum- 
stances," it  has  been  observed,  "attending  the 
splendid  pageant,  are  the  character  and  position  of 
the  men  who  had  the  management  of  the  affair,  and 
of  him  who  has  made  himself  its  historian."  This 
last  was  Whitelock,  the  learned  and  estimable 
lawyer,  who,  during  the  period  preceding,  compris- 
ing, and  following  the  Commonwealth,  enjoyed  the 
respect  of  all  parties,  and  has  left  us  one  of  the 
most  valuable  records  of  the  momentous  events  he 
witnessed  and  in  which  he  took  a  part.  That  his 
heart  was  in  this  masque  and  anti-masque  is  evident 
from  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  describes  both, 
and  the  space  which  he  devotes  to  them  in  his 
great  work. 

The  year  before  this  gorgeous  display,  the  irre- 
pressible Mr.  Prynne  had  published  his  "  Histrio- 
Mastix,"  in  which  he  discharged  a  perfect  broad- 
side of  abuse  against  plays  and  players,  masques 
and  masquers,  and  generally  against  all  kinds  of 
sport  and  pastime.  The  Queen  Henrietta  Maria, 
not  long  before,  had  engaged  in  some  sort  of 
theatrical  performance  with  her  maids  of  honour. 
The  book  was  therefore  offensive  to  the  whole 
court,  and  no  doubt  to  this  circumstance  the  writer 
owed  in  part  the  infamous  severity  of  his  punish- 


ment. But  before  he  took  his  turn  in  the  pillory, 
and  lost  his  ears,  the  me^nbers  of  the  four  Inns 
of  Court  designed  a  masque, "  as  an  expression  of 
their  love  and  duty  to  their  majesties."  It  was 
whispered  to  them  from  the  court  that  it  would  be 
well  taken  from  them  ;  and  some  held  it  the  more 
seasonable,  because  this  action  would  manifest 
the  difference  of  their  opinion  from  Mr.  Prynne's 
new  learning,  and  serve  to  confute  his  "Histrio- 
Mastix"  against  interludes.  It  was  therefore  agreed 
by  the  benchers  to  have  the  solemnity  performed 
in  the  most  nobly  and  stately  manner  that  could 
be  invented. 

A  committee  was  formed,  consisting  of  two 
members  from  each  House;  among  the  com- 
mittee-men being  Whitelock  himself,  Edward  Hyde 
(who  afterwards  became  Lord  Clarendon),  and 
the  famous  Selden.  They  set  to  work,  and  White- 
lock's  part  in  the  arrangements  was  to  super- 
intend the  music.  This  he  did  with  energy.  "  I 
made  choice,"  he  says,  "of  Mr.  Simon  Ivy,  an 
honest  and  able  musician,  of  excellent  skill  in  his 
art,  and  of  Mr.  Lawes  (a.  name  famihar  to  every 
lover  of  Milton)  to  compose  the  airs,  lessons,  and 
songs  for  the  masque,  and  to  be  master  of  all  the 
music,  under  me."  He  goes  on  to  tell  what  meet- 
ings he  had  of  "  Enghsh,  French,  Italian,  German, 
and  other  masters  of  music;  forty  lutes  at  one  time, 
beside  other  instruments  in  concert."  At  last 
everything  was  arranged,  and  one  Candlemas,  in 
the  afternoon,  "  the  masquers,  horsemen,  musicians, 
dancers,  and  all  that  were  actors  in  this  business, 
according  to  order,  met  at  Ely  House,  in  Holborn ; 
there  the  grand  committee  sat  all  day  to  order 
all  affairs;  and  when  the  evening  was  come,  all 
things  being  in  full  readiness,  they  began  to  set 
forth  in  this  order  down  Chancery  Lane  to  White- 
hall." And  here  we  can  picture  to  ourselves  the 
crowded  streets,  the  enthusiastic  spectators,  the 
loyal  lawyers,  and  Prynne  and  his  sympathisers 
scowling  and  muttering  in  the  background,  all  on 
a  sharp  evening  in  February,  1633. 

"  The  first  that  marched  were  twenty  footmen 
in  scarlet  liveries,  with  silver  lace,  each  one  having 
his  sword  by  his  side,  a  baton  in  one  hand,  and  a 
lighted  torch  in  the  other ;  these  were  the  marshal's 
men,  who  made  way,  and  were  about  the  marshal, 
waiting  his  commands.  After  them,  and  sometimes 
in  the  midst  of  them,  came  the  marshal — then  Mr. 
Barrel,  afterwards  knighted  by  the  king :  he  was  of 
Lincoln's  Inn,  an  extraordinary  handsome  proper 
gentleman.  He  was  moimted  upon  one  of  the 
king's  best  horses  and  richest  saddles,  and  his  own 
habit  was  exceeding  rich  and  glorious,  his  horseman- 
ship very  gallant ;  and  besides  his  marshal's  men,  he 


522 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Ely  Place. 


hud  two  lackeys  who  carried  torches  by  him,  and  a 
page  in  livery  that  went  by  him  carrying  his  cloak. 
After  him  followed  one  hundred  gentlemen  of  the 
Inns  of  Court,  five-and-twenty  chosen  out  of  each 
house,  of  the  most  proper  and  handsome  young 
gentlemen  of  the  societies.    Every  one  of  them  was 


lackeys  carried  torches,  and  the  page  his  master's 
cloak.  The  richness  of  their  apparel  and  furniture, 
glittering  lay  the  light  of  a  multitude  ol  torches 
attending  on  them,  with  the  motion  and  stirring  of 
their  mettled  horses,  and  the  many  and  various  gay 
liveries  of  their  servants,  but  especially  the  personal 


ELY  CHAPEL.     (From  a  View  hy  Malcolm^ 


mounted  on  the  best  horses,  and  with  the  best 
furniture  that  the  king's  stables,  and  the  stables  of 
all  the  ij^oblemen  in  town,  could  afford ;  and  they 
were  forward  on  this  occasion  to  lend  them  to 
the  Inns  of  Court.  Every  one  of  these  hundred 
gentlemen  was  in  very  rich  clothes — scarce  anything 
but  gold  and .  silver  lace  to  be  seen  of  them  ;  and 
each  gentleman  had  a  page  and  two  lackeys  wait- 
ing on  him,  in  his  livery,  by  his  horse's  side ;  the 


beauty  and  gallantry  of  the  handsome  young  gentle- 
men, made  the  most  glorious  and  splendid  show 
that  ever  was  beheld  in  England. 

"After  the  horsemen  came  the  anti-masquers, 
and,  as  the  horsemen  had  their  music — about  a 
dozen  of  the  best  trumpeters  proper  for  them, 
aiid  in  their  livery — sounding  before  them — so  the 
first  anti-masquers,  being  of  cripples  and  beggars 
on  horseback,  had  their  music  of  keys  and  tongs, 


Ely  Place.] 


A  GAY  PROCESSION. 


523 


S24 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Ely  Place. 


and  the  like,  snapping,  and  yet  playing  in  a 
concert,  before  them.  These  beggars  were  also 
mounted,  but  on  the  poorest,  leanest  jades  that 
could  be  gotten  out  of  the  dirt-carts  or  elsewhere ; 
and  the  variety  and  change  from  such  noble  music 
and  gallant  horses  as  went  before  them  unto  their 
proper  music  and  pitiful  horses,  made  both  of 
them  more  pleasing.  The  habits  and  properties 
of  these  cripples  and  beggars  were  most  inge- 
niously fitted  (as  of  all  the  rest)  by  the  committee's 
direction,  wherein  (as  in  the  whole  business)  Mr. 
Attorney  Noy,  Sir  John  Finch,  Sir  Edward  Herbert, 
Mr.  Selden,  those  great  and  eminent  persons,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  committee,  had  often  meetings, 
and  took  extraordinary  care  and  pains  in  the  order- 
ing of  this  business,  and  it  seemed  a  pleasure  to 
them. 

"After  the  beggars'  anti-masque  came  men  'on 
horseback  playing  upon  pipes,  whistles,  and  instru- 
ments sounding  notes  like  those  of  birds  of  all 
sorts,  and  in  excellent  concert,  and  were  followed 
by  the  anti-masque  of  birds.  This  was  an  owl  in 
an  ivy-bush,  with  many- several  sorts  of  other  birds 
in  a  cluster,  gazmg,  as  it  were,  upon  her.  These 
were  little  boys  put  into  covers  of  the  shapes  of 
those  birds,  rarely  fitted,  and  sitting  on  small 
horses,  with  footmen  going  by  them  with  torches 
in  their  hands;  and  there  were  some,  besides,  to 
look  unto  the  children ;  and  this  was  very  pleasant 
to  the  beholders. 

"  After  this  anti-masque  came  other  musicians  on 
horseback,  playing  upon  bagpipes,  hornpipes,  and 
such  kind  of  northern  music,  speaking  the  follow- 
ing anti-masque  of  projectors  to  be  of  the  Scotch 
and  northern  quarters;  and  these,  as  all  the  rest, 
had  many  footmen,  with  torches,  waiting  on  them. 
— First  in  this  anti-masque  rode  a  fellow  upon  a 
little  horse  with  a  great  bit  in  his  mouth,  and  upon 
the  man's  head  was  a  bit,  with  headstall  and  reins 
fastened,  and  signified  a  projector,  who  begged  a 
patent  that  none  in  the  kingdom  might  ride  their 
horses  but  with  such  bits  as  they  would  buy  of 
him.  Then  came  another  fellow,  with  a  bunch  of 
carrots  upon  his  head,  and  a  capon  on  his  fist,  de- 
scribing a  projector  who  begged  a  patent  of  mono- 
poly as  the  first  inventor  of  the  art  to  feed  capons 
fat  with  carrots,  and  that  none  but  himself  might 
have  use  of  that  invention,  and  have  the  privilege 
for  fourteen  years,  according  to  the  statute.  Several 
other  projectors  were  in  like  manner  personated  in 
this  anti-masque ;  and  it  pleased  the  spectators  the 
more  because  by  it  an  information  was  covertly 
given  to  the  king  of  the  unfitness  and  ridiculous- 
ness of  these  projects  against  the  law;  and  the 
Attorney  Noy,  who  had  most  knowledge  of  them, 


had  a  great  hand  in  this   anti-masque  of  pro- 
jectors." 

Other  anti-masques  followed,  and  then  came 
chariots  with  musicians,  chariots  with  heathen  gods 
and  goddesses,  then  more  chariots  with  musicians, 
"  playing  upon  .  excellent  and  loud  music,"  and 
going  immediately  before  the  first  grand  masquer's 
chariot.  This  "was  not  so  large  as  those  that 
went  before,  but  most  curiously  framed,  carved 
and  painted  with  an  exquisite  art,  and  purposely 
for  this  service  and  occasion."  Its  colours  were 
silver  and  crimson :  "  it  was  all  over  painted  richly 
with  these  colours,  even  the  wheels  of  it,  most 
artificially  laid  on,  and  the  carved  work  of  it  was 
as  curious  for  that  art,  and  it  made  a  stately  show. 
It  was  drawn  with  four  horses,  all  on  breast,  and 
they  were  covered  to  their  heels  all  over  with  cloth 
of  tissue,  of  the  colours  of  crimson  and  silver,  huge 
plumes  of  red  and  white  feathers  on  their  heads 
and  buttocks  ;  the  coachman's  cap  and  feather,  his 
long  coat,  and  his  very  whip  and  cushion,  of  the 
same  stuff  and  colour.  In  this  chariot  sat  the 
four  grand  masquers  of  Gray's  Inn,  their  habits, 
doublets,  trunk-hose,  and  caps  of  most  rich  cloth 
of  tissue,  and  wrought  as  thick  with  silver  spangles 
as  they  could  be  placed ;  large  white  silk  stockings 
up  to  their  trunk-hose,  and  rich  sprigs  in  their  cap?, 
themselves  proper  and  beautiful  young  gentlemen. 
On  each  side  of  the  chariot  were  four  footmen,  in 
liveries  of  the  colour  of  the  chariot,  carrying  huge 
flambeaux  in  their  hands,  which,  with  the  torches, 
gave  such  a  lustre  to  the  paintings,  the  spangles, 
and  habits,  that  hardly  anything  could  be  invented 
to  appear  more  glorious."  Similar  chariots,  simi- 
larly occupied,  followed  from  each  of  tlie  other 
three  Inns  of  Court,  the  only  difference  being  in 
the  colours.  And  in  this  manner  the  procession 
reached  Whitehall,  where  the  king,  from  a  window 
of  the  Banqueting  House— it  might  possibly  be  the 
very  one  out  of  which  he  stepped  to  the  scaffold- 
saw,  with  his  queen  Henrietta  Maria,  the  whole 
pageant  pass  before  him.  The  royal  spectators 
were  so  pleased  with  the  show,  that  they  sent  a 
message  to  the  marshal  requesting  him  to  conduct 
his  following  round  the  Tilt  Yard  opposite,  that 
they  might  see  it  a  second  time.  This  done,  they 
entered  the  palace,  where  the  masque,  to  which 
all  this  gorgeous  spectacle  was  but  a  preliminary, 
began,  and,  says  Whitelock,  it  was  "  incomparably 
performed,  in  the  dancing,  speeches,  music,  and 
scenes;  the  dances,  figures,  and  properties;  the 
voices,  instruments,  songs,  airs,  and  composures; 
the  words  and  actions  were  all  of  them  exact,  and 
none  failed  in  their  parts."  Henrietta  Maria  was 
so  charmed,  that  she  resolved  to  have  the  whole 


Ely  Place.] 


NOAH'S  ARK. 


525 


repeated  shortly  afterwards.  The  festivities  con- 
cluded with  dancing,  when  the  queen  and  her  ladies 
of  honour  were  led  out  by  the  principal  masquers. 
The  expense  of  this  spectacle  was  not  less  than 
;^2i,ooo.-  Some  of  the  musicians  had  ;^ioo  apiece 
for  their  blowing  and  fiddling. 

The  last  "mystery"  represented  in  England  was 
that  of  "  Christ's  Passion,"  in  the  reign  of  James  I., 
which,  Prynne  tells  us,  was  "performed  at  EUe 
House,  in  Holborne,  when  Gondomar  lay  there, 
on  Good  Friday,  at  night,  at  which  there  were 
thousands  present." 

This  incident  suggests  one  or  two  facts  relating 
to  the  performance  in  England  of  miracle-plays 
and  mysteries.  These  were  founded  on  the  lives 
of  the  saints,  and  on  those  parts  of  the  Scrip- 
tures best  represented  by  the  latter  term.  About 
the  earliest  mention  of  a  miracle-play  is  of  the 
date  of  mo,  when  one  was  performed  in  the 
Abbey  of  St  Albans.  Whether  Geoflfrey,  a  learned 
Norman,  who  composed  this  religious  drama,  then 
first  introduced  the  custom  of  acting  such  pieces, 
is  by  no  means  certain.  London  had  plays  repre- 
senting the  working  of  miracles  and  the  sufferings 
of  the  saints  about  the  year  1170J  so  we  learn 
from  the  monk  Fitz-Stephen.  That  these  exhi- 
bitions "were  well  attended,"  says  Malcolm,  in  his 
"Manners  and  Customs  of  London,"  "we  cannot 
doubt  for  a  moment,  as  there  was  a  double  in- 
ducement, compounded  of  curiosity  and  devotion. 
Piers  Plowman  and  Chaucer  both  confirm  the  fact 
of  the  general  approbation  with  which  they  were 
received."  They  were,  it  is  certain,  introduced 
into  England  fi-om  the  Continent. 

As  an  interesting  specimen  of  the  "mysteries," 
we  may  take  the  play  of  Noah,  preserved  in  the 
Towneley  collection.  It  will  serve  as  an  example 
of  the  corrupt  and  not  very  reverent  manner  in 
which  the  events  of  Scripture  history  were,  during 
the  Middle  Ages,  communicated  to  the  common 
people.  When  Noah  carries  to  his  wife  the  news 
of  the  impending  Flood,  she  is  introduced  abusing 
him  for  his  credulity,  sneering  at  him  as  an  habitual 
bearer  of  bad  tidings,  and  complaining  of  the  hard 
life  she  leads  with  him.  He  tells  her  to  "  hold  her 
tongue,"  but  she  only  becomes  more  abusive,  till 
he  is  provoked  to  strike  her.  She  returns  the  blow 
with  interest,  and  they  fall  to  fighting,  till  Noah 
has  had  enough  of  it,  and  runs  off  as  hard  as  he 
can  to  his  work.  When  the  ark  is  finished  there 
is  another  quarrel,  for  Noah's  wife  laughs  at  the 
structure,  and  declares  she  will  never  go  into  it. 
But  the  water  rises  fast,  and  the  danger  becomes 
so  great,  that  she  changes  her  mind  and  jumps  on 
board,  only,  however,  to  pick  another  quarrel  with 


her  husband.  They  fight  again,  but  this  time 
Noah  comes  off  victorious,  and  his  partner  com- 
plains of  being  beaten  "  blue,"  whilst  their  three 
sons  lament  over  the  family  discord. 

The  chapel  of  Ely  Place,  still  standing,  was 
dedicated  to  St.  Etheldreda.  And  who  was  she? 
She  was  the  daughter  of  Anna,  King  of  the  West 
Angles,  and  was  bom  in  Suffolk,  about  the  year 
630.  She  took  part  in  the  erection  of  the  cathedral 
of  Ely,  and  in  course  of  time  was  elected  to  fill 
the  position  of  its  patron  saint.  She  died,  in  679, 
the  abbess  of  the  convent  of  Ely.  Sometimes  St. 
Etheldreda  is  called  by  the  more  homely  name  of 
St.  Audry ;  and  from  this  second  appellation  is 
derived  the  familiar  adjective  tawdry.  It  is  a 
digression,  but  we  may  as  well  tell  how  this  came 
about.  At  the  fair  of  St.  Audry,  at  Ely,  in  the 
olden  time,  a  description  of  cheap  necklaces  used 
to  be  sold,  which  under  tlie  name  of  tawdry  laces, 
were  long  very  popular.  In  process  of  time  the 
epithet  tawdry  came  to  be  applied  to  any  piece  of 
glittering  tinsel  or  shabby  magnificence. 

The  builder  of  the  chapel  is  unknoivn,  but 
Malcolm  conjectures  that  it  is  to  Thomas  Arundel 
that  we  are  indebted  for  this  beautiful  but  soHtary 
fragment,  "now  left  for  the  admiration  of  the  anti- 
quary and  man  of  taste — the  product  of  an  archi- 
tect familiar  with  the  rich  fancy  of  the  Edwardian 
style,  fully  indulged  in  the  grand  east  window." 

"  In  spite  of  patchings  and  modernisings,"  says 
Mr,  J.  Saunders,  in  1842,  "St.  Etheldreda's  Chapel 
retains  much  of  its  original  aspect.  On  looking 
at  the  exterior,  if  we  shut  our  eyes  to  the  lower 
portion,  where  a  part  of  the  window  has  been  cut 
away,  and  an  entrance  made  where  evidently  none 
was  ever  intended  to  exist,  we  perceive  the  true 
stamp  of  the  days  when  men  built  the  cathedrals — 
works  which  no  modern  art  has  rivalled,  and  which 
yet  seemed  so  easy  to  them,  that  the  names  of 
the  architects  have  failed  to  be  preserved.  And 
in  the  interior  the  effect  of  the  two  windows, 
alike  in  general  appearance,  yet  differing  in  every 
respect  in  detail,  is  magnificent,  although  the 
storeyed  panes,  which  we  may  be  sure  once  filled 
them,  are  gone.  The  bold  arch  of  the  ceiling, 
plain  and  whitewashed  though  now  be  its  surface, 
retains  so  much  of  the  old  effect,  that,  though  we 
miss  the  fine  oak  carvings,  we  do  not  forget  them. 
The  noble  row  of  windows  on  each  side  are  in  a 
somewhat  similar  condition.  All  their  exquisite 
tracery  has  disappeared,  but  their  number,  height, 
and  size  tell  us  what  they  must  have  been  in  the 
palmy  days  of  Ely  Place ;  and  if  we  are  still  at  a 
loss,  there  is  fortunately  ample  evidence  remaining 
in  the  ornaments  which  surround  the  upper  por- 


S26 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Holborn. 


tions  of  the  windows  in  the  interior,  and  divide 
them  from  each  other.      We   scarcely  remember 
anything  more  exquisite  in  architecture  than   the 
fairy  workmanship   of  the  delicate,   pinnacle-Hke 
ornaments  which  rise  between  and  overtop  these 
windows.     Of   the    original    entrances    into    the 
chapel  one  only  remains,  which  is  quite  unused, 
and  is  situated  at  the   south-west    corner   of  the 
edifice.    Stepping  through  the  doorway  into  a  small 
court  that  encloses  it,  we  perceive  that  it  has  been 
a   very   beautiful,    deeply-receding,   pointed  arch, 
but  now  so  greatly  decayed  that  even  the  character 
of   its    ornaments   is   but    partially    discoverable. 
Here,  too,  is   a   piece  of  the  wall  of  one  of  the 
original    buildings    of   the   palace — a   stupendous 
piece  of  brickwork  and  masonry ;  and  on  looking 
up,  one  of  the  octagonal  buttresses,  with  its  conical 
top,  which  ornamented  the  angles  of  the  building, 
is  sedn.     Descending  a  flight  of  steps,  we  find  a 
low  window  looking  into  the  crypt.     .     .     .     It  is 
now  filled  with  casks,  and  we  can  but  just  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  enormous  chestnut  posts  and  girders 
with  which  the  floor  of  the  chapel  is  supported." 

There  are  five  windows  in  the  length.  As  for 
the  west  and  east  windows,  the  former  differs  from 
the  latter,  but  it  is  at  present  hidden  from  view  by 
a  gallery  and  a  small  organ. 

The  diarist,  Evelyn,  has  two  notices  of  Ely  Place 
chapel  which  may  be  worth  our  attention.  The  first 
runs  thus: — "November  14th,  1668.  In  London. 
Invited  to  the  consecration  o£  that  excellent  person, 
the  Dean  of  Ripon,  Dr.  Wilkins,  now  made  Bishop 
of  Chester.  It  was  at  Ely  House  :  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  Dr.  Cosin  (Bishop  of  Durham), 
the    Bishops   of  Ely,    SaUsbury,   Rochester,    and 


others,  oflSciating.     Dr.  Tillotson  preached.     Then 
we  went  to  a  sumptuous  dmner  in  the  hall,  where 
were  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  Judges,  Secretaries 
of  State,  Lord  Keeper,  Council,  noblenien,  and  in- 
numerable other  company,  who  were  honourers  of 
this  incomparable  man,  invariably  beloved  by  all 
who  knew  him."      The  other   is    of  a   domestic 
character,  and  gives  us  a  pleasant  glimpse  of  the 
kindly  parental  feelings  of  this  estimable  man  : — 
"27th   April,   1693.      My  daughter  Susanna  was 
married  to  William  Draper,  Esq.,  in  the  chapel  of 
Ely  House,  by  Dr.  Tenison,  Bishop  of  Lincoln 
(since  Archbishop).    I  gave  her  in  portion  ;^4,ooo. 
Her  jointure  is  j£s°°  P^^  annum.      I  pray  God 
Almighty  to  give  her  his  blessing  on  this  marriage." 
The    chapel  was  at  one  time  leased  to    the 
National  Society  for  a  school-room,  after  which  it 
remained  for  a  while  untenanted  ;  but  on  the  19th 
of  December,  1843,  ^^  was  opened  for  the  service 
of  the  Established  Church  in  the  Welsh  language, 
being  the  first  service  of  the  kind  ever  attempted 
in  London.     In  1874  it  was  bought  by  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church. 

An  amusing  incident  took  place  in  Ely  Chapel 
on  the  arrival  of  the  news  of  the  defeat  of  the 
young  Pretender  by  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  in 
1746.  The  clerk  allowed  his  loyalty  to  overcome 
his  devotion,  and  struck  up  a  lively  ditty  in  praise 
of  the  reigning  family.  Cowper  thought  this  worthy 
of  notice  in  his  "  Task  :  " — 

"  So  in  the  chapel  of  old  Ely  House, 
When  wandering  Charles,  who  meant  to  be  the  third, 
Had  fled  from  William,  and  the  news  was  fresh, 
The  simple  clerk,  but  loyal,  did  announce, 
And  eke  did  roar,  right  merrily,  two  staves 
Sung  to  the  praise  and  glory  of  King  George." 


CHAPTER   LIX. 
HOLBORN,  TO  CHANCERY  LANE. 

The  Divisions  of  Holbom— A  Miry  Thoroughfare— Oldboume  Bridge— In  the  Beginning  of  the  Century— Holborn  Bars— The  Middle  Row— On 
the'.Way  to  Tyburn- A  Sweet  Youth  in  the  Cart— Clever  Tom  Clinch— Riding  up  Heavy  Hill— The  Hanging  School— Cruel  Whippings- 
Statue  to  the  late  Prince  Consort— The  "  Rose"  Tavern— Union  Court— Bartlett's  Buildings— Dyers'  Buildings— A  Famous  Pastry-cook- 
Castle  Street— A  Strange  Ceremony— Cursitor  Street— Lord  Chancellor  Eldon— A  Runaway  Match— Southampton  House— An  old  Temple 
—Southampton  Buildings— Flying  for  Dear  Life— Jacob's  CoBFee  House— Ridiculous  Enactments— Dr.  Birkbeck  and  Mechanics'  Insti- 
tutions—An Extraordinary  Well— Fulwood's  Rents— Ned  Ward  and  the  "  London  Spy  "—Selling  a  Horse- Dr.  Johnson— A  Lottery  Office 
—Lotteries  ;  Their  History  and  Romance— Praying  for  Luck— A  ;620,ooo  Prize— Lucky  Numbers— George  ;A.  Stevens— Gerarde,  the  old 
Herbalist,  and  his  Garden— The  Flying  Pieman  of  Holborn  Hill— An  old  Bellman  of  Holborn. 


Leaving  the  gates  of  Ely  Place  we  turn  west- 
wards, and  pursue  our  way  along  the  main 
thoroughfare  of  Holbom.  And,  to  begin,  let  us 
speak  of  the  divisions  of  this  street.  From  Far- 
ringdon  Street  to  Fetter  Lane  used  to  be  known  as 
Holborn  Hill ;  from  Fetter  Lane  to  Brooke  Street 
as  Holborn,  and  from  Brooke  Street  to  Drury  Lane 


as  High  Holborn.  Since  the  recent  alterations  and 
improvements,  Holbom  extends  from  Holbom 
Viaduct  to  Holbom  Bars,  and  High  Holborn  from 
the  Bars  to  Drury  Lane. 

One  of  the  first  great  improvements  effected  in 
Holbom  was  its  being  paved,  in  141 7,  at  the 
expense  of  Henry  V.,  when  the  highway,  we  learn 


HolbomJ 


POLLY  IN  TEARS. 


527 


from  Rymer's  "  Foedera,"  "  was  so  deep  and  miry 
that  many  perils  and  hazards  were  thereby  occa- 
sioned, as  well  to  the  king's  carriages  passing  that 
way  as  to  those  of  his  subjects." 

In  Holborn,  at  what  is  now  Farringdon  Street, 
there  was  of  old  a  stone  bridge  over  the  Fleet, 
called  "  Oldbourne  Bridge."  Stow  thus  describes 
this  locality : — "  Old  borne  or  Hilbome,  breaking  out 
about  the  place  where  now  the  Bars  do  stand,  and 
it  ran  down  the  whole  "street  till  Oldborne  Bridge, 
and  into  the  river  of  the  Wells  or  Tumemill  Brook. 
This  bourn  was  likewise  long  since  stopped  up  at 
the  head,  and  in  other  places  where  the  same  hath 
broken  out,  but  yet  till  this  day  the  said  street  is 
here  called  High  Oldborne  Hill,  and  both  the  sides 
thereof,  together  with  all  the  grounds  adjoining, 
that  lie  betwixt  it  and  the  river  of  Thames,  remain 
full  of  springs,  so  that  water  is  there  found  at  hand, 
and  hard  to  be  stopped  in  every  house." 

Agas's  map  of  London,  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth, 
represents  Holborn  as  a  very  different  sort  of  a 
place  from  what  it  is"  now.  All  the  ground  from 
Shoe  Lane  to  Chancery  Lane  was  then  gardens 
with  trees  and  shrubs ;  and  long  before  Agas's  day 
part  of  that  space  was  a  rural  region  belonging  to 
the  see  of  Bangor. 

Holborn  in  the  beginning  of  this  century  is 
described  by  Malcolm,  the  careful  compiler  of 
"  Londinium  Redivivum."  "  Holborn,"  he  says, 
writing  in  1803,  "is  an  irregular  long  street,  narrow 
and  inconvenient  at  the  north  end  of  Fleet  Market, 
but  widening  from  Shoe  Lane,  up  the  hill,  west- 
ward ;  thence  to  Middle  Row,  or  the  south  end  of 
Gra/s  Inn  Lane.  It  is  an  excellent  broad  and  dry 
place,  or  oblong  square."  In  the  additional  Act 
for  rebuilding  London,  1670,  it  was  enacted  "that 
the  passage  to  Holborn  Bridge  is  too  strait  and 
narrow,  incommodious  for  the  many  passengers 
daily  using  and  frequenting  the  same,  and  it  is 
therefore  necessary  to  be  enlarged  :  that  it  may  be 
lawful  for  the  Mayor,  &c.,  to  make  it  run  in  a  bevil 
line  from  a  certain  timber-house  on  the  north  side 
thereof,  named  the  Cock,  to  the  Swan  Inn,  on  the 
north  side  of  Hdlborn  Hill." 

Holborn  was  anciently  of  much  consequence, 
not  only  on  account  of  the  many  eminent  people 
who  resided  here,  but  because  of  the  Inns  of  Court, 
which  graced  both  its  north  and  south  sides. 
Besides,  it  contained  an  hospital  for  the  poor,  and 
a  cell  to  the  house  of  Clugny  in  France,  suppressed 
with  the  Priories  Alien. 

"Holborn  Bars"  used  to  stand  a  little  west  of 
Brooke  Street;  They  marked  the  termination  of 
the  City  Liberties  in  that  direction.  The  spot  is 
now  shown  by  two  granite  obelisks  bearing  the 


City  arms.  The  Corporation  of  London  formerly 
received  a  penny  and  two-penny  toll  from  the 
carts  and  carriages  of  non-freemen  entering  the 
City.  These  tolls  were  levied  at  the  six  bars,  in- 
cluding Holborn  Bars.  The  richest  inlets  were 
Temple  Bar  and  "Whitechapel  Bar. 

The  Middle  Row,  Holborn,  has  disappeared, 
like  the  Bars.  This  was  a  block  of  houses  which 
stood  half  blocking  up  the  street  at  the  south  end 
of  Gray's  Inn  Lane.  For  at  least  a  couple  of 
centuries  it  was  considered  an  obstruction.  Howel, 
in  his  "  Perlustration  of  London,"  1657  (p.  344), 
says  : — "  Southward  of  Gray's  Inn  Lane  there  is  a 
row  of  small  houses,  which  is  a  mighty  hindrance 
to  Holborn,  in  point  of  prospect,  which  if  they 
were  taken  down  there  would  be  from  Holborn 
Conduit  to  St.  Giles-in-the-Fields  one  of  the  fairest 
rising  streets  in  the  world."  The  obstructive  build- 
ings were  at  last  made  an  end  of  in  1868.  There  is 
a  view  of  the  old  Row  in  Faithorne's  ichnographical 
delineation  of  London  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I. 

Holborn  was  the  old  road  from  Newgate  and  the 
Tower  to  the  gallows  at  Tyburn.  At  regular  and 
frequent  intervals  both  sides  of  the  way  were  lined 
and  all  the  windows  were  covered  with  curious  and 
often  sympathising  spectators  to  see  light-fingered 
gentlemen,  murderers,  forgers,  and  such  like,  riding 
to  their  doom. 

"  Now  I  am  a  wretch  indeed,"  says  Polly,  in  the 
Beggars'  Opera,  alarmed  on  account  of  Captain  Mac- 
heath;  "methinks  I  see  him  already  in  the  cart, 
sweeter  and  more  lovely  than  the  nosegay" — which 
he  had  received  at  St.  Sepulchre's — "  in  his  hand  ! 
I  hear  the  crowd  extolling  his  resolution  and  intre- 
pidity !  What  volleys  of  sighs  are  sent  from  the 
windows  of  Holborn  that  so  comely  a  youth  should 
be  brought  to  disgrace !  I  see  him  at  the  tree  ! 
the  whole  circle  are  in  tears  !  even  butchers  weep  ! 
Jack  Ketch  himself  hesitates  to  perform  his  duty, 
and  would  be  glad  to  lose  his  fee  by  a  reprieve  I 
What  then  will  become  of  Polly  ?" 

Swift  gives  us  a  picture  of  an  execution  procession 
in  his  "  Clever  Tom  Clinch  going  to  be  hanged  :"— 

"  As  clever  Tom  Clinch,  while  the  rabble  was  bawling, 
Rode  stately  through  Holborn  to  die  in  his  calling, 
He  stopt  at  the  George  for  a  bottle  of  sack, 
And  promised  to  pay  for  it  when  he  came  back. 
His  waistcoat  and  stockings  and  breeches  were  white, 
His  cap  had  a  new  cherry  ribbon  to  tie  't. 
The  maids  to  the  doors  and  the  balconies  ran, 
And  said,  'Lack-a-day!  he's  a  proper  young  man ! ' 
But  as  from  the  windows  the  ladies  he  spied, 
Like  a  beau  in  the  box  he  bowed  low  on  each  side  I 
And  when  his  last  speech  the  loud  hawkers,  did  ct^i 

He  swore  from  his  cart,  '  It  was  all  a lie!' 

The  hangman  for  pardon  fell  down  on  his  knee, 
Tom  gave  him  a  kick — for  bis  fee : 


528 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


tHolbom. 


Ilolborn.] 


UP   HEAVY  HILL. 


529 


Then  said,  '  I  must  speak  to  the  people  a  little  ; 

But  I'll  see  you  all before  I  will  whittle. 

My  honest  friend  Wild  (may  he  long  hold  his  place !) 
He  lengthened  his  life  with  a  whole  year  of  grace. 
Take  courage,  dear  comrades,  and  be  not  afraid, 
Nor  slip  this  occasion  to  follow  your  trade; 


procession  ascending  it,  bound  for  Tyburn,  in  our 
old  authors  : — 

"  Sirrah,"  says  Sir  Sampson,  in  Congreve's  Love 
for  Love  (1695),  "  you'll  be  hanged ;  I  shall  live  to 
see  you  go  up  Holborn  Hill." 


STAIRCASE  IN   SOUTHAMPTON   HOUSE. 


My  conscience  is  clear,  and  my  spirits  are  calm, 
And  thus  I  go  off,  without  Prayer-book  or  Psalm  ; 
Then  follow  the  practice  of  clever  Tom  Clinch, 
Who  hung  like  a  hero  and  never  would  flinch." 

Holborn  Hill,  we  mentioned  in  a  previous  page, 
was  sometimes  known  as  "  Heavy  Hill."  To  speak 
of  any  one  having  the  privilege  of  riding  in  a 
cart  up  the  Heavy  Hill,  was  equivalent,  in  the  free 
and  easy  talk  of  our  forefathers,  to  sayiijg  that  he 
was  sure  to  be  hung. 

There  are  many  allusions  to  Heavy  Hill,  and  the 
03— Vol.  II. 


"  Daughter  Pad,"  says  Aldo,  in  Dryden's  Limber- 
ham  (1678),  "you  are  welcome.  What !  you  have 
performed  the  last  Christian  oiEce  to  your  keeper; 
I  saw  you  follow  him  up  the  Heavy  Hill  to 
Tyburn." 

And  in  Ben  Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair  we  have 
the  following : — 

"  Knockem :  What !  my  little  lean  Ursula  !  my  she-bear ! 
art  thou  alive  yet  with  thy  litter  of  pigs  to  grunt  out  another 
Bartholomew  Fair?  ha! 

Ursula  1  Yes,  and   to  amble  a-foot,  when  the  Fair  is 


53° 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[Holbom, 


done;    to   hear   you  groan   out   of    a   cart   up   the   Heavy 

Hill 

Knockem:  Of  Holbom,  Ursula,  mean'st  thou  so?" 

It  is  told  in  Tom  Brown's  works  that  an  old 
counsellor  who  lived  in  Holborn  used  every  execu- 
tion-day to  give  his  clerks  a  half-holiday,  sending 
them  to  see  the  show,  and  giving  them  this  piece 
of  advice:  "Go,  ye  young  rogues,  go  to  school, 
and  improve  !" 

The  Holborn  line  of  road  was  selected  for  the 
cruel  whippings  which  Titus  Oates  and  Danger- 
field  had  to  suffer,  in  the  reign  of  James  II.  Titus 
Oates,  as  every  one  knows,  was  the  chief  informer 
in  what  was  called  the  Popish  plot;  a  plot,  as 
he  pretended  to  prove,  that  was  promoted  for  the 
destruction  of  the  Protestant  religion  in  England. 
Several  persons  of  quality  were  tried  and  executed 
chiefly  on  his  evidence,  and  Oates,  in  return  for 
his  kind  and  timely  information,  received  a  pension 
of  ;^i,2oo  a  year,  and  was  lodged  in  Whitehall. 
Scarcely,  however,  had  King  James  II.  ascended 
{he  throne,  than  he  was  cast  into  prison,  .and  tried 
for  perjury  with  respect  to  what  he  had  asserted 
regarding  the  alleged  plot.  Being  convicted,  he 
was  sentenced  to  stand  in  the  pillory  five  times  a 
year  during  his  life,  to  be  whipped  from  Aldgate 
to  Newgate,  and  from  thence  to  Tyburn;  which 
sentence,  says  Neal,  was  exercised'  with  a  severity 
unknown  to  the  English  nation.  "  The  impudence 
of  the  man,"  says  the  historian  Hume,  "supported 
itself  under  the  conviction,  and  his  courage  under 
the  punishment.  He  made  solemn  appeals  to 
I  Heaven,  and  protestations  of  the  veracity  of  his 
testimony.  Though  the  whipping  was  so  cruel 
that  it  was  evidently  the  intention  of  the  Court  to 
put  him  to  death  by  that  punishment,  yet  he  was 
enabled,  by  the  care  of  his  friends,  to  recover,  and 
he  lived  to  King  William's  reign,  when  a  pension 
of  ;^4oo  a  year  was  settled  upon  him.  A  con- 
siderable number  of  persons  adhered  to  him  in  his 
distress,  and  regarded  him  as  a  martyr  to  the  Pro- 
testant cause."  He  died  in  1705.  Hume  de- 
scribes him  as  the  most  infamous  of  mankind,  and 
tells  us  that  in  early  life  he  had  been  chaplain  to 
Colonel  Pride,  and  that  he  was  afterwards  chaplain 
on  board  the  fleet,  whence  he  had  been  igno- 
miniously  dismissed.  He  then  became  a  convert 
to  the  Roman  Catholics,  but  used  to  boast  in 
after  years  that  his  conversion  was  a  mere  pre- 
tence, which  he  made  in  order  to  get  into  their 
secrets  and  betray  them. 

The  gentle  Evelyn  saw  the  Holborn  part  of 
Oates'  punishment  inflicted.  He  has  this  entry  in 
his  "  Diary,"  on  the  22nd  of  May,  1685  :  «  Oates, 
who  had  but  two   days  before  been   pilloped  at 


several  places,  and  whipped  at  the  cart's  tail  from 
Newgate  tp  Aldgate,  was  this  day  placed  on  a 
sledge,  being  not  able  to  go,  by  reason  of  so  late 
scourging,  and  dragged  from  prison  to  Tyburn,  and 
whipped  again  all  the  way,  which  some  thought 
to  be  very  severe  and  extraordinary :  but  if  he  was 
guilty  of  the  perjuries,  and  so  of  the  death  of  so 
many  innocents,  as  I  fear  he  was,  his  punishment 
was  but  what  he  deserved.  I  chanced  to  pass  just 
as  execution  was  doing  on  him — a  strange  revolu- 
tion." 

Dangerfield,  who  had  been  the  inventor  of  the 
"  Meal-Tub  Plot,''  was  condemned,  in  the  same 
year,  to  about  as  severe  a  punishment  as  Oates. 
He  was  ordered  to  stand  twice  in  the  pillory ;  to 
be  whipped  from  Aldgate  to  Newgate  on  one  day, 
and  from  Newgate  to  Tyburn  on  another;  and 
to  pay  a  fine  of  ;^5oo.  He  was  not  made  of 
such  tough  material  as  his  brother  scoundrel,  Oates. 
He  "was  strack  with  such  horror  at  this  terrible 
sentence,  that  he  looked  upon  himself  as  a  dead 
man,  and  accordingly  chose  a  text  for  his  funeral 
sermon,  but  persevered  in  asserting  that  all  he  had 
delivered  in  evidence  before  the  House  of  Com- 
mons was  true.  The  whipping  was  executed  with 
full  rigour,  as  before  upon  Oates,  and  was  scarce 
over  before  one  Mr.  Robert  Frances,  a  barrister,  of 
Gray's  Inn,  gave  him  a  wound  with  his  cane  in  or 
near  the  eye,  which,  according  to  the  deposition  of 
the  surgeon,  was  the  cause  of  his  death."  This 
furious  barrister,  Mr.  Frances,  was  consequently 
tried  for  the  murder,  and  as  it  was  found  that  the 
popular  feeling  was  very  violent  against  him,  it 
was  judged  a  politic  proceeding  to  permit  his  con- 
viction and  execution. 

So  much  for  general  observations  upon  Holbom- 
The  first  object  which  catches  the  eye  as  we  look 
about  for  particulars  on  which  to  comment,  is  the 
statue  erected  to  the  memory  of  the  late  Prince 
Consort  in  Holbom  Circus.  This  statue  was  un- 
veiled on  Friday,  the  9th  of  January,  1874.  It  is 
a  gift  from  a  patriotic  gentleman,  who  desires  to 
remain  unknown,  to  the  Corporation  of  London. 
The  prince  is  represented  as  responding  to  a  salute. 
The  pedestal,  which  is  composed  of  stones  weighing 
two  to  ten  tons  each,  includes  two  sitting  figures 
illustrating  History  and  Peace,  and  bas-reliefs  illus- 
trating important  events  in  Prince  Albert's  life. 
The  statue  is  the  work  of  Mr.  Bacon.  The 
pedestal  is  the  joint  design  of  the  sculptor  and 
Mr.  William  Haywood. 

We  must  not  forget  to  speak  of  an  inn  called 
the  "Rose,"  which  stood  formerly  on  Holbom 
Hill,  and  only  disappeared  within  the  recollection 
of  the  present  generation.      From  it  Taylor  the 


Holbom.] 


LORD   ELDON'S  FIRST  PERCH. 


531 


water-poet  started  in  the  Southampton  coach  for 
the  Isle  of  Wight  on  the  19th  of  October,  1647, 
while  Charles  I.  was  there. 

"  We  took  one  coach,  two  coachmen,  and  four  horses. 
And  merrily  from  London  made  our  courses, 
We  wheeled  the  top  of  the  heavy  hill  called  Holbom 
(Up  which  hath  been  full  many  a  sinful  soul  borne). 
And  so  along  we  jolted  past  St.  Giles's, 
Which  place  from  Brentford  six  or  seven  miles  is." 

So  says  Taylor  in  the  beginning  of  his  "  Travels 
from  London  to  the  Isle  of  Wight." 

Union  Court,  situated  over  against  St.  Andrew's 
Chiu:ch,  was  originally  called  Scroop's  Court.  It 
derived  this  name  from  the  noble  family  of  Scrope 
of  Bolton,  who  had  a  town  house  here,  which  was 
afterwards  let  to  the  serjeants-at-law.  It  ceased,  it 
is  said,  to  be  a  Serjeants'  inn  about  the  year  1498. 

Bartlett's  Buildings,  on  the  south  side  of  Holbom, 
is  described  by  Strype  as  "  a  very  handsome  place, 
graced  with  good  buildings  of  brick,  with  gardens 
behind  the  houses,"  and  he  adds,  that  it  is  a  region 
"very  well  inhabited  by  gentry,  and  persons  of 
good  repute.''  Were  Strype  to  come  alive  again, 
he  would  not  recognise  the  locality.  Bartlett's 
Buildings  is  mentioned  in  the  burial  register  of 
St.  Andrew's  (the  parish  in  which  it  lies)  as  far 
back,  as  November,  1615,  and  it  is  there  called 
Bartlett's  Court. 

We  read  in  Thoresby's  Diary,  "13th  May,  17 14. — 
At  the  meeting  of  the  Royal  Society,  where  was 
Sir  Isaac  Newton,  the  president.  I  met  there,  also, 
with  several  of  my  old  friends,  Dr.  Sloane,  Dr. 
Halley,  &c.  But  I  left  all  to  go  with  Mr.  Cham- 
berlayn  to  Bartlett's  Buildings,  to  the  other  society, 
viz.,  that  for  promoting  Christian  Knowledge,  which 
is  to  be  preferred  to  all  other  learning." 

In  Dyers'  Buildings,  the  site  of  some  almshouses 
of  the  Dyers'  Company,  lived  William  Roscoe,  when 
he  published  his  edition  of  Pope's  Works,  with 
notes  and  a  life  of  the  poet,  10  vols.  8vo,  1824. 
One  of  the  principal  objects  of  this  new  edition  was 
to  give  a  fuller  and  more  accurate  life  of  the  poet 
than  had  yet  appeared.  Of  the  various  biographical 
notices  of  him,  it  is  not  unjust  to  say  that  there  was 
not  one  worthy  of  the  subject.  The  Quarterly 
-Review  (October,  1825),  in  summing  up  the  merits 
of  Mr.  Roscoe's  work,  says,  "  His  original  criticism 
is  not  much,  but  is  enlightened  and  liberal;  and  the 
candour  with  which  that  and  the  life  are  written,  is 
quite  refreshing  after  the  blighting  perversity  of  the 
preceding  editors,  whose  misrepresentations  and 
calumnies  he  has  industriously  examined  and 
patiently  refuted,  with  a  lucid  arrangement  both  of 
facts  and  arguments." 

At  the  corner  of  Furnival's  Inn,  on  the  opi)osite 


side  of  the  street  from  Dyers'  Buildings,  Edward 
Kidder,  the  famous  pastry-cook,  had  a  school.  He 
had  another  establishment  in  St.  Martin's-le-Grand, 
and  in  these  two  places  is  said  to  have  taught,  from 
first  to  last,  nearly  sk  thousand  ladies  the  delight- 
ful art  of  making  pastry.  Kidder  published  his 
receipts,  engraved  on  copper,  in  a  thin  8vo  volume, 
with  his  portrait  as  a  frontispiece.  He  died  in 
April,  1739,  in  his  seventy-third  year.  His  book  is 
somewhat  dull  reading,  being  unenlivened  by  any 
of  those  touches  of  fancy  and  eccentricity  which 
make  a  work  like  Dr.  Kitchener's  "  Cook's  Oracle  " 
so  delightful  to  spend  half  an  hour  over. 

And  now  crossing  the  street  again  we  come  to 
Castle  Street,  which  runs  from  Holbom  into 
Cursitor  Street.  Its  proper  name  is  Castle  Yard, 
perhaps  from  the  name  of  Castle  Inn,  on  the  site  of 
which  it  is  built.  Lord  Arundel,  the  great  collector 
of  art  and  antiquities,  was  living  in  1619-20  in 
"  Castle  Yard,  in  Holborn."  And  here  died  Lady 
Davenant,  the  first  wife  of  Sir  William  Davenant, 
the  poet. 

And  having  by  Castle  Street  reached  Cursitor 
Street,  we  may  as  well  say  a  little  about  it,  having 
omitted  to  do  so  in  the  beginning  of  our  pilgrimage 
when  speaking  of  Chancery  Lane,  of  which  it  is  a 
tributary.  It  is  named  after  the  Cursitor's  Office 
or  Inn,  founded  by  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  Lord 
Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal  of  England,  and  father  of 
the  famous  Lord  Bacon.  Stow,  speaking  of 
Chancery  Lane,  says,  "  In  this  street  the  first  fair 
building  to  be  noted  on  the  east  side  is  called  the 
Cursitor's  Office  :  built  with  divers  fair  lodgings  for 
gentlemen,  all  of  brick  and  timber,  by  Sir  Nicholas 
Bacon,  late  Lord  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal."  Cursi- 
tor is  said  to  be  a  corruption  of  chorister,  and  this 
seemeth  the  more  probable,  because  "  anciently  all 
or  the  most  part  of  the  officers  and  ministers  of 
Chancery,  or  Court  of  Conscience  (for  so  the  Chan- 
cery hath  been  called)  were  churchmen,  divines, 
and  canonists."  The  business  of  the  Cursitors  is  to 
make  out  and  issue  writs  in  the  name  of  the  Court 
of  Chancery. 

When  passing  once  through  Cursitor  Street  with 
his  secretary,  Lord  Chancellor  Eldon  said  :  "  Here 
was  my  first  perch ;  how  often  have  I  run  down  to  , 
Fleet  Market  with  sixpence  in  my  hand  to  buy 
sprats  for  supper." 

It  was  here  he  lived  with  that  pretty  young  wiffe 
whom  he  married  so  imprudently,  though  he  used 
in  after  life  to  reflect  upon  the  step  as  one  of  the 
most  fortunate  of  his  early  career.  "  The  romance 
of  the  law,"  says  Mr.  Jeaffi-eson,  "  contains  few  more 
pleasant  episodes  than  the  story  of  the  elopement 
of  Jack  Scott  (afterwards  Lord  Eldon)  with  Bessie 


532 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbom. 


Siirtees.  There  is  no  need  to  tell  in  detail  how  the 
comely  Oxford  scholar  danced  with  the  banker's 
daughter  at  the  Newcastle  assemblies ;  how  his  suit 
was  at  first  recognised  by  the  girl's  parents,  although 
the  Scotts  were  but  rich  '  fitters,'  whereas  Aubone 
Surtees,  Esquire,  was  a  banker  and  gentleman  of 
honourable  descent ;  how,  on  the  appearance  of  an 
aged  and  patrician  suitor  for  Bessie's  hand,  papa 
and  mamma  told  Jack  Scott  not  to  presume  on 
their  condescension,  and  counselled  Bessie  to  throw 
her  lover  over,  and  become  the  lady  of  Sir  William 
Blackett;  how  Bessie  was  faithful  and  Jack  was 
urgent ;  how  they  had  secret  interviews  on  Tyne- 
side  and  in  London,  meeting  clandestinely  on 
horseback  and  on  foot,  corresponding  privately  by 
letters  and  confidential  messengers ;  how,  eventually, 
the  lovers,  to  the  consternation  of '  good  society '  in 
Newcastle,  were  made  husband  and  wife  at  Black- 
shiels,  North  Britain.  Who  is  ignorant  of  the 
story  ?  Does  not  every  visitor  to  Newcastle  pause 
before  an  old  house  in  Sandhill,  and  look  up  at 
the  blue  pane  which  marks  the  window  from  which 
Bessie  descended  into  her  lover's  arms?"  After  a 
short  residence  at  Oxford,  the  future  Lord  Eldon 
naturally  came  (as  mostly  all  talent  does  come) 
to  London,  and  estabUshed  himself  in  a  humble 
little  house  in  Cursitor  Street.  The  pretty  wife 
made  it  cheerful  for  him.  He  had  in  after  life  to 
regret  her  peculiarities,  her  stinginess,  and  her 
nervous  repugnance  to  society ;  but  he  remained 
devoted  in  his  attachment.  •  "  Poor  Bessie  !"  he 
said,  in  his  old  age,  after  she  was  dead ;  "  if  ever 
there  was  an  angel  on  earth,  she  was  one.  The 
only  reparation  which  one  man  can  make  to 
another  for  running  away  with  his  daughter,  is  to 
be  exemplary  in  his  conduct  towards  her." 

Returning  to  Holborp  and  proceeding  west- 
ward, we  come  to  Southampton  Buildings,  built 
on  the  site  of  Southampton  House.  They  lie  on 
the  south  side  of  Holbom,  a  little  above  Holbom 
Bars.  Speaking  of  the  old  mansion-house,  Peter 
Cunningham,  in  1849,  remarked  that  fragments 
still  remained  in  his  day.  He  was  shown,  in  1847, 
what  was  still  called  "  the  chapel"  of  the  house,  a 
building  with  rubble  walls  and  a  flat  timbered  roof. 
The  occupant  also  told  him  that  his  father  remem- 
bered a  pulpit  in  the  chapel,  and  that  he  himself, 
when  forming  the  foundation  of  a  workshop  ad- 
joining, had  seen  portions  of  a  circular  building 
which  he  supposed  to  be  part  of  the  old  temple 
mentioned  in  a  passage  from  Stow,  which  we  shall 
make  the  subject  of  the  following  paragraphs  : — 

"  Beyond  the  Bars  [Holbom  Bars],"  says  Stow, 
"  had  ye  in  old  time  a  temple  built  by  the  Templars, 
whose  order  first  began  in  11 18,  in  the  nineteenth 


of  Henry  I.  This  temple  was  left  and  fell  to  ruin 
since  the  year  1 184,  when  the  Templars  had  builded 
them  a  new  Temple  in  Fleet  Street,  near  to  the 
river  of  Thames.  A  great  part  of  this  old  temple 
was  pulled  down  but  of  late,  in  the  year  1595. 

"Adjoining  to  this  old  temple  was  some  time 
the  Bishop  of  Lincoln's  inn,  wherein  he  lodged 
when  he  repaired  to  this  city.  Robert  de  Curars, 
Bishop  of  Lincoln,  built  it  about  the  year  1147. 
John  Russell,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  Chancellor  of 
England  in  the  reign  of  Richard  III.,  was  lodged 
there.  It  hath  of  late  years  belonged  to  the  Earl 
of  Southampton,  and  therefore  called  Southampton 
House.  Master  Roper  hath  of  late  much  built 
there,  by  means  whereof  part  of  the  ruins  of  the 
old  temple  are  seen  to  remain,  built  of  Caen  stone, 
round  in  form  as  the  new  Temple  by  Temple  Bar, 
and  other  temples  in  England." 

We  must  not  forget  that  in  Southampton  House, 
Thomas,  the  last  Earl  of  Southampton,  the  faithful 
and  virtuous  servant  of  Charles  I.,  and  Lord  Trea- 
surer in  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Charles  II., 
ended  his  days.  Pennant,  the  historian,  when  he 
comes  to  this  point  in  his  "  Account  of  London,'' 
writes  with  all  the  pathos  of  an  honest  and  feeling 
heart.  "He  died,"  he  says,  "in  1667,  barely  in 
possession  of  the  white  rod,  which  his  profligate 
enemies  were  with  difficulty  dissuaded  from  wresting 
out  of  his  dying  hands.  He  had  the  happiness  of 
marrying  his  daughter  and  heiress  to  a  nobleman 
of  congenial  merit,  the  ill-fated  I^ord  Russell. 
Her  virtues  underwent  a  fiery  trial,  and  came  out  of 
the  test  if  possible  more  pure.  I  cannot  read  of 
her  last  interviews  with  her  devoted  lord  without 
the  strongest  emotions.  Her  greatness  of  mind 
appears  to  uncommon  advantage.  The  last  scene 
is  beyond  the  power  of  either  pen  or  pencil.  In 
this  house  they  lived  many  years.  When  his  lord- 
ship passed  by  it,  on  the  way  to  execution,  he  felt 
a  momentary  bitterness  of  death  in  recollecting  the 
happy  moments  of  the  place.  He  looked  towards 
Southampton  House,  the  tear  started  into  his  eye, 
but  he  instantly  wiped  it  away." 

Southampton  House  was  taken  down  and  private 
tenements  erected  on  the  site  in  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  Howel,  writing  in  1657, 
mentioning  this  fact,  breaks  out  in  his  quaint  way : 
"  If  any  one  should  ask  what  the  Almighty  doth 
now  in  London,  he  might  (as  the  pulse  of  the  times 
beats)  give  the  same  answer  that  was  given  by  the 
pagan  philosopher,  who,  being  demanded  what 
Jupiter  did  in  heaven,  he  said, '  Jupiter  breaks  great 
vessels,  and  makes  small  ones  of  their  pieces.' " 

In  Southampton  Buildings,  in  the  house  of  a 
relative,  Ludlow,   the  Parliamentary  general,  lay 


Holborn.] 


EARLY  COFFEE-HOUSES. 


533 


concealed  from  the  Restoration  till  the  period  of 
his  escape.  And  a  very  narrow  escape  it  was. 
When  the  proclamation  was  issued  by  Charles  II., 
requiring  all  the  late  king's  judges  to  surrender 
themselves  in  fourteen  days,  on  pain  of  being  left 
out  of  the  act  of  indemnity,  he  determined  to  fly 
the  country.  He  bade  farewell  to  his  friends, 
and  went  over  London  Bridge  in  a  coach  to  St. 
George's  Church  in  the  borough  of  Southwark, 
where  he  took  horse,  and  travelling  all  night, 
arrived  at  Lewes,  in  Sussex,  by  break  of  day  next 
morning.  Soon  after,  he  went  on  board  a  small 
open  vessel  prepared  for  him;  but  the  weather 
being  very  bad,  he  quitted  that,  and  took  shelter 
in  a  larger  which  had  been  got  ready,  but  it  stuck 
in  the  sands  going  down  the  river.  He  had  hardly 
got  on  board  this,  when  some  persons  came  to 
search  that  which  he  had  just  left.  After  waiting  a 
night  and  a  day  for  the  storm  to  abate  (during 
which  time  the  master  of  the  vessel  asked  him 
whether  he  had  heard  that  Lieutenant-General 
Ludlow  was  confined  among  the  rest  of  the  king's 
judges),  he  put  to  sea,  and  landed  at  Dieppe  in  the 
evening,  before  the  gates  were  shut.  Having  thus 
got  him  out  of  the  reach  of  danger,  we  shall  leave 
himj  only  waiting  to  tell  the  reader  that  he  died  at 
Vevay,  in  Switzerland,  in  1693,  his  last  wishes 
being  for  the  prosperity,  peace,  and  glory  of  his 
country. 

One  of  the  early  coffee-houses  of  London  was 
established  in  Southampton  Buildings.  In  the 
autobiography  of  Anthony  h  Wood  (ii.  65)  we  come 
upon  the  following  passage  in  connection  with  the 
year  1650:— "This  year  Jacob,  a  Jew,  opened  a 
coifey-house  at  the  Angel  in  the  parish  of  St.  Peter, 
in  the  East  Oxon,  and  there  it  was  by  some,  who 
delighted  in  noveltie,  drank.  When  he  left  Oxon, 
he  sold  it  in  old  Southampton  Buildings,  in  Hol- 
bome,near  London,  and  was  living  there  in  1671." 

When  coffee  was  first  introduced  into  England, 
about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the 
new  beverage,  as  was  to  be  expected,  had  its 
opponents  as  well  as  its  advocates.  There  were 
broadsides  against  coffee,  just  as  there  had  been 
counterblasts  against  tobacco ;  but  in  spite  of  oppo- 
sition it  became  a  favourite  drink,  and  the  shops 
where  it  was  sold  grew  to  be  places  of  general 
resort.  They  were  frequented  by  quidnuncs,  and 
were  the  great  marts  for  news  of  all  kinds,  true 

In  167s,  a  paternal  Government  issued  a  pro- 
clamation for  shutting  up  and  suppressing  all  coffee- 
houses They  found,  however,  that  m  makmg  this 
proclamation  they  had  gone  a  step  too  far.  So  early 
as  this  period  the  coffee-house  had  become  a  power 


in  the  land — as  Macaulay  tells  us — a  most  im- 
portant political  institution,  when  public  meetings, 
harangues,  resolutions,  and  the  rest  of  the  machinery 
of  agitation,  had  not  come  into  fashion,  and  nothing 
like  a  newspaper  existed.  In  such  circumstances 
the  coffee-houses'  were  the  chief  organs  through 
which  the  public  opinion  of  the  metropolis  vented 
itself  Consequently,  oh  a  petition  of  the  merchants 
and  retailers  of  coffee,  permission  was  granted  to 
keep  the  coffee-houses  open  for  six  months,  under 
an  adnionition  that  the  masters-  of  them,  should 
prevent  all  scandalous  papers,  books,  and  libels 
from  being  read  in  them,  and  hinder  every  person 
from  declaring,  uttering,  or  divulging  all  manner  of 
false  and  scandalous  reports  against  Government  or 
the  ministers  thereof.  The  absurdity  of  constitu- 
ting every  maker  of  a  cup  of  coffee  a  censor  of  the 
press  was  too  great  even  for  those  days  :  the  pro- 
clamation was  laughed  at,  and  no  more  was  heard 
of  the  suppression  of  coffee-houses. 

Dr.  Birkbeck,  in  1823,  founded  a  Mechanics'^ 
Institution  in  Southampton  Buildings,  for  the  dis- , 
semination  of  useful  knowledge  among  the  indus- 1 
trious  classes  of  the  community,  by  means  of 
lectures,  classes,  and  a  library. 

"  In  inquiring,"  says  a  writer  from  whom  we , 
have  already  quoted,  "  into  the  origin  of  that  move- 
ment for  popular  instruction  which  has  occupied  so 
broad  a  space  during  this  century,  we  are  met  by 
the  name  of  George  Birkbeck  standing  out  in  con- 
spicuous characters.  The  son  of  a  banker  at  Settle, 
in  Yorkshire,  and  reared  as  a  medical  practitioner, 
he  was  induced  at  an  eariy  period  of  Hfe  to  accept 
a  professorship  in  what  was  called  the  Andersonian 
Institution  of  Glasgow,  a  kind  of  popular  university 
which  had  just  then  started  into  being.  Here 
Birkbeck  found  great  difficulty  in  getting  apparatus 
made  for  a  course  of  lectures  on  Natural  and  Expe- 
rimental Philosophy ;  and  this  suggested  to  him 
the  estabHshment  of  popular  lectures  to  working 
men,  with  a  view  to  the  spread  of  knowledge  in 
various  matters  relating  to  the  application  of  science 
to  the  practical  arts.  This  was  the  germ  from  \ 
which  Mechanics'  Institutions  afterwards  sprung. 
The  trustees  of  the  Andersonian  Institution  had  not 
Birkbeck's  enthusiasm;  they  deemed  the  scheme 
visionary,  and  refused  at  first  to  support  it.  In  the 
autumn  of  1800  he  went  to  Yorkshire  for  a  vacation, 
and  there  digested  a  plan  for  forming  a  class  solely 
for  persons  engaged  in  the  practical  exercise  of  the 
mechanical  arts,  men  whose  education  in  early  life 
had  precluded  even  the  possibihty  of  acquiring  the 
smallest  portion  of  scientific  knowledge.  This 
mechanics'  class  was  to  be  held  in  one  of  the  rooms 
of  the  Andersonian  Institution. 


534 


OLD  AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[Holbom. 


"  On  his  return  to  Glasgow,  he  opened  communi- 
cations with  the  chief  owners  of  manufacturing 
estabhshments,  offering  t6  the  more  intelligent 
workmen  free  admission  to  his  class.  The  first 
lecture  was  attended  by  seventy-five  artisans;  it 
excited  so  much  interest,  that  two  hundred  came 
to  the  second  lecture,  three  hundred  to  the  third, 
and  five  hundred  to  the  fourth.  His  grateful  pupils 
presented  him  with  a  silver  cup. at  the  close  of  the 
course,  as  a  token  of  their  appreciation  of  his  dis- 
interested kindness.      He  repeated  these  labours 


1821a  School  of  Arts  was  established  in  Edinburgh, 
chiefly  through  the  instrumentality  of  Mr.  Leonard 
Homer.  In  1823  a  Mechanics'  Institution  was 
founded  at  Glasgow,  and  another  in  London,  of 
which  last  Dr.  Birkbeck  was  very  appropriately 
elected  president,  an  office  he  filled  till  his  death, 
eighteen  years  afterwards. 

"On  the  2nd  of  December,  1824,  being  the 
first  anniversary  of  the  formation  of  the  London 
Mechanics'  Institution,  the  foundation-stone  was 
laid  of  an  edifice  to  be  used  as  a  theatre  for  deliver- 


ROOM  OP  A  HOUSE  IN  fulwood's  RENTS.     {After  Archer.) 


year  after  year  till-  1804,  when  he  resigned  his 
position  at  Glasgow  to  Dr.  Ure,  who,  like  him,  was  at 
that  time  struggling  into  fame.  Birkbeck  married, 
came  to  London,  and  settled  down  as  a  physician. 
"  Many  years  elapsed  during  which  Dr.  Birkbeck 
was  wholly  absorbed  in  his  professional  duties. 
He  did  not,  however,  forget  his  early  schemes,  and 
as  he  advanced  in  life,  he  found  or  made  oppor- 
tunities for  developing  them.  In  1820  he  gave 
a  gratuitous  course  of  lectures  at  the  London 
Institution.  Gradually  a  wish  spread  in  various 
quarters  to  put  in  operation  the  plan  which  had  so 
long  occupied  the  thoughts  of  Dr.  Birkbeck — ^viz., 
to  give  instruction  in  science  to  working  men.     In 


ing  the  lectures  of  the  professors,  on  the  premises 
occupied  by  the  Institution  in  Southampton  Build- 
ings. The  newly-established  concern  was  at  first 
highly  successful.  Men  of  great  attainments  offered 
their  services  as  lecturers,  and  the  lecture-hall 
very  often  contained  a  thousand  persons  listen- 
ing with  the  greatest  attention  to  discourses  on 
astronomy,  experimental  philosophy,  chemistry, 
physiology,  the  steam-engine,  &c.  Many  persons 
who  afterwards  attained  to  a  more  or  less  distin- 
guished position  in  society,  owed  their  first  know- 
ledge of  the  principles  of  science  to  the  London 
Mechanics'  Lnstitution.  The  novelty  and  success 
of  the  enterprise  were  so  great  that  similar  institu- 


Holbom.} 


DR.   BIRKBECK. 


S3S 


536 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


LHolbom, 


tions  sprung  up  rapidly  in  various  parts   of  the 
kingdom." 

When  the  first  enthusiasm  wore  off,  Mechanics' 
Institutions  hardly  realised,  perhaps,  the  expecta- 
tions of  their  founders.  The  reasons  for  this  have 
been  thus  set  down  by  a  careful  observer : — "  In 
large  towns,"  he  says,  "  the  energy  and  enthusiasm 
that  originated  them  carried  them  on  for  a  time ; 
but  as  the  novelty  wore  off  the  members  and 
revenue  decreased,  modifications  of  plan  had  to 
be  adopted,  new  features  introduced,  and  radical 
changes  made.  If  these  proved  acceptable  to  the 
public,  the  institution  flourished ;  if  not,  it  decayed. 
If  the  original  idea  of  giving  scientific  education 
only  were  strictly  carried  out,  the  number  of 
members  was  small,  while,  if  amusement  took  the 
place  of  study,  the  institution  lived  in  jeopardy 
from  the  fickle  and  changing  taste  for  amusement 
on  the  part  of  the  public." 

The  Mechanics'  Institution  in  Southampton 
Buildings  has  now  departed  considerably  from  the 
design  of  the  founder,  and  flourishes  under  the  title 
of  the  Birkbeck  Literary  and  Scientific  Institution. 
A  well  by  which  wonderful  curei  were  efiected, 
both  on  the  blind  and  the  lame,  was  discovered  in 
1649  near  Southampton  House.  It  was  known  as 
the  Soldier's  Well,  the  finder  having  been  of  the 
military  profession,  and  is  mentioned  in  "  Perfect 
Occurrences  from  August  24th  to  August  31st, 
1649." 

Fulwood's  Rents,  commonly  called  Fuller's  Rents, 
in  Holborn,  is  a  narrow-paved  court  nearly  opposite 
the  end  of  Chancery  Lane.  It  leads  into  Gray's 
Inn  Walks,  Gray's  Inn  Gardens.  Strype,  in  1720, 
describes  it  thus  : — "  Fulwood's  Rents,  opposite  to 
Chancery  Lane,  runneth  up  to  Gray's  Inn,  into 
which  it  hath  an  entrance,  through  the  gate ;  a 
place  of  a  good  resort,  and  taken  up  by  cofiee- 
houses,  ale-houses,  and  houses  of  entertainment, 
by  reason  of  its  vicinity  to  Gray's  Inn.  On  the 
east  side  is  a  handsome  open  place,  with  a  free- 
stone pavement,  and  better  built,  and  inhabited  by 
private  housekeepers.  At  the  upper  end  of  this 
court  is  a  passage  into  the  Castle  Tavern,  a  house 
of  considerable  trade,  as  is  the  Golden  Griffin 
Tavern,  on  the  west  side,  which  also  hath  a  passage 
into  Fulwood's  Rents." 

Here  stood  "  John's,"  one  of  the  earliest  coflee- 
houses.  "When  coffee  first  came  in  (circ.  1656)," 
says  Aubrey,  in  his  "Lives,"  "he  (Sir  Henry 
Blount)  was  a  great  upholder  of  it,  and  hath  ever 
since  been  a  constant  frequenter  of  coffee-houses, 
especially  Mr.  Farre's,  at  the  Rainbow,  by  Inner 
Temple-gate,  and  lately  John's  Coffee-house,  in 
Fuller's  Rents." 


Adjoining  Gray's  Inn  Gate,  on  the  west  side,  was 
Squire's  Coffee-house,  from  whence  several  of  the 
Spectators  are  dated. 

Ned  Ward,  the  author  of  the  "London  Spy,"  kept 
a  punch-house  within  one  door  of  Gray's  Inn,  and 
here  he  died,  in  the  year  1731.  This  writer,  whom, 
in  the  course  of  our  rambles  through  Old  London, 
we  have  already  several  times  quoted,  was  of  low 
extraction,  and  born  in  Oxfordshire,  about  1667. 
His  residence  was  not  always  in  Fulwood's  Rents, 
for  we  find  him  living  a  while  in  Gray's  Inn,  then, 
for  some  years  after,  keeping  a  public-house  in 
Moorfields,  and  after  that  in  Clerkenwell.  In  his 
last  establishment,  off  Holborn,  he  would  entertain 
any  company  \vho  invited  him  with  stories  and 
adventures  of  the  poets  and  authors  he  was  ac- 
quainted with.  Pope  honoured  him  with  a  place 
in  the  "  Dunciad,''  but  Ward  took  his  revenge,  and 
retorted  with  some  spirit.  He  died  on  the  20th  of 
June,  1731,  and,  on  the  27th  of  the  same  month, 
was  interred  in  St.  Pancras  Churchyard,  with  one 
mourning  coach  for  his  wife  and  daughter  to 
attend  the  hearse,  as  he  had  himself  directed  in 
a  poetical  will,  written  by  him  on  the  24th  of  June, 
1725.  Ward  is  best  known  by  his  "London 
Spy,"  a  coarse  production,  but,  in  some  respects, 
a  true  representation  of  the  metropolitan  manners 
of  his  day. 

The  "  Castle  Tavern,''  of  which  Strype  makes 
mention,  was  kept  for  many  years  by  Thomas 
Winter,  better  known  as  "Tom  Spring,"  the  pugilist, 
who  died  here  on  the  20th  of  August,  1851. 

A  curious  gabled  and  projecting  house,  of  the 
time  of  James  I.,  stands  about  the  centre  of  the 
east  side  of  Fulwood's  Rents.  A  ground-floor 
room  of  this  house  is  engraved  by  Mr.  Archer, 
in  his  "Vestiges  of  Old  London,"  and  is  given 
by  us  on  page  534.  The  apartment  was  en- 
tirely panelled  with  oak,  the  mantelpiece  being 
carved  in  the  same  wood,  with  caryatides  and 
arched  niches ;  the  ceiling-beams  were  carved  in 
panels,  and  the  entire  room  was  original,  with 
the  exception  of  the  window.  On  the  first  floor, 
a  larger  room  contained  another  carved  mantel- 
piece, of  very  florid  construction.  The  front  of 
the  house  is  said  to  be  covered  with  ornament, 
now  concealed  by  plaster. 

In  the  "Banquet  of  Jests"  (1639)  we  find  men- 
tion made  of  a  tavern  near  this,  called  the  "Sun  :" 
— "A  pleasant  fellow,  willing  to  put  off  a  lame 
horse,  rode  him  from  the  '  Sunne  Tavern,'  within 
Cripplegate,  to  the  'Sunne'  in  Holborn,  neere  the 
Fuller's  Rents ;  and  the  next  day  oflfering  to  sell 
him  in  Smithfield,  the  buyer  asking  him  why  he 
looked  so  leane, '  Marry,  no  marvell,'  answered  he, 


Holbom.] 


CURIOSITIES    OF    LOTTERIES. 


537 


'  for  but  yesterday  I  rid  him  from  sunne  to  sunne, 
and  never  drew  bit." 

Dr.  Johnson,  in  1748,  Uved  at  the  "Golden 
Anchor,"  at  Holborn  Bars. 

At  the  east  corner  of  the  Middle  Row,  Sir  James 
Branscombe  kept  a  lottery-office  for  forty  years, 
He  had  been  footman  to  the  Earl  of  Gainsborough, 
and  was  knighted  when  Sheriff  of  London  and 
Middlesex,  in  1806. 

The  history  of  lotteries  in  England  is  an  enter- 
taining one.  The  earUest  EngUsh  lottery  was 
drawn  in  1569.  The  drawing  began  on  the  nth 
of  January,  at  the  west  door  of  St.  Paul's,  and 
continued  day  and  night  till  the  '6th  of  May.  The 
scheme,  which  had  been  announced  two  years 
before,  shows  that  the  lottery  consisted  of  40,000 
lots,  or  shares,  at  los.  each,  and  that  it  compre- 
hended "a  great  number  of  good  prizes,  as  well 
of  ready  money  as  of  plate,  and  certain  sorts  of 
merchandise."  Any  profit  that  might  be  derived 
from  the  scheme  was  to  be  devoted  to  the  repara- 
tion of  harbours  and  other  useful  public  works. 
The  second  lottery,  in  16 12,  was  projected  to 
benefit  the  new  colony  in  Virginia,  and  there  is  a 
tradition  that  the  principal  prize — 4,000  crowns 
— was  gained  by  a  poor  tailor.  Down  to  1826 
(except  for  a  short  time  following  upon  an  Act  of 
Queen  Anne)  lotteries  continued  to  be  sanctioned 
by  the  English  Goyernment  as  a  source  of  revenue. 
It  seems  strange,  says  a  popular  writer,  that  so 
glaringly  immoral  a  project  should  have  been  kept 
up  under  such  auspices  so  long.  The  younger 
people  at  the  present  day  may  be  at  a  loss  to 
beheve  that,  in  the  days  of  their  fathers,  there  were 
large  and  imposing  offices  in  London,  such  as  this 
one  in  Holbom,  and  pretentious  agencies  in  the 
provinces,  for  the  sale  of  lottery-tickets;  while 
flaming  advertisements  on  walls,  in  new  books,  and 
in  the  public  journals,  proclaimed  the  preferable- 
ness  of  such  and  such  "lucky"  offices— this  one 
having  sold  two-sixteenths  of  the  last  ;!^2o,ooo 
prize,  another  having  sold  an  entire  ^^30,000 
ticket  the  year  before,  and  so  on.  It  was  found 
possible  to  persuade  the  public,  or  a  portion  of 
it,  that  where  a  blessing  had  once  lighted,  it  was 
the  more  likely  to  light  again.  The  competition 
amongst  the  lottery-offices  was  intense.  One  firm, 
finding  an  old  woman  in  the  country  of  the  name 
of  Goodluck,  gave  her  ^50  a  year,  on  condition 
she  should  join  them  as  a  nominal  partner,  for  the 
sake  of  the  attractive  effect  of  her  name.  In  their 
advertisements  each  was  sedulous  to  tell  how  many 
of  the  grand  prizes  had  in  former  years  fallen  to 
the  lot  of  persons  who  had  bought  at  h's  shop. 
"The   State    lottery,"   Dr.    Chambers   remarks, 


"was  founded  on  the  simple  principle  that  the 
State  held  forth  a  certain  surn,  to  be  repaid  by  a 
larger.  The  transaction  was  usually  managed  thus : 
— The  Government  gave  ;^io  in  prizes  for  every 
share  taken,  on  an  average.  A. great  many  blanks, 
or  of  prizes  under  j^io,  left,  of  course,  a  surplus 
for  the  creation  of  a  few  magnificent  prizes,  where- 
with to  attract  the  unwary  public,  Certain  firms  in 
the  City,  known  as  lottery-office  keepers,  contracted 
for  the  lottery,  each  taking  a  certain  number  of 
shares;  the  sum  paid  by  them  was  always  more 
than  ;!^io  per  share,  and  the  excess  constituted 
the  Government  profit.  It  was  customary,  for  many 
years,  for  the  contractors  to  give  about  ;^i6  to 
the  Government,  and  then  to  charge  the  public 
from  ;£^2o  to  ;^22.  It  was  made  lawful  for  the  con- 
tractors to  divide  the  sharps  into  halves,  quarters, 
eighths,  and  sixteenths,  and  they  always  charged 
relatively  more  for  these  aliquot  parts.  A  man 
with  30s.  to  spare  could  buy  a  sixteenth,  and  the 
contractors  made  a  large  portion  of  their  profit  out 
of  such  customers." 

"  The  Government  sometimes  paid  the  prizes  in  ■ 
terminable  annuities,  instead  of  cash,  and  the  loan 
system  and  the  lottery  system  weire  occasionally 
combined  in  a  very  odd  way.  Thus,  in  1780,  every 
subscriber  of  ;^i,ooo  towards  a  loan  of  ;^2,ooo,ooo, 
at  four  per  cent,  received  a  bonus  of  four  lottery- 
tickets,  the  value  of  each  of  which  was  ;^io,  and 
any  one  of  which  might  be  the  fortunate  number 
for  a  _;^20,ooo  or  ;^30,ooo  prize." 

The  culminating  point  in  the  history  of  lottery 
gambling  appears  to  have  been  the  year  1772.  The 
whole  town  then  went  crazed  on  the  chance  of 
making  large  gains  by  small  ventures.  There  were 
lottery  magazines,  lottery  tailors  and  dressmakers ; 
lottery  glovers,  hat-makers,  and  tea-dealers ;  lottery 
snuff  and  pig-tail  merchants ;  lottery  barbers,  who 
promised,  on  payment  of  3d.,  to  shave  you  and 
give  you  a  chance  of  being  paid  ;^io;  lottery 
shoe-blacks;  lottery  ordinaries,  where  one  might 
obtain,  for  6d.,  a  plate  of  beef  and  the  chance  of 
winning  sixty  guineas;  lottery  oyster-stalls,  where 
3d.  yielded  a  dozen  of  oysters  and  a  very  distant 
prospect  of  five  guineas  ;  and,  lastly,  a  sausage- 
stall,  in  a  blind  alley,  where  you  might,  by  pur- 
chasing a  farthing's  worth  of  sausages,  should  the 
fates  prove  propitious,  gain  a  bonus  of  5s. 

The  demoralising  effect  of  this  state  of  affairs 
may  be  readily  imagined.  By  creating  illusive 
hopes  lotteries  supplanted  steady  industry.  Shop- 
men robbed  their  masters,  servant-girls  their  mis- 
tresses, friends  borrowed  from  each  other  under 
false  pretences,  and  husbands  stinted  their  wives 
and    children    of    necessaries — all  to   raise    the 


538 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbora. 


means  for  buying  a  portion  or  the  whole  of  a 
lottery-ticket.  There  was  no  exaggeration  in  the 
report  of  a  committee  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, a  considerable  time  prior  to  the  abolition 
of  lotteries  in  1826,  which  remarked  that  "the 
foundation  of  the  lottery  is  so  radically  vicious 
that  under  no  system  can  it  become  an  efficient 
source  of  gain,  and  yet  be  divested  of  the 
evils  and  calamities  of  which  it  has  proved  so 
baneful  a  source.  Idleness,  dissipation,  and  poverty 
are  increased;  sacred  and  confidential  trusts  are 
betrayed ;  domestic  comfort  is  destroyed ;  madness 
often  created;  crimes  subjecting  the  perpetrators 
to  death  are  committed.  No  mode  of  raising 
money  appears  so  burdensome,  pernicious,  and 
unproductive.  No  species  of  adventure  is  known 
where  the  chances  are  so  great  against  the  ad- 
venturers, none  where  the  infatuation  is  more 
powerful,  lasting,  and  destructive.  In  the  lower 
classes  of  society  the  persons  engaged  are,  generally 
speaking,  either  immediately  or  ultimately  tempted 
to  their  ruin ;  and  there  is  scarcely  any  condition 
of  life  so  destitute  and  so  abandoned  but  its  dis- 
tresses have  not  been  aggravated  by  this  allurement 
to  gaming." 

Amidst  all  this  immoral  and  unhealthy  excite- 
ment, however,  many  incidents  occurred  which,  to 
read  about  at  least,  afford  amusement.  In  1767, 
for  example,  a  lady  in  Holbom  had  a  lottery-ticket 
presented  to  her  by  her  husband,  and  on  the  Sun- 
day preceding  the  drawing,  her  success  was  prayed 
for  in  the  parish  church — St.  "Andrew's,  most  pro- 
bably— in  this  form  :  "  The  prayers  of  this  con- 
gregation are  desired  for  the  success  of  a  person 
engaged  in  a  new  undertaking.''  Possibly  she  was 
one  of  those  who  followed  the  lottery-loving  clergy 
who  used  to  defend  the  appeal  to  chance  by 
reference  to  Scripture,  urging  that  "  by  lot  it  was 
determined  which  of  the  goats  should  be  offered  to 
Aaron;  by  lot  the  land  of  Canaan  was  divided; 
by  lot  Saul  was  marked  out  for  the  kingdom ;  by 
lot  Jonah  was  found  to  be  the  cause  of  the  tempest; 
by  lot  the  apostles  filled  up  the  vacant  place  of 
Judas."  But  "the  devil  can  quote  Scripture  for 
his  purpose." 

In  the  same  year  (1767)  the  prize  (or  a  prize) 
of  ^20,000  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  tavern-keeper  at 
Abingdon.  We  are  told,  in  the  journals  of  the 
time—"  The  broker  who  went  from  town  to  carry 
him  the  news  he  compHmented  with  ;^ioo.  All 
the  bells  in  the  place  were  set  a-ringing.  He  called 
his  neighbours,  and  promised  to  assist  this  one 
with  a  capital  sum,  that  one  with  another.  He 
gave  away  plenty  of  hquor,  and  vowed  to  lend  a 
poor  cobbler  money  to  buy  leather  to  stock  his 


stall  so  full  that  he  should  not  be  able  to  get 
into  it  to  work;  and,  lastly,  he  promised  to  buy 
a  new  coach  for  the  coachman  who  brought  him 
down  the  ticket,  and  to  give  a  set  of  as  good 
horses  as  could  be  bought  for  money." 

The  theory  of  "  lucky  numbers  "  attracted  great 
attention  in  the  days  of  lotteries.  When  the 
drawing  took  place,  papers  inscribed  with  as  many 
different  numbers  as  there  were  shares,  or  tickets, 
were  placed  in  a  hollow  wheel ;  one  of  these  was 
drawn  out,  usually  by  a  Bluecoat  boy,  and  the 
number  was  audibly  announced.  Another  Blue- 
coat  boy  then  drew  out  of  another  wheel  a  paper, 
representing  either  a  "blank"  or  a  prize  for  a 
certain  sum  of  money,  and  the  purchaser  of  that 
particular  number  got  nothing  or  gained  a  prize 
accordingly.  With  a  view  to  getting  lucky  numbers, 
one  man  would  select  his  own  age,  or  the  age  of 
his  wife;  another  would  select  the  date  of  the 
year,  a  third  a  row  of  odd  or  of  even  numbers. 
Some,  in  their  excitement,  dreamt  of  numbers,  and 
purchased  tickets  in  harmony  with  their  dreams. 
There  is  an  amusing  paper  in  the  Spectator  (No. 
191,  October  9,  1711)  in  which  the  subject  of  lucky 
numbers  is  dealt  with  in  a  strain  of  pleasant  banter. 
It  tells  of.  one  man  who  selected  17 11,  because  it 
was  the  year  of  our  Lord ;  of  another  who  sought 
for  134,  because  it  constituted  the  minority  on  a 
celebrated  bill  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  of 
a  third  who  selected  the  number  of  the  beast,  666, 
on  the  ground  that  wicked  beings  were  often  lucky. 
In  1790  a  lady  bought  No.  17090,  because  it  was 
the  nearest  ifi  sound  to  1 790,  which  had  been  already 
sold  to  some  other  applicant.  A  story  is  told  of 
a  tradesman  who,  on  one  occasion,  bought  four 
tickets  consecutive  in  number.  He  thought  it 
foolish  to  have  them  so  close  together,  and  took 
one  back  to  the  office  to  be  exchanged.  The  one 
thus  taken  back  turned  up  a  ;^2o,ooo  prize  ! 

The  last  "  State  lottery "  was  draAvn  in  England 
on  the  1 8th  of  October,  1826,  at  Cooper's  Hall, 
Basinghall  Street.  Public  suspicion  had,  however, 
by  this  time  been  aroused,  and  though  such  num- 
bers turned  out  to  see  the  last  of  a  long  series  of 
legahsed  swindles,  as  to  inconveniently  crowd  the 
hall,  the  lottery-office  keepers  could  not  dispose  of 
all  the  tickets.  The  abolition  of  lotteries  deprived 
the  Government  of  a  revenue  equal  to  ;!^2  50,000 
or  ;^3oo,ooo  per  annum. 

In  Holbom  was  born  the  once  popular  lecturer 
and  poet,  George  Alexander  Stevens,  "a  man," 
says  the  late  Mr.  J.  H.  Jesse,  "  whose  misfortunes 
were  only  equal  to  his  misconduct — at  one  time 
the  idol  of  a  Bacchanalian  club,  and  at  another  the 
inmate  of  a  gaol ;  at  one  time  writing  a  drinking- 


tiolbom.j 


An  old  iSERBALlST. 


53^ 


song,  and  at  another  a  religious  poem.  Stevens  is 
now,  perhaps,  best  remembered  from  his  '  Lectures 
on  Heads,'  a  medley  of  wit  and  nonsense,  to  which 
no  other  person  but  himself  could  have  given  the 
proper  effect.  The  lecture  was  originally  designed 
for  Shuter,  who  entirely  failed  in  the  performance. 
Stevens,  however,  no  sooner  attempted  the  task 
himself  than  it  became  instantly  popular." 

At  the  commencement  of  his  career  Stevens 
attempted  the  stage,  a  line  of  life  which  he  soon 
abandoned.  As  an  actor  his  merit  was  below 
mediocrity.  As  a  humorous  writer  he  acquired 
considerable  fame,  but  his  life  being  neither  regu- 
lated by  the  rules  of  virtue  nor  of  prudence,  his 
health  was  soon  impaired,  his  finances  were  often 
at  a  low  ebb,  and  his  person  was  not  unfrequently 
in  durance.  His  pecuniary  position,  however,  was 
much  improved  by  his  happily  conceived  lecture, 
by  means  of  which  he  soon  amassed  a  large  sum  of 
money.  After  delivering  it  in  England  and  Scot- 
land, with  extraordinary  approbation,  he  visited 
America,  and  was  well  received  in  all  the  principal 
towns.  In  fact,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years  he 
became  worth  about  ;£io,oooj  but  the  greater  part 
of  this  sum  had  melted  from  his  hands  before  his 
death.  He  died  on  the  6th  of  September,  1784, 
his  mind  having  for  some  time  previous  been  in  a 
state  of  hopeless  idiotic  ruin. 

Stevens  is  the  first  instance  that  can  be  produced 
of  one  man,  single-handed,  keeping  an  audience 
amused  for  the  space  of  four  hours.  As  he  was 
the  inventor  of  this  species  of  entertainment,  it 
may  natur'ally  be  inquired  by  what  means  it  was 
suggested  to  him.  The  first  idea  of  his  lecture,  it 
is  said,  was  got  at  a  village,  where  he  was  manager 
of  a  theatrical  company.  He  met  there  with  a 
country  mechanic,  who  described  the  members  of 
the  corporation  with  great  force  and  humour.  Upon 
this  idea  Stevens  improved,  and  was  assisted  in 
making  the  heads  by  his  friend,  who  little  imagined 
what  a  source  of  profit  he  had  established. 

Gerarde,  the  herbalist,  had  a  large  physic-garden 
in  Holborn.  The  site  is  uncertain,  but  we  may 
as  well  notice  it  here.  He  dates  his  "Herbal" 
"  From  my  house  in  London,  within  the  suburbs 
of  London,  this  first  of  December,  1597-"  He 
mentions  in  his  famous  work  many  rare  plants 
which  grew  well  in  the  garden  behind  his  house. 

Of  his  botanic  garden  in  Holborn,  says  Chalmers, 
"Gerard  published  a  catalogue  in  1596,  and  again 
in  1599.  Of  this  work  scarcely  an  impression  is 
known  to  exist,  except  one  in  the  British  Museum, 
which  proved  of  great  use  in  preparing  the  'Hortus 
Kewensis'  of  Mr.  Aiton,  as  serving  to  ascertain 
the  time  when  many  old  plants  were  first  culti- 


vated. It  contains,  according  to  Dr.  Pulteney, 
i>°33  species,  or  at  least  supposed  such,  though 
many,  doubdess,  were  varieties;  and  there  is  an 
attestation  of  Lobel  subjoined,  vouching  for  his 
having  seen  nearly  all  of  them  growing  and  flowering. 
This  was  one  of  the  earliest  botanic  gardens  in 
Europe." 

This  last  statement  of  Chalmers'  is  a  httle  of 
an  exaggeration.  The  fact  is,  there  was  a  botanic 
garden  in  England,  at  Syon  House,  the  seat  of  the 
Duke  of  Somerset,  as  early  as  the  beginning  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  It  was  under  the  superin- 
tendence of  Dr.  Turner,  whom  Dr.  Pulteney  con- 
siders as  the  father  of  English  botany.  A  great 
deal  of  interest  seems  to  have  been  taken  in  botany 
during  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  many 
new  plants  were  brought  into  the  country.^  Gerarde 
mentions  Nicholas  Lete,  a  merchant  in  London, 
"greatly  in  love  with  rare  and  fair  flowers,  for 
which  he  doth  carefully  send  into  Syria,  having  a 
servant  there  at  Aleppo,  and  in  many  other 
countries,  for  which  myself  and  the  whole  land  are 
much  bound  unto  him."  The  same  author  also 
gives  due  honour  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh ;  to  Lord 
Edward  Zouch,  who,  assisted  by  the  celebrated 
Lobel,  brought  plants  and  seeds  from  Constan- 
tinople ;  and  to  Lord  Hunsdon,  Lord  High  Cham- 
berlain of  England,  who,  he  says,  "is  worthy  of 
triple  honour  for  his  care  in  getting,  as  also  for  his 
care  in  keeping,  such  rare  and  curious  things  from 
the  farthest  parts  of  the  world." 

Gerarde  was  born  at  Nantwich,  in  Cheshire,  in 
1545.  He  practised  surgery  in  London,  and  rose 
to  eminence  in  that  profession.  After  the  pub- 
lication of  his  "  Herbal,"  he  lived  for  about  ten 
years,  his  death  taking  place  in  1607.  Many 
errors  have  been  pointed  out  in  Gerarde's  work, 
but  he  had  the  great  merit  of  a  practical  knowledge 
of  plants,  with  unbounded  zeal  and  indefatigable 
perseverance.  He  contributed  greatly  to  forward 
the  knowledge  of  plants  in  England,  and  his  name 
will  be  remembered  by  botanists  with  esteem,  when 
the  utility  of  his  "  Herbal"  is  superseded.  "  He 
was  patronised,"  says  Pennant,  "by  several  of  the 
first  characters  of  the  time.  During  twenty  years 
he  superintended  the  garden  of  the  great  states- 
man. Lord  Burleigh ;  on  his  death,  he  found  in  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  another  patron ;  and  the  same  in 
Lord  Edward  Zouch  and  Lord  Hunsdon,  Lord 
High  Treasurer  of  England.  All  of  those  noble- 
men were  much  smitten  with  the  useful  and  agree- 
able study  of  botany." 

Many  districts  of  London  have  in  past  times 
had  the  good  fortune  to  be  haunted  by  characters 
of  an  original  type,  and  a  most  interesting  volume 


54° 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


tHolborn. 


might  be  compiled  of  these  metropolitan  oddities. 
At  present  we  shall  notice  one  who  used  to  frequent 
the  region  of  Holborn,  and  who  has  been  taken 
notice  of  by  "  Aleph,"  in  his  "  London  Scenes  and 
London  People."  This  was  Peter  Stokes,  known 
as  "  the  Flying  Pieman  of  Holborn  Hill."  He  is 
thus  described,  dressed  in  all  the  finery  of  an  old- 
fashioned  costume,  by  Mr.  Harvey,  writing  in 
1863  : — "  When  I  was  a  youngster,  the  steep  road- 
way from    Hatton   Garden   to  Fleet  Market  was 


tray  or  board,  just  large  enough  to  receive  an 
appetite-provoking  pudding,  about  three  inches 
thick.  This  was  divided  into  twelve  slices,  which 
he  sold  at  a  penny  a  slice.  A  broad  blunt  spatula, 
brilliantly  bright,  which  he  carried  in  his  left  hand, 
enabled  him  to  dispense  his  sweets  without  ever 
touching  them.  His  countenance  was  open  and 
agreeable,  expressive  of  intellect  and  moral  ex- 
cellence." 

And  about  this  m.an,  engaged  in  such  a  humble 


OLD  HOUSES  IN  HOLBORN   NEAR  MIDDLE   ROW. 


highly  attractive  to  me  on  account  of  the  '  Flying 
Pieman,'  though  he  did  not  vend  pies,  but  a  kind  of 
baked  plum-pudding,  which  he  offered  smoking  hot. 
He  was  a  slim,  active,  middle-sized  man,  about  forty 
years  old.  He  always  wore  a  black  suit,  scrupu- 
lously brushed,  dress-coat  and  vest,  knee-breeches, 
stout  black  silk  stockings,  and  shoes  with  steel 
buckles,  then  rather  fashionable.  His  shirt,  re- 
markably well  got  up,  had  a  wide  frill,  surmounted 
by  a  spotless  white  cravat.  He  never  wore  either 
hat  or  cap ;  his  hair,  cropped  very  close,  was 
plentifully  powdered,  And  he  was  decorated  with  a 
delicate  lawn  apron,  which  hardly  reached  to  his 
knees.     In  his  right  hand  he  held  a  small  circular 


trade,  shone  the  light  of  a  somewhat  romantic 
history.  He  was  by  profession  a  painter,  and,  it 
was  believed,  possessed  considerable  talent.  When 
he  was  a  very  young  man  he  mamed,  "all  for 
love."  His  practice  as  an  artist  did  not  keep  pace 
with  the  growing  wants  of  a  small  family,  and 
at  last,  with  an  eccentricity  which,  in  the  circum- 
stances, may  be  pardoned,  he  determined  to  begin 
a  street-trade  on  Holborn  Hill,  and  conducted  this 
business  for  many  a  day.  From  twelve  to  four 
o'clock  he  was  to  be  seen  shouting,  "Buy,  buy, 
buy  ! "  as  he  moved  to  and  fro,  from  Fetter  Lane 
to  Ely  Place,  thence  to  Thavies  Inn  or  to  Field 
Lane,  Hatton  Garden  or  Fleet  Market,  rapidly 


Holhorn.] 


AN   OLD   ENGLISH  BELLMAN. 


541 


getting  rid  of  his  tempting  wares.  After  four 
o'clock  he  betook  himself  to  genteel  lodgings  in 
Rathbone  Place,  where  Stokes  was  himself  again, 
resumed  his  palette  and  easel,  and  found  sitters 
increase  as  his  means  made  them  less  necessary, 
for  the  street  business  proved  a  money-making 
one. 

Peter  Stokes'  history  recalls  that  of  a  remark- 
able hawker  of  savoury  patties,  who  might  be  con- 


teenth  century,"  says  Dr.  Robert  Chambers,  "  the 
bellman  was  the  recognised  term  for  what  we  would 
now  call  a  night  watchman,  being  derived  from  the 
handbell  which  the  man  carried  in  order  to  give 
alarm  in  case  of  fire.  In  the  Luttrell  Collection  of 
Broadsides  (British  Museum)  is  one  dated  1683-4, 
entided,  '  A  Copy  of  Verses  presented  by  Isaac 
Ragg,  Bellman,  to  his  Masters  and  Mistresses  of 
Holboum  Division,  in  the  Parish  of  St.  Giles-in-the- 


BLEEDING   HEART   YARD. 


stantly  seen  in  the  streets  of  Paris,  durmg  the 
earlier  years  of  Louis  XVI.  He  was  of  higher 
origin  than  our  London  "  Flying  Pieman,"  how- 
ever, but  reckless  extravagance  had  reduced  him  to 
poverty  while  he  was  yet  in  the  prime  of  life.  His 
dress  was  fastidiously  elegant,  and  while  standing, 
basket  in  hand,  on  the  steps  of  the  Palais  Royal, 
he  wore  round  his  neck  the  decoration  of  St. 
Croix.  Sterne  had  seen  him,  and  declares  that 
his  manners  and  address  were  those  of  a  man  of 

high  rank. 

Let  us  now  speak  about  another  character  of 
this  neighbourhood,  namely,  an  old  bellman  of 
Holborn,  and  take  the  opportunity  of  saymg  a  few 
words  about  bellmen  in  general.  "  In  London, 
and  probably  in  other  English  cities  m  the  seven- 
94— Vol.  II. 


Fields.'  It  is  headed  by  a  woodcut  representing 
Isaac  in  professional  accoutrements — a  pointed 
pole  in  the  left  hand,  and  in  the  right  a  bell,  while 
his  lantern  hangs  from  his  jacket  in  front.  Below 
is  a  series  of  verses  on  St.  Andrew's  Day,  King 
Charles  the  First's  birthday,  Sf.  Thomas's  Day, 
Christmas  Day,  St.  John's  Day,  Childermas  Day, 
New  Year's  Day,  the-  13th  of  January,  &c.,  all 
of  them  being  very  proper,  and  very  insufferable. 
The  '  prologue '  indeed  is  the  only  specimen  worth 
giving,  being  the  expression  of  Mr.  Ragg's  official 
duty.     It  runs  as  follows  : — 

'  Time,  master,  calls  your,bellman  to  his  task, 
To  see  your  doors  and  iviijdows  all  are  fast, 
And  that  no  villany  pr  fo'ul  crime  be  done 
To  you  or  yours  in  abseftce  of  the  sun. 


S42 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Northern  Tributaries  of  Holborn, 


If  any  base  lurker  I  do  mftet, 

In  private  alley  or  in  open  street, 

You  shall  have  vifarning  by  my  timely  call ; 

And  so  God  bless  you,  and  give  rest  to  all.' '' 

One  of  our  Holborn  bellman's  professional 
brethren,  Thomas  Law,  issued  a  similar  but  un- 
adorned broadside  in  1666,  which  has  had  the 
good  fortune  to  be  preserved  for  our  enlighten- 
ment. In  it  he  greets  his  masters  of  "  St.  Giles, 
Cripplegate,  within  the  Freedom,"  in  no  less  than 
twenty-three  dull  stanzas,  of  which  the  last  may 
be  given  here  : — 

"No  sooner  hath  St.  Andrew  crovi'ned  November, 
But  Boreas  from  the  north  brings  cold  December  ; 
And  I  have  often  heard  a  many  say 
He  brings  the  vi^inter  month  Newcastle  way  : 
For  comfort  here  of  poor  distressed  souls 
WoiUd  he  had  with  him  brought  a  fleet  of  coals. " 

At  a  fixed  season  of  the  year — ^most  often,  no 
doubt,  Christmas — it  seems  to  have  been  customary 


for  the  bellman  to  distribute  copies  of  his  broadside 
through  the  district  of  which  he  had  the  charge, 
expecting  his  masters  to  favour  him  in  return  with 
some  small  gratuity.  The  execrable  character 
which  usually  belonged  to  these  rhymed  produc- 
tions is  shown  by  the  contempt  with  which  the  wits 
used  to  speak  of  "  bellman's  verses.'' 

Robert  Herrick  has  a  little  poem  in  which  he 
wishes  good  luck  to  his  friends  in  the  form  of 
the  nightly  addresses  of  the  bellman.  Like  all 
Herrick's  productions,  it  is  daintily  musical.  With 
its  good  wishes  applied  to  the  reader,  we  shall  leave 
him  for  the  present,  and  conclude  this  chapter  : — 

"  From  noise  of  scare  fires  rest  ye  free. 
From  murders  benedicite ; 
From  all  mischances  that  may  fright 
Your  pleasing  slumbers  in  the  night ; 
Mercie  secure  ye  all,  and  keep 
The  goblin  from  ye,  while  ye  sleep. 
Past  one  o'clock,  and  almost  two  : 
My  masters  all,  ' goai-day  to  you  !' " 


CHAPTER  LX. 
THE    NORTHERN    TRIBUTARIES    OF    HOLBORN. 

Field  Lane— A  Description  by  Dickens — Saffron  Hill — Old  Chick  Lane — Thieves'  Hiding  Places — Hatton  Garden— A  Dramatist's  Wooing— 
The  Celebrated  Dr.  Bate — Charles  Street — Bleeding  Heart  Yard — Love  or  .Murder — Leather  Lane — George  Morland,  the  Painter- 
Robbing  One's  Own  House^ Brooke  Street — The  Poet  Chatterton — His  Life  in  London,  and  his  Death — The  Great  Lord  Hardwicke — 
A  Hardworking  Apprenticeship— Coach-hire  for  a  Barrel  cf  Oysters — A  Start  in  Life — Greville  Street — Lord  Brooke's  Murder — A  Patron 
of  Learning— Gray's  Inn  Lane — Tom  Jones'  Arrival  in  Town — "  Your  Money  or  Your  Life" — Poets  of  Gray's  Inn  Lane — James  Shirley, 
the  Dramatist^ohn  Ogilby— John  Langhorne — The  "  Blue  Lion" — Fox  Court — The  Unfortunate  Richard  Savage. 


In  speaking  of  the  tributary  streams  of  human 
activity  which  flow  into  Holborn  from  the  north, 
we  shall  begin  a  little  to  the  east  of  Ely  Place, 
and  mention  one  which  has  lately  been  improved 
out  of  existence,  namely.  Field  Lane.  Field  Lane, 
extending  from  the  foot  of  Holborn  Hill  north- 
ward, and  in  this  way  lying  parallel  with  Fleet 
Ditch,  used  to  be  an  infamous  haunt  of  the  "  dan- 
gerous classes."  Now,  its  site,  entered  off  Charter- 
house Street,  may  be  visited  by  the  inquiring 
stranger  with  somewhat  of  a  feeling  of  disappoint- 
ment that  respectability  is  not  half  so  picturesque 
as  its  opposite.  In  1837,  Field  Lane  was  vividly 
sketched  by  Charles  Dickens,  in  his  "  Oliver 
Twist."  "Near  to  the  spot,"  he  says,  "on  which 
Snow  Hill  and  Holborn  meet,  there  opens,  upon 
the  right  hand  as  you  come  out  of  the  City,  a 
narrow  and  dismal  alley,  leading' to  Saffron  Hill. 
In  its  filthy  shops  are  exposed  for  sale  huge 
bunches  of  pocket-handkerchiefs  of  all  sizes  and 
patterns,  for  here  reside  the  traders  who  purchase 
them  from  pickpockets.  Hundreds  of  these  hand- 
kerchiefs  hang   dangling  from  pegs  outside  the 


windows  or  flaunting  from  the  door-posts,  and  the 
shelves  within  are  piled  with  them.  Confined  as 
the  limits  of  Field  Lane  are,  it  has  its  barber,  its 
coffee-shop,  its  beer-shop,  and  its  fried  fish  ware- 
house. It  is  a  commercial  colony  of  itself— the 
emporium  of  petty  larceny,  visited  at  early  morning 
and  setting-in  of  dusk  by  silent  merchants,  who 
traffic  in  dark  back  parlours  and  go  as  strangely 
as  they  come.  Here  the  clothes-man,  the  shoe- 
vamper,  and  the  rag-merchant,  display  their  goods 
as  sign-boards  to  the  petty  thief,  and  stores  of  old 
iron  and  bones,  and  heaps  of  mildewy  fragmeijts  of 
woollen-stuff  and  linen,  rust  and  rot  in  the  grimy 
cellars." 

Northward  from  Field  Lane  ran  Saffron  Hill, 
which  once  formed  a  part  of  the  pleasant  gardens  of 
Ely  Place,  and  derived  its  name  from  the  crops  ol 
saffron  which  it  bore.  But  the  saffron  disappeared,- 
and  in  time  there  grew  up  a  squalid  neighbour- 
hood, swarming  with  poor  people  and  thieves. 
Strype,  in  1720,  describes  the  locality  ae  "of  small 
account  both  as  to  buildings  and  inhabitants,  and 
pestered  with  small  and  ordinary  alleys  and  courts 


Northern  Tributaries  of  Holbom.i 


THE   RICH   WIDOW. 


S43 


taken  up  by  the  meaner  sort  of  people ;  others 
are,"  he  says,  "  nasty  and  inconsiderable."  Saffron 
Hill  ran  from  Field  Lane  into  Vine  Street,  and 
here  we  have,  a  name  recalling  the  vineyard  of  old 
Ely  Place.  Cunningham  (1849)  mentions  that  so 
dangerous  was  this  neighbourhood  in  his  day  that 
when  the  clergy  of  St.  Andrew's,  Holborn  (the 
parish  in  which  the  purlieu  lies),  visited  it,  they  had 
to  be  accompanied  by  policemen  in  plain  clothes. 

Old  Chick  Lane  debouched  into  Field  Lane. 
The  beginning  of  its  destruction  was  in  1844. 
The  notorious  thieves'  lodging-house  here,  formerly 
the  "  Red  Lion "  tavern,  we  have  already  noticed. 
It  had  various  cunning  contrivances  for  enabling 
its  inmates  to  escape  from  the  pursuit  of  justice. 
Fleet  Ditch  lay  in  the  rear,  and  across  it  by  a 
plank  the  hunted  vagabonds  often  ran  to  conceal 
themselves  in  the  opposite  knot  of  courts  and  alleys. 

Moving  westward,  we  come  to  Hatton  Garden- 
so  called  after  the  Sir  Christopher  Hatton  we  have 
already  met  with  as  Lord  Chancellor  in  Elizabeth's 
reign,  and  after  "  Christopher  Hatton,  his  godson, 
son  of  John  Hatton,  cousin  and  heir-male  of  the 
celebrated  Sir  Christopher  Hatton,  created  Baron 
Hatton  of  Kirby,  in  the  county  of  Northampton, 
July  29th,  1643,  and  died  1670." 

Strype  describes  Hatton  Garden  as  "a  very  large 
place,  containing  several  streets — viz., Hatton  Street, 
Charles  Street,  Cross  Street,  and  Kirby  Street,  all 
which  large  tract  of  ground  was  a  garden,  and 
belonged  to  Hatton  House,  now  pulled  down,  and 
built  into  houses." 

We  get  a  glimpse  of  active  building  operations 
going  on  here  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  in  Evelyn's  "  Diary  :  " — "  7th  June,  1659. 
To  Londpn  to  take  leave  of  my  brother,  and  see 
the  foundations  now  laying  for  a  long  streete  and 
buildings  in  Hatton  Garden,  designed  for  a  little 
towne,  lately  an  ample  garden." 

In  Dennis's  "Letters,"  1721,  we  come  upon  a 
passage  relating  to  an  almost-forgotten  poet  and 
playwright  who,  on  matrimonial  thoughts  intent, 
once  haunted  this  locality.  "  Mr.  Wycberly  visited 
her  [the  Countess  of  Drogheda]  daily  at  her  lodg- 
ings, while  she  stayed  at  Tunbridge,  and  after  she 
went  to  London,  at  her  lodgings  in  Hatton  Garden, 
where,  in  a  little  time,  he  got  her  consent  to  marry 
her."  This  is  part  of  a  romantic  story  told  in 
Gibber's  "Lives  of  the  Poets,", in  repeating  which 
we  must  begin  by  informing  the  reader  that  one  of 
Wycherly's  most  successful  plays  was  entitled  The 
Plain  Dealer.  The  writer  went  down  to  Tun- 
bridge, to  take  either  the  benefit  of  the  waters  or 
the  diversions  of  the  place,  and  when  walking  one 
day  upon  the  Wells  Walk  with  his  friend  Mr.  Fair- 


beard,  of  Gray's  Inn,  just  as  he  came  '  up  to  the 
bookseller's,  the  Countess  of  Drogheda,  a  young 
widow,  rich  and  beautiful,  came  to  the  bookseller 
and  inquired  for  The  Plain  Dealer.  "  Madam," 
says  Mr.  Fairbeard,  "  since  you  are  for  The  Plain 
Dealer,  there  he  is  for  you,"  pushing  Mr.  Wycherley 
towards  her.  "Yes,"  says  Mr.  Wycherley,  "this 
lady  can  bear  plain  dealing,  for  she  appears  to  be 
so  accomplished,  that  what  would  be  a  compliment 
to  others,  when  said  to  her  would  be  plain  dealing." 
"  No,  truly,  sir,"  said  the  lady ;  "  I  am  not  without 
my  faults,  like  the  rest  of  my  sex ;  and  yet,  not- 
withstanding all  my  faults,  I  love  plain  dealing, 
and  never  am  more  fond  of  it  than  when  it  tells  me 
of  a  fault."  "  Then,  madam,"  says  Mr.  Fairbeard, 
"you  and  'The  Plain  Dealer'  seem  designed  by 
Heaven  for  each  other." 

The  upshot  of  the  affair  was  that  Mr.  Wycherley 
accompanied  the  countess  on  her  walks,  waited  on 
her  home,  visited  her  daily  at  her  lodgings,  followed 
her  to  town,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  at  Hatton  Garden 
brought  his  wooing  to  a  successful  close. 

A  gallant  beginning  should  have  a  good  ending. 
But  it  was  not  so  here  :  the  lady  proved  unreason- 
ably jealous,  and  led  the  poor  poet  a  sad  life. 
Even  from  a  pecuniary  point  of  view  he  made  a 
bad  bargain  of  his  marriage,  for  after  her  death  her 
bequest  to  him  was  disputed  at  law,  and,  drowned 
in  debt,  he  was  immured  in  a  gaol  for  seven  years. 
The  celebrated  physician.  Dr.  George  Bate,  who 
attended  Oliver  Cromwell  in  his  last  illness,  died  in 
Hatton  Garden  in  1668.  He  was  born  in  1608  at 
Maid's  Morton,  near  Buckingham.  He  rose  to 
great  eminence  in  his  profession,  and  when  King 
Charles  kept  his  court  at  Oxford,  was  his  principal 
physician  there.  When  the  king's  affairs  declined, 
he  removed  to  London,  and  adapted  himself  so 
well  to  the  changed  times  that  he  became  chief 
physician  to  the  Lord  Protector,  whom  he  is  said 
to  have  highly  flattered.  Upon  the  restoration  he 
got  into  favour  again  with  the  royal  party,  and  was 
made  principal  physician  to  Charles  II.,  and  Fellow 
of  the  Royal  Society.  This,  we  are  told,  was  owing 
to  a  report,  raised  on  very  slender  foundation,  and 
asserted  only  by  his  friends,  that  he  gave  Cromwell 
a  dose  of  poison  which  hastened  his  death. 

Charles  Street,  which  intersects  Hatton  Garden, 
is  interesting  as  that  in  which  Joseph  Strutt,  the 
antiquarian  writer,  died,  on  the  i6th  of  October, 
1802.  We  have  already  given  some  particulars  re- 
garding him,  when  speaking  of  St.  Andrew's  Church- 
yard, in  which  he  was  buried.  There  is  a  public- 
house  of  the  name  of  the  "  Bleeding  Heart "  in 
this  street.  This  is  a  sign  dating  from  before  the 
Reformation.     It  is  the  emblematical  representa- 


S44 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Northern  Tributuries  of  Hdbom. 


tion  of  the  five  sorrowful  mysteries  of  the  Rosary — 
viz.,  the  heart  of  the  Holy  Virgin  pierced  with  five 
swords.  Bleeding  Heart  Yard,  adjoining  the  public- 
house  in  Charles  Street,  is  immortalised  by  Charles 
Dickens  in  "  Little  Dorrit.'' 

Bleeding  Heart  Yard,  says  the  novelist,  "  was  a 
place  much  changed  in  feature  and  fortune,  yet 
with  some  reHsh  of  ancient  greatness  about  it  Two 
or  three  mighty  stacks  of  chimneys,  and  a  few  large 
dark  rooms,  which  had  escaped  being  walled  and 
subdivided  out  of  the  recognition  of  their  old  pro- 
portions, gave  the  yard  a  character.  It  was  in- 
habited by  poor  people,  who  set  up  their  rest  among 
its  faded  glories  as  Arabs  of  the  desert  pitch  their 
tents  among  the  fallen  stones  of  the  Pyramids; 
but  there  was  a  family  sentimental  feeling  prevalent 
in  the  yard,  that  it  had  a  character 

"  The  opinion  of  the  Yard  was  divided  re- 
specting the  derivation  of  its  name.  The  more 
practical  of  its  inmates  abided  by  the  tradition  of  a 
murder ;  the  gentler  and  more  imaginative  inhabi- 
tants, including  the  whole  of  the  tender  sex,  were 
loyal  to  the  legend  of  a  young  lady  of  former  time 
closely  imprisoned  in  her  chamber  by  a  cruel  father 
for  remaining  true  to  her  own  true  love,  and  refusing 
to  marry  the  suitor  he  chose  for  her.  The  legend 
related  how  that  the  young  lady  used  to  be  seen 
up  at  her  window,  behind  the  bars,  murmuring  a 
love-lorn  song,  of  which  the  burden  was  'Bleeding 
Heart,  Bleeding  Heart,  bleeding  away,'  until  she 
died.  It  was  objected  by  the  murderous  party 
that  this  refrain  was  notoriously  the  invention  of 
a  tambour- worker,  a  spinster,  and  romantic,  still 
lodging  in  the  yard.  But  forasmuch  as  all  favourite 
legends  must  be  associated  with  the  affections,  and 
as  many  more  people  fall  in  love  than  commit 
murder — which,  it  may  be  hoped,  howsoever  bad 
we  are,  will  continue  until  the  end  of  the  world 
to  be  the  dispensation  under  which  we  live — 
the  Bleeding-Heart,  Bleeding-Heart,  bleeding-away 
story,  carried  the  day  by  a  large  majority.  Neither 
party  would  listen  to  the  antiquaries,  who  delivered 
learned  lectures  in  the  neighbourhood  showing  the 
bleeding  heart  to  have  been  the  heraldic  cognisance 
of  the  old  family  to  whom  the  property  once  be- 
longed. And  considering  that  the  hour-glass  they 
turned  from  year  to  year  was  filled  with  the  earthiest 
and  coarsest  sand,  the  Bleeding  Heart  Yarders  had 
reason  enough  for  objecting  to  be  despoiled  of  the 
one  litde  golden  grain  of  poetry  that  sparkled  in  it." 

The  next  Holbom  tributary  to  be  mentioned  is 
Leather  Lane,  which  runs  from  Holbom  to  Liquor- 
pond  Street.  "Then,  higher  up,"  says  Stow,  "is 
Lither  Lane,  turning  also  to  the  field,  lately  re- 
plenished with  houses  built,  and  so  to  the  bar." 


Strype,  describing  it  in  his  own  time,  says,  "The 
east  side  of  this  lane  is  best  built,  having  all  brick 

houses In  this  lane  is  '  White  Heart 

Inn,'  'Nag's  Head  Inn,'  and  '  King's  Head  Inn ' — 
all  indifferent." 

Following  Leather  Lane  northwards,  we  come  to 
Eyre  Street.  It  is  too  far  removed  from  our  main 
thoroughfare  to  be  mentioned  without  an  excuse. 
.We  make  the  excuse,  however,  for  the  sake  of  the 
eminent  artist  who  breathed  his  last  here.  Here, 
in  1804,  died  George  Morland,  the  celebrated 
painter.  It  was  in  a  sponging-house.  He  had 
been  taken  in  execution  by  a  publican,  for  a  debt 
amounting,  with  costs,  to  about  ten  pounds,  and 
was  conveyed  to  this  place  in  Eyre  Street  Hill, 
overwhelmed  with  misfortune,  debt,  and  neglect; 
every  evil  being  aggravated  by  the  bitterness  of 
self-reproach. 

"In  this  state  of  desperation,"  says  his  bio- 
grapher, "  he  drank  great  quantities  of  spirits,  and 
more  than  once  attempted  to  resume  the  exercise 
of  those  talents  which  hitherto  had  never  failed  to 
procure  him  the  means  of  relief;  but  the  period 
was  arrived  when  even  that  resource  failed  him,  for 
the  next  morning  he  dropped  off  his  chair  in  a  fit, 
while  sketching  a  bank  and  a  tree  in  a  drawing. 
This  proved  to  be  the  commencement  of  a  brain 
fever ;  after  which  he  never  spoke  intelligibly,  but 
remained  eight  days  delirious  and  convulsed,  in  a 
state  of  utter  mental  and  bodily  debility,  and 
expired  the  29th  of  October,  1804,  in  the  forty- 
second  year  of  his  age. 

With  regard  to  the  works  of  this  unfortunate  and 
dissipated  artist,  justly  entitled  to  the  appellation  of 
"  the  Enghsh  Teniers,"  it  is  certain  that  they  will  be 
esteemed  so  long  as  any  taste  for  art  remains  in 
the  kingdom.  Even  his  ordinary  productions  will 
give  pleasure  to  all  who  are  charmed  with  an  accu- 
rate representation  of  nature.  His  command  over 
the  implements  of  his  profession  was  very  great, 
so  great,  indeed,  that  the  use  of  them  became  to 
him  a  second  nature.  Thus  pictures  floVlfed  from 
his  pencil  with  the  most  astonishing  rapidity,  and 
without  that  patience  and  industry  which  works 
even  of  inferior  merit  so  often  require.  While  he 
was  in  the  prime  of  life,  with  a  constitution  unim- 
paired, his  chief  efforts  were  in  picturesque  land- 
scape, in  which  every  circumstance  was  represented 
with  the  utmost  accuracy  and  spirit ;  and  it  is  such 
subjects  as  these,  to  which  he  devoted  his  attention 
for  about  seven  years,  that  have  secured  him  an  im- 
perishable reputation.  In  such  pieces,  the  figures 
he  introduced  were  of  the  lowest  order,  but  they 
retained  a  consistency  appropriate  to  the  surround- 
ings.   When,  from  increasing  depravity  of  manners. 


Northern  Tributanes  of  Holbom.] 


CHATTERTON'S   STRUGGLES. 


545 


he  left  the  green  woodside,  and  became  the  con- 
stant inmate  of  the  alehouse,  his  subjects  were  of 
a, meaner  cast,  for  he  only  painted  what  he  saw. 
"  In  portraying  drovers,  stage-coachmen,  postilions, 
and  labourers  of  all  descriptions,"  says  Mr.  F.  W. 
Blagdon,  "  he  shone  in  full  glory ;  and  his  favourite 
animal^  the  ass,  the  sheep,  and  the  hog,  were  repre- 
sented with  an  accuracy  peculiar  to  himself,  though 
with  a  deficiency  of  that  correctness  which  is  requi- 
site to  form  a  finished  picture;  because  a  few 
strokes  will  represent  a  picturesque  character,  while 
beauty  of  form  can  only  arise  from  repeated  com- 
parisons with  and  amendments  from  viewing  the 
object  delineated.  Morland,  however,  made  his 
sketches  at  once,  and  finished  them  from  recollec- 
tion, and  hence  his  pictures  afford  the  finest  speci- 
mens of  Nature  in  her  roughest  state,  but  nothing 
that  in  point  of  form  can  be  called  beautiful :  it  has 
even  been  said,  though  with  what  truth  I  cannot 
pretend  to  determine,  that  he  was  never  able  to 
draw  a  beautiful  horse,  like  those  delineated  by 
Stubbs  or  Gilpin.  But  it  will  never  be  disputed 
that  as  a  painter  of  old,  rugged,  and  working  cattle, 
together  with  all  the  localities  of  a  farm-yard  or 
stable,  his  equal  does  not,  nor  ever  did,  exjst." 

He  was  much  given  to  mischievous  amusement, 
and  was  fond  of  making  a  disturbance  in  jihe  night, 
and  alarming  his  neighbours.  A  frolic  of  this  sort 
had  nearly  cost  him  dear  :— Whilst  liviijg  at  Lam- 
beth, he,  with  the  assistance  of  a  drupken  com- 
panion, actually  broke  open  his  own  Jiouse,  and 
enjoyed  beyond  description  the  alarm  it  occasioned 
his  family,  some  relations  being  at  the  tiipe  with  him 
on  a  visit.  He  was  at  length  taken  up  by  some 
persons  who  witnessed  the  transaction,  when  it 
turned  out  that  he  had  apprised  the  watchman  of 
his  intentions,  and  even  bribed  him  to  assist. 

Brooke  Street,  Holbom,  is  familiar  enough  to  the 
general  public  as  leading  to  the  church  of  St. 
Alban's — a  church  which,  for  sundry  reasons,  has 
been  of  late  somewhat  prominently  before  the 
world.  Few,  however,  of  those  who  pass  up  and 
down  its  well-trodden  pavement  are  aware  of  the 
interesting  memories  which  belong  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood. 

In  a  lodging  in  Brooke  Street— most  probably 
No.  39— on  the  24th  of  August,  1770,  the  mar- 
vellous boy,  Chatterton,  put  an  end  to  his  life  by 
swallowing  arsenic  in  water.  The  house  was  then 
No.  4,  and  in  the  occupation  of  a  Mrs.  Angel,  a 
sackmaker.  The  poet  was  seventeen  years  and 
nine  months  old  at  the  time  of  his  death. 

With  Chatterton's  career  in  Bristol— where  he  was 
born  on  the  20th  November,  1752— with  his  Rowley 
forgeries,  with  his  comijiunications  with   Horace 


Walpole,  and  the  discovery  of  their  spurious  nature, 
we  shall  not  meddle  at  present.  But  we  may  pro- 
fitably spend  a  short  time  here  in  speaking  of  his 
life  from  the  time  of  his  arrival  in  the  great  metro- 
polis till  his  sad  end.  Dissatisfied  with  Bristol,  and 
feeling  certain  that  in  London  his  talent  would  be 
duly  honoured,  he  came  here  about  the  end  of 
April,  1770.  To  his  correspondents  he  boasted 
that  he  had  had  three  distinct  resources  to  trust 
to  :  one  was  to  write,  another  was  to  turn  Metho- 
dist parson,  and  the  last  was  to  shoot  himself.  The 
last  resource,  unfortunately,  is  in  everybody's  power. 
A  friendly  group  saw  him  start ;  he  arrived  in  town, 
and  settled  first  in  lodgings  in  Shoreditch,  but  after- 
wards removed  to  the  above-mentioned  address 
in  Brooke  Street.  For  the  space  of  four  months 
he  struggled  against  fate,  but  the  records  we  have 
of  his  doings  are  obscure  and  untrustworthy.  It  is 
true  he  sent  flaming  accounts  to  friends  in  Bristol 
of  his  rising  importance ;  that  he  found  money  to 
purchase  and  transmit  to  his  mother  and  sister 
useless  articles  of  finery ;  and  also  that  he  did  his 
best  to  form  profitable  connections :  it  may  well 
be  doubted,  however,  whether  any  large  amount  of 
success  or  remuneration  rewarded  his  extraordinary 
efforts. 

His  first  literary  attempts  were  of  a  political  kind, 
and  he  contrived  to  write  on  both  sides  of  the 
question.  He  also  produced  numerous  articles  of 
a  miscellaneous  kind  in  prose  and  verse.  At  one 
time  he  seemed  in  a  fair  way  for  fortune,  for  Lord 
Mayor  Beckford  encouraged  him,  and  accepted  of 
the  dedication  of  an  essay ;  but  before  the  essay 
could  appear,  Beckford  died.  He  made  a  profit, 
however,  on  the  Lord  Mayor's  death,  and  wrote 
down  on  the  back  of  a  MS.,  "  I  am  glad  he  is  dead, 
by  £,2,  13s.  6d."  Wilkes  also  took  notice  of  him, 
but,  likely  enough,  he  was  more  ready  with  his 
praise  than  with  his  money. 

At  length,  work  failed  the  unfortunate  poet,  and 
he  began  to  starve  ;  his  literary  pursuits  were  aban- 
doned, and  he  projected  to  go  out  to  Africa  as  a 
naval  surgeon's  mate.  He  had  picked  up  some 
knowledge  of  surgery  from  Mr.  Barrett,  the  historian 
of  Bristol,  and  now  requested  that  gentleman's 
recommendation ;  but  he  thought  proper  to  refuse. 
The  short  remainder  of  his  days  was  spent  in  a 
conflict  between  pride  and  poverty. 

"  Mrs.  Angel,"  says  Dix,  in  his  "  Life  of  Chatter- 
ton,"  "  stated  that  for  two  days,  when  he  did  not 
absent  himself  from  his  room,  he  went  without 
sustenance  of  any  kindi  On  one  occasion,  when 
she  knew  him  to  be  in  want  of  food,  she  begged  he 
would  take  a  little  dinner  with  her ;  he  was  offended 
at  the   invitation,  and   assured  her  be  wa?   not 


546 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[Northern  Tributaries  of  Holbom. 


hungry.  Mr.  Cross  also,  an  apothecary  in  Brooke 
Street,  gave  evidence  that  he  repeatedly  pressed 
Chatterton  to  dine  or  sup  with  him,  and  when^  with 
great  difficulty,  he  was  one  evening  prevailed  on  to 


burial-ground,  as  mentioned  by  us  already  (Vol.  L, 
p.  134);  but  there  is  a  story,  also  related  by  us  else- 
where, to  which  some  credit  may  perhaps  be  given, 
that  his  body  was  removed  to  Bristol,  and  secretly 


LEATHER  LANE. 


■partake  of  a  barrel  of  oysters,  he  was  observed  to 
eat  most  voraciously." 

When  he  was  found  lying  on  his  bed,  stiff  and 
cold,  on  the  25th  of  August,  there  were  remains  of 
arsenic  between  his  teeth.  Previous  to  committing 
suicide,  he  seems  to  have  destroyed  all  his  manu- 
scripts ;  for  when  his  room  was  broken  open,  it  was 
found  littered  with  little  scraps  of  paper.   •> 

He  was  interred,  after  the  inquest,  in  a  pauper's 


stowed  away  in  the  churchyard  of  St.  Mary  Red- 
cliffe.  "  There  can  be  no  more  decisive  proof," 
says  Mr.  Chalmers,  "  of  the  little  regard  he  attractfed 
in  London,  than  the  secrecy  and  silence  which 
accompanied  his  death.  This  event,  though  so  extra- 
ordinary— for  young  suicides  are  surely  not  common 
— is  not  even  mentioned  in  any  shape  in  the  Gentle- 
man's Magazine,  the  Annual  Re^ster,  St.  James's 
or  London  Chronicles,  nor  in  any  of  the  respectable 


Northern  Tributaries  of  Holborn.] 


■A  POET'S  GARRET. 


547 


publications  of  the  day."  And  so  perished  in 
destitution,  obscurity,  and  despair,  one  who,  under 
happier  circumstances,  might  have  ranked  among 
the  first  of  his  generation. 

Of  the  house  in  which  the  poet  terminated  his 
strange- career,  Mr.  Hotten,  in  his  "Adversaria," 


as  in  1770  ;  for  the  walls  were  old  and  dilapidated, 
and  the  flooring  decayed.  It  was  a  square  and 
rather  large  room  for  an  attic.  It  had  two  windows 
m  it— lattice  windows,  or  casements— built  in  a 
style  which  I  think  is  called  '  Dormer.'  Outside 
ran  the  gutter,  with  a  low  parapet  wall,  over  which 


CHATTERTON'S    HOUSE     IN     BROOKE    STREET. 


gives  some  interesting  reminiscences.  At  the  date 
of  Mr.  Hottep's  writing,  the  house  was  occupied 
by  a  plumber,  of  the  name  of  Jefford.  "We 
know,"  he  says,  "  from  the  account  of  Sir  Herbert 
Croft,  that  Chatterton  occupied  the  garret — a  room 
looking  out  into  the  street,  as  the  only  garret  in 
this  house  does.  I  remember  this  room  very  well 
as  it  was  twenty-six  years  ago,  soon  after  which  the 
occupier  made  some  alterations  in  it.  It  must 
then  have  been  substantially  in  the  same  condition 


you  could  look  into  the  street  below.  The  roof 
was  very  low — so  low  that  I,  who  am  not  a  tall 
man,  could  hardly  stand  upright  in  it  with  my  hat 
on;  and  it  had  a  very  long  slope,  extending  from 
the  middle  of  the  room  down  to  the  windows.  It 
is  a  curious  fact  that,  in  the  well-known  picture  (the 
'  Death  of  Chatterton,'  by  WaUis)  exhibited  at  Man- 
chester, St.  Paul's  is  visible  through  the  window ;  I 
say  a  singular  fact,  because,  although  this  is  strictly 
in  accordance  with  the  truth,  as  now  known,  the 


548 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Northern  Tributaries  of  Holborn. 


Story  previously  believed  was  that  the  house  was 
opposite,  where  no  room  looking  into  the  street 
could  have  commanded  a  view  of  St.  Paul's.  This, 
however,  could  only  have  been  a  lucky  accident  of 
the  painter's.  About  the  time  I  have ;  mentioned, 
the  tenant  divided  the  garret  into  two  with  a  par- 
tition, carried  the  roof  up, .  making  it  horizontal, 
and  made  some  other  alterations  which  have  gone 
far  to  destroy  the  identity  of  the  room.  It  is  a 
singular  coincidence,  seeing  the  connection  between 
the  names  of  Walpole  and  Chatterton,  that  my 
friend,  Mrs.  Jefford,  the  wife  of  the  now  occupier, 
who  has  resided  there  more  than  twenty  years,  was 
for  some  years  in  the  service  of  Horace  Walpole, 
afterwards  Lo^d  Orford.  She  is  a  very  old  lady, 
and  remembers  Lord  Orford  well,  having  entered 
his  family  as  a  girl,  and  continued  in  it  till  he  died, 
near  the  end  of  the  last  century." 

The  epitaph  adopted  for  Chatterton's  monument 
in  Bristol  was  one  written  by  himself;  and  with  it 
we  leave  him,  to  pass  on  to  a  happier  subject : — 

To  the  Memory  of 

Thomas  Chatterton. 

Reader,  judge  not ;  if  thou  art  a  Christian, 

beheve  that  he  shall  be  judged  by 

a  superior  Power ;  to  that  Power 

alone  he  is  answerable. 

Philip  Yorke,  the  great  Lord  Chancellor  Hard- 
wicke  (bom  1690),  was  articled,  without  a  fee,  it  is 
said,  to  an  attorney  named  Salkeld,  in  Brooke 
Street.  It  was  rather  agaihst  the  wish  of  his 
mother,  who  was  a  rigid  Presbyterian.  She  ex- 
pressed a  strong  wish,  "  that  Philip  should  be  put 
apprentice  to  some  ' honester  trade;'"  and  some- 
times she  declared  her  ambition  to  be  that  "  she 
might  see  his  head  wag  in  the  pulpit."  However, 
an  offer  having  been  made  by  Mr.  Salkeld,  she 
withdrew  her  objections,  and  Philip  was  transferred 
to  the  metroplis,  to  exhibit  "a  rare  instance  of 
great  natural  abilities,  joined  with  an  early  resolu- 
tion to  rise  in  the  world,  and  aided  by  singular 
good  luck."  He  had  received  an  imperfect  educa- 
tion— his  family  being  in  narrow  circumstances — 
and  whilst  applying  to  business  here  with  the  most 
extraordinary  assiduity,  he  employed  every  leisure 
moment  in  endeavouring  to  supply  the  defects  of 
his  early  training.  "All  lawyer's  clerks,"  says  Lord 
Campbell,  in  his  "  Lives  of  the  Lord  Chancellors," 
"  were  then  obliged,  in  a  certain  degree,  to  under- 
stand Latin,  in  which  many  law  proceedings  were 
carried  on  ;  but  he,  not  content  with  being  able  to 
construe  the  '  chirograph  of  a  fine,'*  or  to  draw  a 

•  The  record  of  a  fictitious  suit,  resorted  to  for  the  purpose  of 
docluns  estates  tail,  and  quieting  the  title  to  lands. 


'Nar;*  took  delight  in  perusing  Virgil  and  Cicero, 
and  made  himself  well  acquainted  with  the  other 
more  popular  Roman  classics,  though  he  never 
mastered  the  minutias  of  Latin  prosody,  and,  for 
fear  of  a  false  quantity,  ventured  with  fear  and 
trembling  on  a  Latin  quotation.  Greek  he  hardly 
affected  to  be  acquainted  with." 

By  these  means  he  gained  the  entire  good-will 
and  esteem  of  his  master,  who,  observing  in  him 
abilities  and  apphcation  that  prognosticated  his 
future  eminence,  entered  him  as  a  student  in  the 
Temple,  and  suffered  him  to  dine  in  the  Hall 
during  the  terms.  But  his  mistress,  a  notable 
woman,  thinking  she  might  take  some  liberties 
with  a  gratis  clerk,  used  frequently  to  send  him 
from  his  business  on  family  errands,  and  to  fetch 
in  little  necessaries  from  Covent  Garden  and  other 
markets.  This,  when  he  became  a  favourite  with 
his  master,  and  entrusted  with  his  business  and 
cash,  he  thought  an  indignity,  and  got  rid  of  it  by 
a  stratagem  which  prevented  complaints  or  ex- 
postulation. In  his  accounts  with  his  master  there 
frequently  occurred  "Coach  hire  for  roots  of  celery 
and  turnips  from  Covent  Garden,  and.  a  barrel  of 
oysters  from  the  fishmonger's,  &'c."  This  Mr. 
Salkeld  observed,  and  urging  on  his  wife  the  im- 
propriety and  ill  housewifery  of  such  a  practice, 
put  an  end  to  it. 

There  were  at  that  time  in  Mr.  Salkeld's  office 
several  young  gentlemen  of  good  family  and  con- 
nections, who  had  been'  sent  there  to  be  initiated 
in  the  practical  part  of  the  law.  With  these  Philip 
Yorke,  though  an  articled  clerk,  associated  on  terms 
of  perfect  equality,  and  they  had  the  merit  of  dis- 
covering and  encouraging  his  good  qualities. 

"  But  the  young  man,"  continues  Lord  Campbell, 
"still  had  to  struggle  with  many  difficulties,  and 
he  would  probably  have  been  obliged,  from  penury, 
to  go  upon  the  roll  of  attorneys,  rising  only  to  be 
clerk  to  the  magistrates  at  petty  sessions,  or,  per- 
haps, to  the  dignity  of  town  clerk  of  Dover,  had  it 
not  been  for  his  accidental  introduction  to  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Parker,  which  was  the  foundation  of 
all  his  prosperity  and  greatness.  This  distinguished 
judge  had  a  high  opinion  of  Mr.  Salkeld,  who  was 
respected  by  all  ranks  of  the  profession,  and  asked 
him  one  day  if  he  could  tell  him  of  a  decent  and 
intelligent  person  who  might  assist  as  a  sort  of  law- 
tutor  for  his  sons — to  assist  and  direct  them  in 
their  professional  studies.  The  attorney  eagerly 
recommended  his  clerk,  Philip  Yorke,  who  was 
immediately  retained  in  that  capacity,  and,  giving 
the  highest  satisfaction  by  his  assiduity  and  his 

*  Familiar  contraction  of  Narraiio,  the  "Declaration"  or  Statement 
of  the  plaintiff's  grievance,  or  cause  of  action. 


Northern  Tributaries  of  Holbom.] 


A  NOBLE  REPUTATION. 


549 


obliging  manners,  gained  the  warm  friendship  of 
the   sons,  and  the  weighty,  persevering,  -and  un- 
scrupulous patronage  of  the  father."      In  Brooke 
'  Street 

"  Three  years  he  sat  his  smoky  room  in, 
Pens,  paper,  ink,  and  pounce  consumin' ; " 

but  he  now  bade  adieu  to  that  legal  haunt,  and 
had  a  commodious  chamber  assigned  him  in  Lin- 
coln's Inn  Fields.  "  Released  from  the  drudgery, 
not  only  of  going  to  Covent  Garden  Market,  but  of 
attending  captions  and  serving  process,  he  devoted 
himself  with  fresh  vigour  to  the  abstruse  parts  of 
the  law,  and  to  his  more  liberal  studies.  Farther, 
he  took  great  pains  to  acquire  the  habit  of  correct 
composition  in  English — generally  so  much  ne- 
glected by  English  lawyers  that  many  of  the  most 
eminent  of  them  will  be  found,  in  their  written 
'opinions,'  violating  the  rules  of  grammar,  and, 
without  the  least  remorse,  construing  their  sentences 
in  a  slovenly  manner  for  which  a  schoolboy 
would  be  whipped.  The  Tatler  had  done  much 
to  inspire  a  literary  taste  into  all  ranks.  This 
periodical  had  ceased,  but  being  now  succeeded 
by  the  Spectator,  Philip  Yorke  gave  his  days  and 
nights  to  the  study  of  Addison."  And  now  we 
have  started  him  fairly  in  the  race  for  the  Lord 
Chancellorship,  the  goal  at  which  he  arrived  in 
1736.  He  held  the  office  of  Lord  Chancellor  for 
twenty  years.  His  reputation  as  a  judge  was  very 
high ;  indeed,  so  great  confidence  was  placed  both 
in  his  uprightness  and  in  his  professional  skill, 
that  during  the  whole  of  his  Chancellorship,  not 
one  of  his  decisions  was  set  aside,  and  only  three 
were  tried  on  appeal. 

Greville  Street,  running  off  Brooke  Street,  as  well 
as  Brooke  Street  itself,  derives  its  name  from  Fulke 
Greville,  Lord  Brooke,  "servant  to  Queen  Elizabeth, 
counsellor  to  King  James,  and  friend  to  Sir  Philip 
Sidney."  Brooke  House  was  subsequently  known 
as  Warwick  House,  and  stood,  according  to  Mr. 
Cunningham,  where  Greville  Street  now  stands. 

It  was  in  Brooke  House  that,  on  the  ist  of 
September,  1628,  Lord  Brooke  met  with  his  tragical 
fate.  He  had  been  attended  for  many  years  by 
one  Ralph  Hay^vood,  a  gendematt  by  birth,  who 
thought  that  the  least  his  master  could  do  for  him 
would  be  to  reward  his  long  services  by  bequeath- 
ing him  a  handsome  legacy.  It  fell  out,  however, 
that  Lord  Brooke  not  only  omitted  Haywood's 
name  from  his  will,  but  unfortunately  allowed  him 
to  become  cognisant  of  the  fact.  Irritated  at  this, 
and,  besides,  at  having  been  sharply  reprimanded 
for  some  real  or  imaginary  offence,  Haywood 
determined  to  have  his  revenge.  He  entered  Lord 
Brooke's  chamber,  had  a  violent  dispute  with  him, 


and  ended  by  stabbing  him  in  the  back.  The 
assassin  then  retreated  to  his  own  apartment, 
locked  himself  in,  and  committed  suicide,  killing 
himself  by  the  same  weapon  with  which  he  had 
stabbed  his  master.  Lord  Brooke  survived  only 
a  few  days. 

Lord  Brooke  was  born  at  Beauchamp  Court,  in 
Warwickshire,  in  1554,  and  was  educated  at  Oxford. 
Upon  his  return  to  England,  after  a  Continental 
tour  to  finish  his  education,  he  was  introduced 
to  the  Court  of  Elizabeth  by  his  uncle,  Robert 
Greville.  He  speedily  became  a  favourite  with 
the  Queen,  though  he  did  not  fail  to  experience 
some  of  the  capriciousness,  as  well  as  many  of  the 
delights,  of  royal  favour.  He  and  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
became  fast  friends,  and  when,  in  1586,  the  latter 
unfortunately  closed  his  earthly  career,  he  left  Lord 
Brooke  (then  simply  Mr.  Greville)  one-half  of  his 
books.  The  reign  of  James  I.  opened  happily  for 
him.  At  the  king's  coronation  he  was  made  K.B., 
and  an  office-  which  he  held,  in  connection  with 
the  Council  of  the  Court  of  Marches  of  Wales,  was 
confirmed  to  him  for  life.  In  the  second  year  of 
James  I.,  he  obtained  a  grant  of  Warwick  Castle. 
This  seems  to  have  gratified  him  exceedingly ;  and 
the  castle  being  in  a  ruinous  condition,  he  laid  out 
;^2o,ooo  in  repairing  it.  He  afterwards  occupied 
the  posts  of  Under-Treasurer  and  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer,  and  Lord  of  the  King's  Bedchamber. 
On  the  death  of  King  James,  he  continued  in  the 
privy  council  of  Charles  I.,  in  the  beginning  of 
whose  reign  he  founded  a  history  lecture  in  the 
University  of  Cambridge,  and  endowed  it  with  a 
salary  of  ;^ioo  a  year.  He  did  not  long  survive 
this  last  act  of  generosity ;  for  though  he  was  a 
munificent  patron  of  learning  and  learned  men,  he 
at  last  fell  a  victim  to  the  extraordinary  outrage,  as 
we  have  seen,  of  a  discontented  domestic. 

He  was  the  author  of  several  works;  but  it 
is  for  his  generosity  to  more  successful  authors 
than  himself  that  he  is  chiefly  to  be  remembered. 
"  He  made  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  his  dear  friend,"  says 
Chalmers,  "  the  great  exemplar  of  his  life  in  every- 
thing; and  Sidney  being  often  celebrated  as  the 
patron  of  the  Muses  in  general,  so,  we  are  told. 
Lord  Brooke  desired  to  be  known  to  posterity 
under  no  other  character  than  that  of  Shakespeare's 
and  Ben  Jonson's  master ;  Lord  Chancellor  Egerton 
and  Bishop  Overal's  patron.  His  lordship  also 
obtained  the  office  of  Clarencieux-at-Arms  for  Mr. 
Camden,  who  very  gratefully  acknowledged  it  in  his 
lifetime,  and  at  his  death  left  him  a  piece  of  plate 
in  his  will.  He  also  raised  John  Speed  from  a 
mechanic  to  be  an  historiographer."  His  kindness 
to  Sir  William  Davenant  must  also  be  mentioned. 


5SO 


OLD   AND    NEW   LONDON. 


[Northern  Tributaries  of  Holbom. 


He  took  a  fancy  to  that  poet  when  he  was  very- 
young,  and  received  him  into  his  family,  and  it  is 
quite  likely  that  the  plan  of  the  eariier  plays  of 
Davenant  was  formed  in  Brooke  House;  they  were 
published  shortly  after  Lord  Brooke's  death. 

Gray's  Inn  Lane  is  the  last  northern  tributary 
we  have  to  mention.  It  derives  its  name,  as  one 
might  naturally  enough  conclude,  from  the  adjacent 
inn  of  court.  "  This  lane,"  says  Stow,  "  is  fur- 
nished with  fair  buildings,  and  many  tenements 
on  both  the  sides  leading  to  the  fields  towards 
Highgate  and  Hampstead." 

To  the  novel-reader  Gray's  Inn  Lane  will  be 
always  interesting.  Tom  Jones  entered  the  great 
metropolis  by  its  narrow,  dingy  thoroughfare,  on 
his  way  to  put  up  at  the  "  Bull  and  Gate,"  in 
Holborn.  Jones,  as  well  as  Partridge,  his  com- 
panion, says  Fielding,  "  was  an  entire  stranger  in 
London;  and  as  he  happened  to  arrive  first  in  a 
quarter  of  the  town  the  inhabitants  of  which  have 
very  little  intercourse  with  the  householders  of 
Hanover  or  Grosvenor  Square  (for  he  entered 
through  Gray's  Inn  Lane),  so  he  rambled  about 
some  time  before  he  could  even  find  his  way  to 
those  happy  mansions  where  fortune  segregates 
from  the  vulgar  those  magnanimous  heroes,  the 
descendants  of  ancient  Britons,  Saxons,  or  Danes, 
whose  ancestors,  being  born  in  better  days,  by 
sundry  kinds  of  merit  have  entailed  riches  and 
honour  on  their  posterity." 

It  was  there  he  hoped  to  find  Sophia  Western, 
but  "  after  a  successless  inquiry,  till  the  clock  had 
struck  eleven,  Jones' at  length  yielded  to  the  advice 
of  Partridge,  and  retreated  to  the  '  Bull  and  Gate,' 
in  Holborn,  that  being  the  inn  where  he  had  first 
alighted,  and  where  he  retired  to  enjoy  that  kind  of 
repose  which  usually  attends  persons  in  his  circum- 
stances " — the  unquiet  sleep  that  lovers  have. 

We  can  picture  to  ourselves  the  excitement  with 
which  Fielding's  hero  and  his  companion  first  rode 
down  Gray's  Inn  Lane.  They  had,  an  hour  or  two 
before,  had  an  adventure  with  a  highwayman,  an 
adventure  told  by  the  novehst  in  his  chapter  on 
"What  Happened  to  Mr.  Jones  on  his  Journey 
from  St.  Albans,"  and  which  we  shall  repeat  here 
for  the  benefit  of  those  who,  though  perhaps  on 
nodding  acquaintance  with  the  "  Foundling,"  have 
not  yet  had  leisure  to  listen  to  all  his  long  history. 
"They  were  got  about  two  miles  beyond  Barnet, 
and  it  was  now  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  when  a 
genteel-looking  man,  but  upon  a  very  shabby  horse, 
rode  up  to  Jones,  and  asked  him  whether  he  was 
going  to  London,  to  which  Jones  answered  in  the 
affirmative.  The  gentleman  rephed,  'I  shall  be 
obliged  to  you,  sir,  if  you  will  accept  of  my  com- 


pany ;  for  it  is  very  late,  and  I  am  a  stranger  to  the 
road.'  Jones  readily  complied  with  the  request, 
and  on  they  travelled  together,  holding  that  sort 
of  discourse  which  is  usual  on  such  occasions. 
Of  this,  indeed,  robbery  was  the  principal  topic; 
upon  which  subject  the  stranger  expressed  great 
apprehensions;  but  Jones  declared  he  had  very 
little  to  lose,  and  consequently  as  little  to  fear. 
Here  Partridge  could  not  forbear  putting  in  his 
word.  'Your  honour,'  said  he,  'may  think  it  a 
little,  but  I  am  sure  if  I  had  a  hundred  pound 
bank-note  in  my  pocket  as  you  have,  I  should  be 
very  sorry  to  lose  it.  But,  for  my  part,  I  was  never 
less  afraid  in  my  life  ;  for  we  are  four  of  us  " — 
the  guide  made  the  fourth  of  the  party — "  and  if 
we  all  stand  by  one  another,  the  best  man  in 
England  can't  rob  us.  Suppose  he  should  have  a 
pistol,  he  can  kill  but  one  of  us,  and  a  man  can  die 
but  once ;  that's  my  comfort — a  man  can  die  but 
once.' 

"  Besides  the  reliance  on  superior  numbers — a 
kind  of  valour  which  hath  raised  a  certain  nation 
among  the  moderns  to  a  high  pitch  of  glory — there 
was  another  reason  for  the  extraordinary  courage 
which  Partridge  now  discovered,  for  he  had  at 
present  as  much  of  that  quality  as  was  in  the  power 
of  liquor  to  bestow. 

"  Our  company  were  now  arrived  within  a  mile 
of  Highgate,  when  the  stranger  turned  short  upon 
Jones,  and  puUing  out  a  pistol,  demanded  that 
little  bank-note  which  Partridge  had  mentioned. 

•''Jones  was  at  first  somewhat  shocked  at  this 
unexpected  demand ;  however,  he  presently  recol- 
lected himself,  and  told  the  highwayman  all  the 
money  he  had  in  his  pocket  was  entirely  at  his 
service  ;  and  so  saying,  he  pulled  out  upwards  of 
three  guineas,  and  offered  to  deliver  it,  but  the 
other  answered,  with  an  oath,  that  would  not  do. 
Jones  answered,  coolly,  he  was  very  sorry  for  it, 
and  returned  the  money  into  his  pocket. 

"  The  highwayman  then  threatened,  if  he  did  not 
deliver  the  bank-note  .that  moment,  he  must  shoot 
him ;  holding  the  pistol  at  the  same  time  very  near 
to  his  breast.  Jones  instantly  caught  hold  of  the 
fellow's  hand,  which  trembled  so  that  he  could 
scarce  hold  the  pistol  in  it,  and  turned  the  muzzle 
from  him.  A  struggle  then  ensued,  in  which  the 
former  wrested  the  pistol  from  the  hands  of  his 
antagonist,  and  both  came  from  their  horses  on 
the  ground  together — the  highwayman  on  his  back, 
the  victorious  Jones  upon  him. 

"  The  poor  fellow  now  began  to  implore  mercy 
of  the  conqueror,  for,  to  say  the  truth,  he  was  in 
strength  by  no  means  a  match  for  Jones.  '  Indeed, 
sir,'  says  he,  '  I  could  have  no  intention  to  shoot 


Northern  Tributaries  of  Helborn.]      TOM    JONES   AND    THE    HIGHWAYMAN. 


551 


you,  for  you  will  find  the  pistol  was  not  loaded. 
This  is  the  first  robbery  I  ever  attempted,  and  I 
have  been  driven  by  distress  to  this.' 

"At  this  instant,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  distant,  lay  another  person  on  the  ground, 
roaring  for  mercy  in  a  much  louder  voice  than  the 
highwayman.  This  was  no  other  than  Partridge 
himself,  who,  endeavouring  to  make  his  escape  from 
the  engagement,  had  been  thrown  from  his  horse, 
and  lay  flat  on  his  face,  not  daring  to  look  up,  and 
expecting  every  minute  to  be  shot. 

"  In  this  posture  he  lay  till  the  guide,  who  was 
no  otherwise  concerned  than  for  his  horse,  having 
secured  the  stumbling  beast,  came  up  to  him,  and 
told  him  his  master  had  got  the  better  of  the  high- 
wayman. 

"  Partridge  leaped  up  at  this  news,  and  ran  back 
to  the  place  where  Jones  stood,  with  his  sword 
drawn  in  his  hand,  to  guard  the  poor  fellow,  which 
Partridge  no  sooner  saw,  than  he  cried  out,  /  Kill 
the  villain,  sir  !  Run  him  through  the  body  !  Kill 
him,  this  instant !' 

"  Luckily,  however,  for  the  poor  wretch,  he  had 
fallen  into  more  merciful  hands ;  for  Jones,  having 
examined  the  pistol,  and  found  it  to  be  really  un- 
loaded, began  to  believe  all  the  man  had  told  him 
before  Partridge  came  up — namely,  that  he  was  a 
novice  in  the  trade,  and  that  he  had  been  driven  to 
it  by  the  distress  he  had  mentioned,  the  greatest, 
indeed,  imaginable — that  of  five  hungry  children, 
and  a  wife  lying-in  of  the  sixth,  in  the  utmost  want 
and  misery ;  the  truth  of  all  which  the  highwayman 
most  violently  asserted,  and  offered  to  convince 
Mr.  Jones  of,  if  he  would  take  the  trouble  to  go 
to  his  house,  which  was  not  above  two  miles  off, 
saying  he  desired  no  favour,  but  on  condition  of 
proving  all  he  alleged. 

"Jones  at  first  pretended  that  he  would  take 
the  fellow  at  his  word,  and  go  with  him,  declaring 
that  his  fate  should  depend  entirely  on  the  truth  of 
.his  story.  Upon  this  the  poor  fellow  immediately 
expressed  so  much  alacrity,  that  Jones  was  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  his  veracity,  and  began  now  to 
entertain  sentiments  of  compassion  for  him.  He 
returned  the  fellow  his  empty  pistol,  advised  him 
to  think  of  honester  means  of  reheving  his  distress, 
and  gave  him  a  couple  of  guineas  for  the  imme- 
diate support  of  his  wife  and  family,  adding,  he 
wished  he  had  had  more,  for  his  sake,  for  the 
hundred  pounds  that  had  been  mentioned  was  not 
his  own." 

They  parted,  and  Jones  and  Partridge  rode 
on  towards  London,  conversing  of  highwaymen. 
Jones  threw  out  some  satirical  jokes  on  his  com- 
panion's cowardice  i  but  Partridge  gave  expression 


to  a  new  philosophy  : — "  A  thousand  naked  men," 
said  he,  "  are  nothing  to  one  pistol ;  for  though,  it 
is  true,  it  will  kill  but  one  at  a  single  discharge,  yet 
who  can  tell  but  that  one  may  be  himself?" 

Among  the  famous  residents  in  Gray's  Inn  Lane 
were  Hampden  and  Pym.  It  was  here  that  they 
held  their  consultations,  when  the  matter  of  the 
ship-money  was  pleaded  in  the  Star-Chamber. 

Three  poets  are  also  to  be  mentioned  in  con- 
nection with  the  lane.  The  first  of  these  is  James 
Shirley,  the  poet  and  dramatist.  This  once  well- 
known  writer  was  educated  at  St.  John's  College, 
Oxford,  and  was  destined  for  the  Church.  Arch- 
bishop Laud  advised  him  against  carrying  out  the 
design,  the  reason  being,  according  to  Shirley's 
biographer,  that  the  archbishop,  who  was  a  rigid 
observer  of  the  canons  of  the  Church,  had  noticed 
that  the  future  poet  had  a  large  mole  on  one  of  his 
cheeks.  Notwithstanding  this,  however,  Shirley 
eventually  took  orders,  and  obtained  a  curacy  near 
St.  Albans.  He  would  have  been  better  to  have 
remained  as  he  was,  for  his  religious  opinions  be- 
came unsettled,  and  leaving  the  Church  of  England, 
he  soon  went  over  to  Rome.  After  trying  to  main- 
tain himself  by  teaching,  he  made  his  way  to 
London,  took  up  his  abode  in  -Gray's  Inn  Lane, 
and  became  a  writer  for  the  stage. 

Happily,  he  Hved  in  a  golden  age  for  dramatic 
genius.  Charles  I.  appreciated  him,  and  invited 
him  to  court,  and  Queen  Henrietta  Maria  conferred 
on  him  an  appointment  in  her  household.  But 
soon  the  Civil  War  broke  out.  The  poet  then 
bade  adieu  to  wife  and  children,  and  accompanied 
the  Duke  of  Newcastle  in  his  campaigns.  On  the 
failure  of  the  king's  cause  he  returned  to  London, 
ruined  and  desponding.  His  patron  had  perished 
on  the  scaffold,  and  his  occupation  as  a  play- 
wright was  being  denounced  from  every  pulpit  in 
the  land.  He  did  the  most  sensible  thing  possible 
in  the  circumstances — he  resumed  his  occupation 
of  schoolmaster.  His  success  was  considerable; 
and  he  showed  his  attention  to  his  profession  by 
pubUshing  several  works  on  grammar. 

After  a  time  came  the  Restoration,  and  with  it 
the  revival  of  his  plays,  but  it  brought  no  long 
career  of  prosperity  to  the  poet.  His  death  was 
remarkable.  His  house,  which  was  at  that  time  in 
Fleet  Street,  was  burned  to  the  ground  in  the  Great 
Fire  of  1666,  and  he  was  forced,  with  his  wife,  to 
retreat  to  the  suburbs,  where  the  fright  and  loss  so 
afiected  them  both,  that  they  died  witliin  some  hours 
of  each  other,  and  were  buried  in  the  same  grave. 

The  second  poet  to  be  noticed  is  John  Ogilby, 
whom  the  late  Mr.  Jesse  terms  "  unfortunate,"  but 
whom   Mr.  Chalmers  characterises  by  the  juster 


552 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON, 


[Northern  Tributaries  of  Holbotn. 


terms  of  "  a  very  industrious  adventurer  in  literary- 
speculation,"  and  "an  enterprising  and  honest 
man."  He  was  in  his  youth  bound  apprentice  to 
a  dancing-master  in  Gray's  Inn  Lane.  In  this  line 
of  life  he  soon  made  money  enough  to  purchase 
his  discharge  from  his  apprenticeship.  His  talents 
as  a  dancer  led  to  his  introduction  at ,  court ;  but 
unluckily,  at  a  masque  given  by  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, in  executing  a  caper,  he  fell,  and  so 
severely  sprained  one  of  the  sinews  of  his  leg  as 
to  be  incapacitated  from  such  lively  exhibitions 
for  the  future.  He  had,  however,  a  resource  still 
left  for  him,  as  he  continued  to  teach  dancing. 
After  a  time  he  became  author  by  profession,  and 
wrote,  translated,  and  edited  all  the  rest  of  his 
days.  '  Towards  the  close  of  his  career  he  was 
appointed  cosmographer  and  geographic  printer  to 
Charles  11. 

The  third  and  last  poet  is  the  Rev.  John  Lang- 
horne,  known  to  every  school-boy  and  girl  for  his 
lines  "  To  a  Redbreast,"  beginning — 
"  Little  bird  with  bosom  red, 
Welcome  to  my  humble  shed." 

His  favourite  haunt  was  the  "Peacock,"  in  this 
lane,  a  house  celebrated  in  the  last  century  for  its 
Burton  g,le.  It  is  a  pity  that  Langhorne  was  too 
fond  of  the  pleasant  beverage :  over-indulgence 
in  it  is  said  to  have  hastened  his  end.  Chalmers 
certainly  suggests  a  lame  excuse  for  his  tippling 
habits — that  he  had  twice  lost  his  wife.  Langhorne 
deserves  remembrance,  if  for  nothing  else  than  the 
excellent  translation ,  of  Plutargh's  "Lives,"  which 
he  executed  in  company  with  his  brother  WilHam, 
and  which  has  become  so  universally  popular.  To 
judge  from  his  writings,  he  was  a  man  of  an  amiable 
,  disposition,  a  friend  to  religion  and  morality  ;  and, 
though  a  wit,  we  never  find  him  descending  to 
grossness  or  indehcacy.  He  was  born  in  1735,  and 
died  on  the  ist  of  April,  1779. 

Numerous  indeed  are  the  spots  in  Gray's  Inn 
Lane  about  which  some  memory  hovers,  or  con- 
cerning which  some  good  anecdote  might  be  un- 
earthed. Towards  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 
century  there  was  a  public-house  in  this  lane  called 
the  "Blue  Lion;"  but  the  lion  being, the  work  of 
an  artist  who  had  not  given  very  deep  study  to 
the  personal  appearance  of  the  monarch  of  beasts, 
the  establishment  was  commonly  spoken  of  by  its 
humorous  frequenters  as  the  "  Blue  Cat."  It  bore 
no  good  character.  A  Mr.  Francis  Head,  in  giving 
evidence,  in  1835,  before  a  Committee  of  the  House 
of  Commons,  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  state  of 
education  of  the  people  of,  England  and  Wales, 
said,  "  I  have  seen  the  landlord  of  this  place  come 
into  the  long  room  with  a  lump  of  silver  in  his 


hand,  which  he  had  melted  for  the  thieves,  and 
paid  them  for  it.  There  was  no  disguise  about  it ; 
it  was  done  openly." 

Walking  up  Gray's  Inn  Lane,  the  first  turning 
one  comes  to  on  the  right  is  Fox  Court.  There  is 
nothing  attractive  about  its  outward  appearance, 
but,  like  nearly  every  nook  and  corner  of  old 
London,  it  has  its  own  story  to  tell.  "In  this 
wretched  alley,"  says  Mr.  Jesse,  "  the  profligate 
Countess  of  Macclesfield  was  delivered  of  her 
illegitimate  child,  Richard  Savage.  In  '  the  Earl 
of  Macclesfield's  Case,'  presented  to  the  House  of 
Lords,  will  be  found  some  curious  particulars  re- 
specting the  accouchement  of  the  countess,  and  the 
birth  of  the  future  poet.  From  this  source  it 
appears  that  Anne,  Countess  of  Macclesfield,  under 
the  name  of  Madame  Smith,  was  delivered  of 
a  male  child  in  Fox  Court,  Holbom,  by  a  Mrs. 
Wright,  a  midwife,  on  Saturday,  the  i6th  of 
January,  1697,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning;  that 
the  child  was  baptised  on  the  Monday  following, 
and  registered  by  Mr.  Burbridge,  assistant  curate  of 
St.  Andrew's,  Holbom,  as  the  son  of  John  Smith ; 
that  it  was  christened,  on  Monday,  the  i8th  of 
February,  in  Fox  Court,  and  that,  from  the  privacy 
maintained  on  the  occasion,  it  was  supposed  by 
Mr.  Burbridge  to  be  a  'by-blow.'  During  her 
delivery.  Lady  Macclesfield  wore  a  mask.  By  the 
entry  of  the  birth  in  the  parish  register  of  St. 
Andrew's,  it  appears  that  the  child's  putative  father, 
Lord  Rivers,  gave  his  son  his  own  Christian  name  : 
'January  1696-7,  Richard,  son  of  John  Smith  and 
Mary,  in  Fox  Court,  in  Gray's  Inn  Lane,  baptised 
the  18th.'" 

The  life  of  Savage  was  a  singular  one,  and,  as 
narrated  by  his  intimate  friend.  Dr.  Johnson,  has 
attracted  great  interest  from  all  classes  of  readers. 
After  undergoing  experiences  of  the  strangest 
diversity,  at  one  time  living  in  the  most  lavish 
luxury,  at  another  on  the  brink  of  starvation;  a 
successful  poet  to-day,  and  standing  in  the  felon's 
dock  on  a  charge  of  murder  to-morrow,  he  died 
in  1743,  in  the  debtors'  prison  at  Bristol,  ex- 
hibiting, as  Johnson  observes,  with  characteristic 
solemnity  of  antithesis,  a  lamentable  proof  that 
"negligence  and  irregularity,  long  continued,  will 
make  knowledge  useless,  wit  ridiculous,  and  genius 
contemptible." 

Fox  Court  opens  into  Brooke  Street,  and  Mr. 
Cunningham  points  out  this  strange  coincidence 
between  the  career  of  Savage,  and  that  of  the  equally 
unfortunate  Chatterton  :  "  Savage  was  born  in  Fox 
Court,  Brooke  Street ;  Chatterton  died  in  Brooke 
Street;  Savage  died  in  Bristol,  and  Chatterton  was 
born  in  Bristol." 


Holbom  Inns  of  Court.] 


GRAY'S  INN. 


553 


THE   HALT,    OF   GRAY'S   INW. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 
THE   HOLBORN    INNS    OF   COURT   AND   CHANCERY. 

Gray's  Inn — Its  History — The  Hall — A  Present  from  Queen  Elizabeth— The  Chapel — The  Librarj' — Divisions  of  the  Inn — Gray's  Inn  Walks — 
Bacon  on  Gardens — Observing  the  Fashions — Flirts  and  P'lirtations — Old  Recollections — Gray's  Inn  Gateway — Two  Old  Booksellers — Alms 
for  the  Poor — Original  Orders — Eggs  and  Green  Sauce — Sad  Livery — Hats  Off! — Vows  of  Celibacy — Mootings  in  Inns  of  Court — Joyous 
Revels — Master  Roo  in  Trouble — Rebellious  Students — A  Brick  Fight — An  Address  to  the  King — Sir  Williani  Gascoigne — A  Prince  im- 
prisoned— Thomas  Cromwell — Lord  Burleigh — A  Call  to  Repentance — Simon  Fish — Sir  Nicholas  Bacon — Lord  Bacon — A  Gorgeous  Pro- 
cession— An  Honest  Welsh  Judge — Bradshaw — Sir  Thomas  Holt — A  Riot  suppressed — Sir  Samuel  Romilly. 


HoLBORN  has  long  been  famous  as  a  law  quarter 
of  London.  In  it  are  situated  Gray's  Inn,  Staple 
Inn,  and  Barnard's  Inn,  together  with  what  used 
to  be  the  old  legal  haunts  of  Thavie's  Inn  and 
Furnival's  Inn.  Of  these  we  have  now  to  speak, 
and  the  most  important  of  them  demands  the 
earliest  and  deserves  a  large  share  of  our  attention. 
Gray's  Inn,  on  the  north  side  of  Holborn,  and 


to  the  west  of  Gray's  Inn  Lane,  is  the  fourth  Inn  of    possession  of  the  Prior  and  Convent  of  East  Sheen 


Court  in  importance  and  size.     It  derives  its  name' 
from  the  noble  family  of  Gray  of  Wilton,  wliose 
96— Vol.  II. 


residence  it  originally  was.  Edmund,  Lord  Gray 
of  Wilton,  in  August,  1505,  by  indenture  of  bargain 
and  sale,  transferred  to  Hugh  Denny,  Esq.,  "  the 
manor  of  Portpoole,  otherwise  called  '  Gray's  Inn,' 
four  messuages,  four  gardens,  the  site  of  a  windmill, 
eight  acres  of  land,  ten  shillings  of  free  rent,  and 
the  advowson  of  the  Chauntry  of  Portpoole." 
From  Denny's  hands  the  manor  passed  into  the 


in  Surrey,  an  ecclesiastical  establishment  celebrated 
as  having  been  the  nursery  of  Cardinal  Pole,  and 


SS4 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbom  Inns  of  Court. 


many  other  distinguished  churchmen,  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  By  the  Convent  the  mansion  of 
Portpoole  was  leased  to  certain  students  of  law, 
who  paid,  by  way  of  rent,  ;^6  13s.  4d.  per  annum. 
This  arrangement  held  good  till  that  lively  time 
when  Henry  VIII.  seized  all  the  monastic  property 
he  could  lay  hands  on.  The  benchers  of  Gray's 
Inn  were  thenceforth  entered  in  the  king's  books 
as  the  fee-farm  tenants  of  the  Crown,  and  paid 
annually  into  the  Exchequer  the  same  rent  as  was 
formerly  due  to  the  monks  of  Sheen.  The  domain 
of  the  society  extends  over  a  large  tract  of  ground 
between  Holbom  and  King's  Road. 

The  name  of  Portpoole  still  survives  in  Portpool 
Lane,  which  runs  from  the  east  side  of  Gray's  Inn 
Lane  into  Leather  Lane  ;  and  Windmill  Hill  still 
exists  to  point  out  the  site  of  the  windmill  men- 
tioned in  the  deed  of  transfer  we  have  just  quoted. 

The  old  buildings  of  Gray's  Inn  are  spoken  of 
by  a  contemporary  writer  as  boasting  neither  of 
beauty,  uniformity,  nor  capacity.  They  had  been 
erected  by  different  persons,  each  of  whom  followed 
the  dictates  of  his  own  taste,  and  the  accommoda- 
tion was  so  scanty  that  even  the  ancients  of  the 
house  had  to  lodge  double. 

The  Hall  of  the  Inn  was  begun  to  be  built  in 
the  reign  of  Queen  Mary.  It  was  finished  in  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth  (1560),  and  cost  ^863  los.  8d. 
In  appearance  the  Hall  is  acknowledged  to  be  "  a 
very  handsome  chamber,  little  inferior  to  Middle 
Temple  Hall,  and  its  carved  wainscot  and  timber 
roof  render  it  much  more  magnificent  than  the 
Inner  Temple,  or  Lincoln's  Inn  Hall."  Its  windows 
are  richly  emblazoned  with  the  armorial  bearings 
of  Burleigh,  Lord  Verulam,  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon, 
Judge  Jenkins,  and  others.  "  The  roof  of  oak," 
we  are  told  by  the  historian  of  the  "  Inns  of  Court 
and  Chancery,"  "  is  divided  into  six  bays,  or  com- 
partments, by  seven  arched  and  moulded  Gothic 
ribs  or  principals.  The  spandrels,  or  spaces,  are 
divided  by  upright  timbers,  with  a  horizontal 
cornice  in  the  centre.  At  the  extremity  of  the 
projecting  spandrels  is  a  carved  pendant  ornament, 
partaking  of  the  nature  of  an  entablature.  The 
screen  of  this  Hall  is  supported  by  six  pillars  of 
the  Tuscan  order,  with  caryatides  supporting  the 
cornice,  in  accordance  with  the  style  of  ornament 
prevalent  at  that  time.  The  Hall  is  also  lighted  by 
a  handsome  louvre,  on  which  was  formerly  a  dial, 
with  the  motto  Lux  Dei,  lex  Dei.  Paintings  of 
King  Charles  I.,  King  Charles  II.,  King  James  II., 
Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  Lord  Bacon,  and  Lord  Ray- 
mond— Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the  King's  Bench — 
hang  upon  the  walls." 

There   is   a   tradition  in   Gray's   Inn'  that  the 


Bench  tables  in  the  Hall  were  the  gift  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  and  that  Her  Majesty  once  honoured 
the  society  by  partaking  of  a  magnificent  banquet 
here.  "  On  every  grand  day,"  says  Mr.  Pearce,  in 
his  "Guide  to  the  Inns  of  Court  and  Chancery" 
(1855),  "  the  glorious,  pious,  and  immortal  memory 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  is  drunk  with  much  formality. 
Three  benchers  rise  to  drink  the  toast ;  when  they 
sit  down,  three  others  rise ;  and  in  this  manner  the 
toast  passes  down  the  Bar  table,  and  from  thence 
to  the  Students'  table.  It  deserves  to  be  remarked, 
too,  that  this  is  the  only  toast  drunk  in  the  Hall, 
and  from  the  pleasure  which  Elizabeth  derived 
from  witnessing  the  performances  of  the  gentlemen 
of  Gray's  Inn  at  her  own  palaces,  and  the  dis- 
tinction with  which  she  on  several  occasions 
received  them,  it  seems  probable  that  the  tradition 
to  which  reference  has  been  made  is  correct, 
more  especially  as  the  Cecils,  the  Bacons,  the 
Sidneys,  and  other  illustrious  personages  of  her 
court,  were  members  of  this  house." 

The  Chapel  of  Gray's  Inn  is  of  modem  erection. 
Likely  enough,  it  was  built  on  the  site  of  the 
"  Chauntry  of  Portpoole  "  mentioned  in  the  grant 
to  Hugh  Denny.  Divine  service  was  of  old  per- 
formed here  daily,  and  masses  sung  for  the  repose 
of  the  soul  of  John,  son  of  Reginald  de  Gray — 
certain  lands  having  been  left  for  this  purpose 
to  the  Prior  and  Convent  of  St.  Bartholomew's, 
Smithfield. 

The  Chapel  was  an  important  institution  in  the 
olden  time.  All  gentlemen  of  the  Inn  were  ordered, 
in  1600,  to  frequent  it  regularly  at  service-time,  as 
well  as  at  sermons,  and  to  receive  the  communion 
every  term  yearly,  if  they  were  in  commons  or 
resided  in  the  house.  If  they  omitted  to  do  so, 
they  forfeited  3s.  4d.  for  every  time  they  neglected 
to  receive  the  communion;  and  if  they  did  not 
receive  it  at  least  once  a  year,  they  were  liable  to 
be  expelled. 

The  Library  of  the  Inn  was  rebuilt  and  enlarged 
in  1839-41.  It  consists  of  three  handsome  apart- 
ments, ceiled  and  wainscoted  with  oak.  One  oi 
these  is  appropriated  to  the  benchers,  and  the  two 
larger  rooms  to  the  barristers  and  students  of  the 
society.  In  the  principal  room  is  a  bust  of  Lord 
Bacon.  The  Library  contains  a  complete  series 
of  reports,  from  the  commencement  of  the  year- 
books to  the  present  day,  with  a  large  collection  of 
valuable  legal  treatises  and  authorities. 

The  Inn  was  originally  divided  into  four  courts — 
viz..  Coney  Court ;  Holbom  Court,  which  lay  to 
the  south  of  the  Hall ;  Field  Court,  between  Ful- 
wood's  Rents  and  the  shady  Walks  of  the  Inn ; 
and  Chapel  Court,  between  Coney  Court  and  the 


Holbom  Inns  of  CouK.l 


THE  CHOICEST  SOCIETY. 


555 


Chapel.  Now  it  comprises  South  Square,  Gray's 
Inn  Square,  Field  Court,  Gray's  Inn  Place,  Raymond 
Buildings,  Verulam  Buildings,  and  the  Gardens. , 
The  chambers  are  well  adapted  for  study  and  retire- 
ment ;  they  are  commodious,  airy,  and  quiet,  and 
free  from  the  fogs  which,  in  the  winter  season, 
afflict  the  region  near  the  river.  The  whole  Inn 
is  extra-parochial. 

Gray's  Inn  Walks,  or  Gray's  Inn  Gardens,  form 
one  of  the  most  interesting  features  connected  with 
this  learned  region.  In  Charles  II. 's  time,  and  in 
the  days  of  the  Tatler  and  Spectator,  Gray's  Inn 
Walks  formed  a  fashionable  promenade  on  pleasant 
summer  evenings.  As  late  as  1633  one  could 
obtain  from  this  spot  a  delightful  and  uninterrupted 
view  of  the  rising  ground  of  Highgate  and  Hamp- 
stead. 

Gray's  Inn  Gardens  had  their  principal  entrance 
from  Holbom  by  Fulwood's  Rents,  then  a  fashion- 
able locality — very  unlike  what  it  is  now. 

"  This  spot,"  says  the  late  Mr.  J.  H.  Jesse,  "  was 
a  favourite  resort  of  the  immortal  Bacon  during 
the  period  he  resided  in  Gray's  Inn.  It  appears, 
by  the  books  of  the  society,  that  he  planted  the 
greater  number  of  the  elm-trees  which  still  afford 
their  refreshing  shade ;  and  also  that  he  erected  a 
summer-house  on  a  small  mound  on  the  terrace, 
where  it  is  not  improbable  that  he  often  meditated, 
and  passed  his  time  in  hterary  composition.  From 
the  circumstance  of  Lord  Bacon  dating  his  essays 
from  his  '  Chambers  in  Graie's  Inn,'  it  is  not 
improbable  that  the  .charming  essay  in  which  he 
dwells  so  enthusiastically  on  the  pleasure  of  a 
garden  was  composed  in,  and  inspired  by,  the 
floral  beauties  of  this  his  favourite  haunt.  '  God 
Almighty,'  he  says,  '  first  planted  a  garden ;  and, 
indeed,  it  is  the  purest  of  human  pleasures.  It  is 
the  greatest  refreshment  to  the  spirits  of  man, 
without  which  buildings  and  palaces  are  but  gross 
handy-works.'  And  he  adds,  '  Because  the  breath 
of  flowers  is  far  sweeter  in  the  air — where  it  comes 
and  goes  like  the  warbling  of  music — than  in  the 
hand,  therefore  nothing  is  more  fit  for  that  delight 
than  to  know  what  be  the  flowers  and  plants  that 
do  best  perfume  the  air.'  As  late  as  the  year 
1754  there  was  standing  in  the  Gardens  of  Gray's 
Inn  an  octagonal  seat,  covered  with  a  roof,  which 
had  been  erected  by  Lord  Bacon  to  the  memory 
of  his  friend,  Jeremiah  Bettenham." 

Howell,  writing  from  Venice,  June  5th,  162 1,  to 
a  friend  at  Gray's  Inn,  says,  "  I  would  I  had  you 
here  with  a  wish,  and  you  would  not  desire  in  haste 
to  be  at  Gray's  Inn  ;  though  I  hold  your  Walks  to 
be  the  pleasantest  place  about  London,  and  that 
you  have  there  the  choicest  society." 


Our  often-quoted  Pepys  had  an  eye  to  the 
"choicest  society,"  and  on  the  4th  of  May,  i66?, 
we  find  him  coming  here  after  church-time,  with 
his  wife,  to  observe  the  fashions  of  the  ladies; 
the  reason  being  that  Mrs.  Pepys  was  just  then 
bent  on  making  some  new  dresses.  Here  pretty 
Fanny  Butler  was,  in  her  brief  day,  the  belle  of  the 
ground,  and  perhaps  Pepys  was  thinking  about 
her  quite  as  much  as  about  the  latest  fashions. 
He  used  to  express  his  admiration  at  Fanny's 
beauty  with  a  fervid  candour  by  no  means  agree- 
able to  the  fair  young  wife  on  his  own  arm. 

Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  is  mentioned  by  Addison 
as  walking  here  on  the  terrace,  "hemming  twice  or 
thrice  to  himself  with  great  vigour,  for  he  loves  to 
clear  his  pipes  in  good  air  (to  make  use  of  his  own 
phrase),  and  is  not  a  little  pleased  with  any  one 
who  takes  notice  of  the  strength  which  he  still 
exerts  in  his  morning  hems." 

In  the  old  dramatists  we  not  unfrequently  come 
across  Gray's  Inn  Walks  as  a  place  of  fashionable 
rendezvous.  For  example,  in  Dryden's  Sir  Martin 
Mar-all  (1C68)  there  is  this  reference  to  Gray's 
Inn  Walks  : — 

"Sir  John  Shallaxa.  But  where  did  you  appoint  to  meet 
him? 

Mrs.  Millisent.     In  Gray's  Inn  Walks.'' 

And  in  the  il/w^r,  by  Thomas  Shadwell  (1672), 
Cheatly  says :  "  He  has  fifteen  hundred  pounds 
a  year,  and  his  love  is  honourable  too.  Now,  if 
your  ladyship  will  be  pleased  to  walk  in  Gray's  Inn 
Walks  with  me,  I  will  design  it  so  that  you  shall 
see  him,  and  he  shall  never  know  on't." 

Walking  in  these  Gardens,  we  may  thus  call  up 
many  old  associations.  In  addition  to  those  just 
mentioned,  we  may  picture  to  ourselves  how  those 
trees  once  shaded  from  the  hot  summer  sun  young 
men  who  loitered  here  with  Butler  and  Cleveland. 
We  can  imagine  Mr.  Palmer,  of  Gray's  Inn— the 
ingenious  mechanician— pacing  up  and  down  these 
broad  Walks,  considering  the  qualities  of  the  last 
addition  to  his  collection  of  "telescopes  and  mathe- 
matical instruments,  choice  pictures,  and  other 
curiosities ; "  or  devising  some  new  coatrivance  for 
the  improvement  of  that  marvellous  clock  which 
roused  the  diarist's  wonder  and  enthusiasm;  or 
listening  to  John  Evelyn's  description  of  the 
museum  of  natural  curiosities  belonging  to  Mr. 
Charlton,  of  the  Middle  Temple,  which  collection 
eventually  passed,  by  purchase,  into  the  hands  of 
Sir  Hans  Sloane. 

The  Gardens  became,  in  time,  the  resort  of 
dangerous  classes  ;  expert  pickpockets  and  plau- 
sible ring-droppers  found  easy  prey  there  on 
crowded  days ;  and  there  were  so  many  meetings 


SS6 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[Holborn  Inns  of  Court 


of  clandestine  lovers,  that  it  was  thought  expedient 
to  close  them,  except  at  stated  hours. 

Many  a  married  barrister,  long  ago,  had  his  wife 
and  family  residing  with  him  within  the  precincts  of 
the  Inns  of  Court.  When  that  was  the  case,  the 
children  must  have  been  bound  over  to  keep  the 
peace,  and  the  lady  strictly  forbidden,  during  busi- 
ness hours,  to  practise  on  the  piano.  "  Under  the 
trees  of  Gray's  Inn  Gardens,"  says  Mr.  Jeafifreson 
(1867),  "may  be  seen  two  modest  tenements,  each 
of  them  comprising  some  six  or  eight  rooms  and  a 
vestibule.  At  the  present  rime  they  are  occupied 
as  offices  by  legal  practitioners ;  and  many  a  day 
has  passed  since  womanly  skill  decorated  their 
windows  with  flowers  and  muslin  curtains ;  but  a 
certain  venerable  gentleman,  to  whom  the  writer  of 
this  page  is  indebted  for  much  information  about 
the  lawyers  of  the  last  century,  can  remember  when 
each  of  those  cottages  was  inhabited  by  a  barrister, 
his  young  wife,  and  three  or  four  lovely  children." 

The  origin  of  Gray's  Inn  Gateway  we  may  read 
of  in  the  following  extract  from  an  old  author  of 
the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century  : — "  In 
this  present  age  there  hath  been  great  cost  be- 
stowed therein  upon  faire  buildings,  and  very  lately 
the  gentlemen  of  this  House  [Gray's  Inn]  purchased 
a  Messuage  and  a  Curtillage,  scituate  uppon  the 
south  side  of  this  House,  and  thereuppon  have 
erected  a  fayre  Gate,  and  a  Gate-house,  for  a  more 
convenient  and  more  honourable  passage  into  the 
high  street  of  Holborn,  whereof  this  House  stood 
in  much  neede;  for  the  other  former  Gates  were 
rather  Posterns  than  Gates. 

The  celebrated  bookseller,  Jacob  Tonson,  had 
his  shop  here,  Within  Gray's  Inn  Gate,  next  Gray's 
Inn  Lane.  Here  he  pubHshed  Addison's  "  Cam- 
paign ;"  and  from  this  place  also  he  wrote  the 
following  letter  to.  Pope  :  — 

"  Gray's  Inn  Gate,  April  20th,  1706. 
"  Sir, — I  have  lately  seen  a  pastoral  of  yours,  in  Mr. 
Walsh's  and  Congreve's  hands,  which  is  extremely  fine,  and 
is  approved  of  by  the  best  judges  in  poetry.  I  remember 
I  have  foi-merly  seen  you  at  my  shop,  and  am  sorry  I  did 
not  improve  my  acquaintance  with  you.  If  you  design  your 
poem  for  the  press,  no  person  shall  be  more  careful  in  the 
printing  of  it,  nor  no  one  can  give  greater  encouragement  to 
it  than,  sir,  yours,  &c.,  "Jacob  Tonson." 

Tonson  was  the  second  son  of  Jacob  Tonson,  a 
barber-chirurgeon  in  Holborn.  He  was  born  in 
the  year  1656  ;  and  by  his  father's  will,  which  was 
executed  July  loth,  1668,  and  proved  in  the  follow- 
ing November,  he  and  his  elder  brother,  Richard, 
and  their  three  sisters,  were  each  to  receive  the  sum 
of  ;^ioo  on  their  attaining  the  age  of  twenty-one 
— the  money  to  be  paid  in  Gray's  Inn  Hall.  On 
the  sth  of  June,  1670,  we  find  him  bound  appren- 


tice for  eight  years  to  a  bookseller  called  Thomas 
Basset,  and  on  the  20th  of  December,  1677,  he 
was  admitted  a  freeman  of  the  Stationers'  Company. 
His  first  shop  was  in  Chancery  Lane,  very  near 
Fleet  Street,  and  was  distinguished  by  the  sign  of 
the  "Judge's  Head."  About  1697  he  removed  to 
Gray's  Inn,  where  he  remained  till  about  1712, 
when  he  removed  to  a  house  in  the  Strand,  over 
against  Catherine  Street,  and  here  he  chose 
Shakespeare's  head  for  a  sign.  He  died,  very  rich, 
on  the  i8th  of  March  1735-6. 

The  successor  of  Tonson  in  the  Gray's  Inn  shop 
was  another  eminent  bookseller,  Thomas  Osborne, 
who  is  oftener  than  once  introduced  in  the 
"  Dunciad."  Pope  makes  him  contend  for  the  prize 
among  the  booksellers,  and  prove  the  successful 
competitor : — 

'  Osborne,  through  perfect  modesty  o'ercome, 
Crowned  with  the  jorden,  walks  contented  home.'' 

Osborne  is  perhaps  best  remembered  by  his  well- 
known  feud  with  Dr.  Johnson.  Of  this  Boswell 
writes :  "  It  has  been  confidently  related  with  many 
embellishments,  that  Johnson  one  day  knocked 
Osborne  down  in  his  shop  with  a  folio,  and  put  his 
foot  upon  his  neck.  The  simple  truth  I  had  from 
Johnson  himself — '  Sir,  he  was  impertinent  to  me, 
and  I  beat  him  ;  but  it  was  not  in  his  shop,  it  was 
in  my  own  chamber.' "  Johnson,  in  his  life  of  Pope, 
speaks  of  Osborne  as  a  man  entirely  destitute  of 
shame — without  sense  of  any  disgrace  but  that  of 
poverty.  He  is  said  to  have  combined  the  most 
lamentable  ignorance  with  extraordinary  expertness 
in  all  the  petty  tricks  of  his  trade. 

Alms  were  distributed  thrice  a  week  at  Gray's 
Inn  Gate,  for  the  better  relief  of  the  poor  in  Gray's 
Inn  Lane,  inis87,the29th  year  of  EHzabeth's  reign. 
The  alms  consisted  of  the  broken  victuals  of  the 
Hall  table.  The  third  butler  was  instructed  to  see 
that  due  consideration  was  had  to  the  poorest  sort 
of  aged  and  impotent  persons,  and  in  case  the 
panyer-man  and  under-cook  should  appropriate  any 
of  the  said  alms  to  themselves,  they  were  allowed, 
by  way  of  lessening  the  temptation,  three  loaves 
a-piece.  The  panyer-raan  here  mentioned  was  a 
waiter.  The  Inner  Temple  Hall  waiters  are  still 
called  panniers  —  according  to  Mr.  Timbs,  from 
Xhepanarii  who  attended  the  Knights  Templars. 

Some  of  the  orders  for  the  government  of  Gray's 
Inn  arc  very  curious — a  remark,  however,  which 
might  be  applied  to  the  regulations  of  all  the  other 
Inns.  Let  us  notice  a  few  of  the  more  remark- 
able of  these  orders,  as  given  by  Herbert  in  his 
"Antiquities  of  the  Inns  of  Court  and  Chancery" 
(1804).  .  ■ 

At  a  pension,  or  meeting,  held,  in  the  beginning 


Holbom  Inns  of  Court.] 


LEGAL   CURIOSITIES. 


557 


of  the  reign  of  King  James,  it  was  intimated  to 
be  the  royal  pleasure  that  none  but  gentlemen  of 
descent  should  be  admitted  to  the  society.  The 
names  of  all  candidates  were  therefore  ordered  to 
be  delivered  to  the  Bench,  that  inquiries  might  be 
made  as  to  their  quality. 

In  tlie  reign  of  Edward  VI.  it  was  ordered  that 
double  readers  were  to  have  in  commons  only  two 
servants,  and  single  readers  one.  If  a  reader  was 
elected,  and  he  refused  to  serve,  he  had  to  forfeit 
ten  pounds.  For  his  trouble  he  was  allowed  thirty- 
five  shillings  for  a  hogshead  of  wine,  and  he  fared 
well  also  as  regards  venison.  In  28  Elizabeth  (6 
Junii)  the  reader  for  that  summer  was  allowed  "  for 
every  week  ten  bucks,  and  no  more."  In  16 15  the 
House  allowed  the  then  two  readers  two  hogsheads 
of  wine,  thirty  bushels  of  flour,  thirty  pounds  of 
pepper,  and  a  "reward  for  thirty  bucks  and  two 
stags,  which  were  to  be  equally  divided  between 
them." 

To  ensure  the  orderly  management  of  the  public 
table,  many  regulations  were  made.  In  1581  there 
was  a  cupboard-agreement  regarding  Easter  Day, 
from  which  we  learn  that  the  members  who  came 
to  breakfast  after  service  and  communion  were  to 
have  "  eggs  and  green  sauce  "  at  the  cost  of  the 
House,  and  that  "  no  calves'-heads  were  to  be  pro- 
vided by  the  cook."  At  dinner  and  supper-time  all 
were  to  be  on  their  good  behaviour.  No  gentleman 
was  to  be  served  out  of  his  proper  course ;  and  by  a 
regulation  made  in  1598,  if  any  one  "  took  meat  by 
'  strong  hand '  from  such  as  should  serve  him,  he 
was  to  be  put  out  of  commons  ipso  facto." 

In  the  sixteenth  year  of  Elizabeth,  the  subject  of 
dress  was  discussed,  and  an  order  was  made  "  that 
every  man  of  this  society^ should  frame  and  reform 
himself  for  the  manner  of  his  apparel,  according  to 
the  proclamation  theo  last  set  forth,  and  within  the 
time  therein  limited  ;  else  not  to  be  accounted  of 
this  house ;"  and  that  no  one  should  wear  any 
gown,  doublet,  hose,  or  outward  garment  of  any 
light  colour,  upon  penalty  of  expulsion ;  and  within 
ten  days  following  it  was  also  ordered  that  no  one 
should  wear  any  white  doublet  in  the  house  after 
Michaelmas  Term  ensuing. 

Hats  were  forbidden  to  be  worn  in  the  Hall  at 
meal-time,  in  27  Elizabeth,  under  a  penalty  of  3s.  4d. 
for  each  offence.  In  1600  the  gentlemen  of  the 
society  were  instructed  not  to  come  into  the  Hall 
with  their  hats,  boots,  or  spurs,  but  with  their  caps, 
decently  and  orderly,  "according  to  the  ancient 
orders."  When  they  walked  in  the  City  or  suburbs, 
or  in  the  fields,  they  had  to  go  in  their  gowns,  or 
they  were  liable  to  be  fined,  and  at  the  third  offence 
tp  be  expelled,  an4  Ipse  their  c|iamb?r. 


One  cannot,  however,  oppose  fashion ;  and 
though  the  benchers  might  talk  grandly,  in  their 
council-chamber,  of  its  being  frivolity,  and  issue 
instructions  about  wearing  this,  and  not  wearing 
that,  it  is  to  be  feared  they  did  not  always  get  them- 
selves attended  to.  Was  it  likely  that  handsome 
youngsters  were  going  to  make  guys  of  themselves? 
"  Even  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth,"  says  one  writer, 
"  when  authority  was  most  anxious  that  utter- 
barristers  should,  in  matter  of  costume,  maintain 
that  reputation  for  'sadness'  which  is  the  pro- 
verbial characteristic  of  apprentices  of  the  law, 
counsellors  of  various  degrees  were  conspicuous 
through  the  town  for  brave  attire.  At  Gray's  Inn, 
Francis  Bacon  was  not  singular  in  loving  rich 
clothes,  and  running  into  debt  for  satin  and  velvet, 
jewels  and  brocade,  lace  and  feathers.  Even  of 
that  contemner  of  frivolous  men  and  vain  pursuits, 
Edward  Coke,  biography  assures  us  that '  the  jewel 
of  his  mind  was  put  into  a  fair  case — a  beautiful 
body  with  a  comely  countenance :  a  case  which 
he'  did  wipe  and  keep  clean,  delighting  in  good 
clothes  well  worn ;  being  wont  to  say  that  the  out- 
ward neatness  of  our  bodies  might  be  a  monitor  of 
purity  to  our  souls.' " 

Among  other  ancient  constitutions  of  Gray's 
Inn  were  the  following : — That  no  officer  of  this 
house  shall  hold  or  enjoy  his  office  longer  than 
he  shall  keep  himself  sole  and  unmarried,  ex- 
cepting the  steward,  the  chief  butler,  and  the  chief 
cook ;  that  no  fellow  of  the  society  stand  with  his 
back  to  the  fire  ;  that  no  fellow  of  the  society  make 
any  rude  noise  in  the  Hall  at  exercises,  or  at  meal- 
time; that  no  fellow  of  the  society,  under  the 
degree  of  an  ancient,  keep  on  his  hat  at  readings 
or  moots,  or  cases  assigned ;  and  that  search  be 
made  every  "term  for  lewd  and  dangerous  persons, 
that  no  such  be  suffered  to  lodge  in  the  house. 

Mootings,  or  disputations,  in  the  Inns  of  Court 
and  Chancery  have  long  been  disused.  Danby 
Pickering,  Esq.,  of  Gray's  Inn,  was  the  last  who 
voluntarily  resumed  them,  but  they  were  not  of 
long  continuance.  Indeed,  the  course  pf  legal 
education  has  greatly  changed,  and  scarcely  any  of 
the  ancient  customs  mentioned  by  authors  are 
known,  except  as  matters  of  curiosity. 

The  Inns  of  Court  were,  in  the  olden  time,  the 
scene  of  many  joyous  masques  and  revels,  thus 
following  the  example  set  by  the  nobility  in  their 
castles  and  palaces.  During  the  reigns  of  Henry 
VIII.  and  Elizabeth,  masques,  and  other  goodly 
"disguisings"  sanctioned  by  the  "grave  and  reverend 
Bench,"  were  frequently  performed  at  Gray's  Inn. 
The  first  entertainment  of  this  kind  of  which  we 
have  specific  notice  w^s  a  masc^ue  performed  hgre 


SS8 


OLD    AND    NEW    LONDON. 


[Holborn  Inns  of  Court. 


at  Christmas,  1527.  It  was  composed  by  John 
Roo,  serjeant-at-law,  and  was  chiefly  remarkable  for 
the  great  offence  which  it  gave  to  Cardinal  Wolsey, 
whose  ambition  and  misgovemment  it  was  supposed 
to  satirise.  The  old  chronicler.  Hall,  giving  an 
account*  of  the  events  of  the  eighteenth  year  of 


from  him  his  coif,  and  sent  him  to  the  Fleet; 
and  afterwards  he  sent  for  the  young  gentlemen 
that  played  in  the  play,  and  highly  rebuked  and 
threatened  them,  and  sent  one  of  them,  called 
Master  Moyle,  of  Kent,  to  the  Fleet ;  but,  by  means 
of  friends,  Master  Roo  and  he  were  delivered  at 


GRAY'S    INN    GARDENS, 


Henry  VIII.,  thus  speaks  of  it :— "  This  Christ- 
mas was  a  goodly  disguising  played  at  Gray's  Inn, 
which  was  compiled  by  John  Roo,  serjeant-at-the- 
law,  twenty  year  past,  and  long  before  the  cardinal 
had  any  authority.  .  .  .  This  play  was  so  set  forth 
with  rich  and  costly  apparel,  and  with  strange 
devices  of  masks  and  morrishes,  that  it  was  highly 
praised  of  all  men,  except  by  the  cardinal,  who 
imagined  that  the  play  had  been  devised  of  him. 
In  a  great  fury  he  sent  for  Master  Roo,  and  took 


last.  This  play  sore  displeased  the  cardinal,  and 
yet  it  was  never  meant  for  him,  wherefore  many 
wise  men  grudged  to  see  him  take  it  so  to  heart." 

Perhaps  Roo,  when  he  wrote  his  comedy,  did  not 
intend  any  special  reference  to  Wolsey.  It  seems, 
however,  that  the  performers  were  aware  that  the 
cardinal  would  likely  take  it  home  to  himself  We 
learn  as  much  from  Fox's  notice,  in  his  "  Acts  and 
Monuments,"  of  a  Mr.  Simon  Fish,  one  of  the 
gentlemen  who  acted  in  the  piece. 


Holborn  Inns  of  Court.] 


ON   THE  STAGE. 


559 


That  the  presentation  of  plays  was  a  customary 
feature  of  the  festivities  at  Gray's  Inn,  we  may  infer 
from  a  passage  from  Dugdale,  in  his  notes  on  this 
society.  He  says  : — "  In  4  Edward  VI.  (Novem- 
ber 17)  it  was  also  ordered  that  henceforth  there 
should  be  no  comedies,  called  interludes,  in  this 


cember  (St.  Thomas's  Eve)  the  prince  (one  Master 
Henry  Holmes,  a  Norfolk  gentleman)  took  up  his 
quarters  in  the  Great  Hall  of  the  Inn,  and  by  the 
3rd  of  January  the  grandeur  and  comicality  of  his 
proceedings  had  created  so  much  talk  throughout 
the  town,  that  the  Lord  Treasurer,  Burghley,  the 


BARNARD  S    INN. 


house  out  of  Term  time  but  when  the  feast  of  the 
Nativity  of  our  Lord  is  solemnly  observed.  And 
that  when  there  shall  be  any  such  comedies,  then 
all  the  society  at  that  time  in  commons,  to  bear 
the  charge  of  the  apparel." 

The  Prince  of  Purpoole's  revel  at  Gray's  Inn,  in 
1594,  was  a  costly  entertainment,  and,  in  point  of 
riotous  excess,  not  inferior  to  any  similar  festivity  in 
the  time  of  Elizabeth.      "On  the   20th  of  De- 


Earls  of  Cumberland,  Essex,  Shrewsbury,  and 
Westmoreland ;  the  Lords  Buckhurst,  Windsor, 
Sheffield,  Compton;  and  a  magnificent  array  of 
knights  and  ladies,  visited  Gray's  Inn  Hall  on  that 
day,  and  saw  the  masque  which  the  revellers  put 
upon  the  stage.  After  the  masque  there  was  a 
banquet,  which  was  followed  by  a  ball.  On  the 
day  after,  the  prince,  attended  by  eighty  gentle- 
men of  Gray's  Inn  and  the  Temple  (each  of  them 


5  6c 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[Holboru  Inns  of  .Court. 


wearing  a  plume  on  his  head),  dined  in  state 
with  the  Lord  Mayor  and  aldermen  of  the  City,  at 
Crosby  Pl3.ce.  The  frolic  continued  for  many  days 
more,  the  royal  Purpoole,  on  one  occasion,  visiting 
Blackwall  with  a  splendid  retinue;  on  another, 
(Twelfth  Night)  receiving  a  gallant  assembly  of 
lords,  ladies,  and  knights  at  his  court  in  Gray's 
Inn;  and  on  a  third  (Shrovetide)  visiting  the 
Queen  herself,  at  Greenwich,  when  Her  Majesty 
warmly  applauded  the  masque  set  before  her  by  the 
actors  who  were  members  of  the  prince's  court. 

"  So  delighted  was  EHzabeth  with  the  entertain- 
ment, that  she  graciously  allowed  the  masquers  to 
kiss  her  right  hand,  and  loudly  extolled  Gray's  Inn 
as  '  an  house  she  was  much  indebted  to,  for  it  did 
always  study  for  some  sport  to  present  unto  her;' 
whilst  to  the  mock  prince  she  showed  her  favour 
by  placing  in  his  hand  the  jewel  (set  with  seven- 
teen diamonds  and  fourteen  rubies)  which  he  had 
won  by  valour  and  skill  in  a  tournament  which 
formed  part  of  the  Shrovetide  sports." 

When  the  Prince  of  Purpoole  kept  his  court  at 
Gray's  Inn  on  this  occasion,  we  are  told  that  his 
champion  rode  into  the  dining-hall  upon  the  back 
of  a  fiery  charger,  which,  like  the  rider,  was  clothed 
in  a  panoply  of  steel. 

In  16 1 2  the  gentlemen  of  Gray's  Inn,  in  com- 
pany with  those  of  the  other  Inns  of  Court,  acted 
in  a  great  masque  at  Whitehall,  given  in  honour  of 
the  marriage  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth  to  the  Count 
Palatine.  To  cover  the  expense  of  this  display 
an  assessment  was  made  of  ^4  from  each  reader ; 
the  ancients  paying  ^2  los.,  the  barristers  ^2, 
and  the  students  20s.  apiece. 

The  society  of  Gray's  Inn  took  an  active  part  in 
the  gorgeous  masque  which  we  have  described  as 
starting  from  Ely  Place  at  Allhallowtide,  1633  (see 
p.  521  etseq.).  One  of  the  representatives  of  Gray's 
Inn,  on  that  occasion,  was  a  Mr.  Read,  whom  all 
the  women,  and  some  of  the  men,  pronounced  "  as 
handsome  a  man  as  the  Duke  of  Buckingham." 
The  only  accident  that  happened  that  day  was  an 
unfortunate  display  of  temper  towards  a  Gray's  Inn 
member.  "  Mr.  May,'-  says  Ganard,  in  one  of  his 
letters  to  Lord  Strafford,  "of  Gray's  Inn,  a  fine 
poet — he  who  translated  Lucan — came  athwart 
my  Lord  Chamberlain  in  the  banqueting-house, 
and  he  broke  his  staff  across  his  shoulders,  not 
knowing  who  he  was.  The  king  was  present,  who 
knew  him,  for  he  calls  him  his  poet,  and  told  the 
Chamberlain  of  it,  who  sent  for  him  next  morning, 
and  fairly  excused  himself  to  him,  and  gave  him 
fifty  pounds  in  pieces."  This  hot-headed  Lord 
Chamberlain  was  Philip  Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke 
Wd  Montgomery,  the  "  meniorable  simpleton  "  of 


Horace  Walpole,  and  one  of  whom  Anthony  Wood 
quaintly  observes  that  he  broke  many  wiser  heads 
than  his  own. 

The  students  of  the  Inns  were  never  the  quietest 
members  of  the  community.  Among  the  distur- 
bances of  Gray's  Inn  is  one  mentioned  by  Pepys 
in  his  Diary,  May,  1667: — "Great  talk  of  how 
the  barristers  and  students  of  Gray's  Inn  rose  in 
rebellion  against  the  benchers  the  other  day,  who 
outlawed  them ;  a  great  to-do ;  but  now  they  are  at 
peace  again." 

A  few  years  later  we  find  them  up  in  arms  again ; 
but  thia  time  their  strength  is  turned  against  out- 
siders, and  not  expended  in  hitting  each  other  hard 
knocks.  When  building  operations  commenced 
in  Holborn  Fields,  and  the  country  about  Gray's 
Inn  began  to  give  plate  to  streets  and  squares, 
the  legal  fraternity,  anxious  to  preserve  the  rural 
character  of  their  neighbourhood,  were  greatly  dis- 
pleased. Lawyers,  it  is  true,  were  the  earliest 
householders,  but  that  did  not  serve  to  mend 
the  matter.  Under  date  of  June  loth,  1684, 
Narcissus  Luttrell  wrote  in  his  Diary :  "  Dr.  Bare- 
bone,  the  great  builder,  having  some  time  since 
bought  the  Red  Lyon  Fields,  near  Graie's  Inn 
Walks,  to  build  on,  and  having,  for  that  purpose, 
employed  severall  workmen  to  goe  on  with  the 
same,  the  gentlemen  of  Graie's  Inn  took  notice  of 
it,  and  thinking  it  an  injury  to  them,  went  with 
a  considerable  body  of  a  hundred  persons;  upon 
which  the  workmen  assaulted  the  gentlemen,  and 
flung  bricks  at  them.  So  a  sharp  engagement 
ensued,  but  the  gentlemen  routed  them  at  last,  and 
brought  away  one  or  two  of  the  workmen  to  Graie's 
Inn.  In  this  skirmish  one  or  two  of  the  gentlemen 
and  servants  of  the  house  were  hurt,  and  severall 
of  the  workmen." 

The  various  eminent  members  of  the  Inn  now 
claim  our  notice.  Sir  William  Gascoigne,  whose 
name  is  famihar  to  all,  was  one  of  the  lawyers  of 
the  olden  tim'e  connected  with  this  house.  He 
was  reader  here  till  1398,  in  which  year  he  was 
called  to  the  degree  of  King's  Serjeant-at-law. 
About  three  years  afterwards  he  was  made  Chief 
Justice  of  the  King's  Bench.  His  death  took 
place  on  the  17th  of  December,  1413.  For  his 
integrity  as  a  judge,  as  well  as  for  his  private  virtues, 
he  deserves  to  be  ever  held  in  remembrance. 

He  distinguished  himself  on  many  occasions, 
particularly  in  refusing  to  pass  sentence  on  Arch- 
bishop Scroop  as  a  traitor,  though  commanded  to 
do  so  by  the  king ;  and  still  more  by  committing 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  Henry  V.,  to  prison 
for  contempt  of  court.  This  latter  incident  suggested 
\Q  Shakespeare  one  of  his  niost  effective  scenes, 


Holbom  Inns  of  Court.} 


A   PRINCE   IN   PRISON. 


S6i 


Here  is  the  account  given  by  one  of  our  old 
chroniclers  of  the  Prince's  committal  to  prison.  It 
happened,"  he  says,  "  that  a  servant  of  Prince 
Henry,  afterwards  the  fifth  English  king  of  that 
Christian  name,  was  arraigned  before  this  judge, 
Sir  William  Gascoigne,  for  felony,  whom  the  Prince, 
then  present,  endeavoured  to  take  away,  coming 
up  in  such  fury  that  the  beholders  beUeved  he 
would  have  stricken  the  judge.  But  he,  sitting 
without  moving,  according  to  the  majesty  he  repre- 
sented, committed  the  Prince  prisoner  to  the  King's 
Bench,  there  to  remain  until  the  pleasure  of  the 
Prince's  father  were  further  known.  Who,  when 
he  heard  thereof  by  some  pickthank  courtier,  who 
probably  expected  a  contrary  return,  gave  God 
thanks  for  His  infinite  goodness,  who  at  the  same 
mstant  had  given  him  a  judge  who  could  administer 
and  a  son  who  could  obey  justice."  The  dramatist 
puts  these  words  in  his  mouth  : — 

"  Happy  am  I,  that  have  a  man  so  bold 
That  dares  do  justice  on  my  proper  son  ; 
And  not  less  happy,  having  such  a  son 
That  would  deliver  up  his  greatness  so 
Into  the  hands  of  justice." 

It  is  a  fine  scene  in  Shakespeare's  Henry  IV. 
(Part  II.,  v.  2),  where  the  future  conqueror  of  Agin- 
court,  after  his  accession  to  the  throne,  meets  the 
independent  judge : — 

"King.  You  are  right,  Justice,  and  you  weigh  this  well ; 
Therefore  still  bear  the  balance  and  the  sword  j 
And  I  do  wish  your  honours  may  increase, 
Till  you  do  live  to  see  a  son  of  mine 
Offend  you  and  obey  you,  as  I  did. 

.    You  did  commit  me  : 
For  which,  I  do  commit  into  your  hand 
The  unstained  sword  that  you  have  used  to  bear, 
With  this  remembrance,  that  you  use  the  same 
With  the  like  bold,  just,  and  impartial  spirit 
As  you  have  done  'gainst  me.'' 

Thomas  Cromwell,  afterwards  Earl  of  Essex,  a 
conspicuous  enough  individual  in  his  day,  and  also 
kept  in  remembrance  by  Shakespeare,  was  another 
member  of  this  Inn.  He  was  a  man  of  humble 
origin,  and  owed  his  rise  in  life  to  his  having  been 
admitted  into  the  household  of  Cardinal  Wolsey. 
He  is  said  to  have  acted  as  law  adviser  to  the 
Cardinal,  who  recognised  his  abilities,  rewarded  his 
devotion,  and  left  him  a  parting  counsel : — 

"  Oh,  Cromwell,  Cromwell, 
Had  I  but  served  my  God  with  half  the  zeal 
I  ^erved  my  king,  he  would  not  in  my  age 
Have  left  me  naked  to  mine  enemies." 

Cromwell  was  admitted  of  Gray's  Inn  in  1524. 
Ten  years  afterwards  he  was  one  of  the  ancients 
of  the  society,  and  in  1535  he  was  raised  to  the 
oflSces  of  Secretary  to  the  Privy  Council,   Ch'an- 


cellor  of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  Master  of 
the  Rolls,  and  Lord  Privy  Seal.  The  new  doctrines 
in  religion,  it  was  well  known,  had  his  sympathy 
and  support. 

"  Bishop  Gardiner.  Do  I  not  know  you  for  a  favourer 
Of  this  new  sect?    Ye  are  not  sound. 

Cromwell.  Not  sound  ? 

Gardiner.     Not  sound  I  say, 

Cromwell.     Would  you  were  half  so  honest. 
Men's  prayers  then  would  see  you,  not  their  fears. 

Gardiner.     I  shall  remember  this  bold  language. 

Cromwell.  Do ; 

Remember  your  bold  life  too." — Henry  VIII.,  v.  i. 

His  successful  career  did  not  last  long.  As 
often  happens,  wealth  and  honour  created  envious 
enemies  :  the  clergy,  too,  viewed  him  with  hatred, 
and  to  the  nobility  he  was  odious  on  account  of 
his  mean  extraction.  He  fell  into  disfavour  with 
King  Henry,  and  on  the  loth  of  June,  1540,  was 
committed  to  prison.  He  was  impeached  before 
Parhament,  the  articles  accusing  him  of  being  "  the 
most  false  and  corrupt  traitor  and  deceiver  that 
had  been  known  in  that  reign ;"  of  being  a  "  detest- 
able heretic,"  and  of  having  acquired  "  innumerable 
sums  of  money  and  treasure  by  oppression,  bribery, 
and  extortion.''  He  was  not  allowed  to  answer 
these  charges  in  open  court,  and  was  sentenced  to 
be  beheaded.  The  sentence  was  carried  into 
effect  on  Tower  Hill  on  the  28th  of  July  of  the 
same  year. 

William  Cecil,  Lord  Burleigh,  was  another 
eminent  member  of  whom  Gray's  Inn  can  boast. 
He  entered  at  Gray's  Inn  in  1540.  "  Whether  this 
removal  to  Gray's  Inn,"  says  Dr.  Nares,  ''  were  for 
the  purpose  of  his  being  bred  wholly  up  to  the 
profession  of  the  law,  we  are  not  able  to  say,  since 
it  was  no  unusual  thing  in  those  days  for  young 
men  of  family  and  talents,  who  had  any  prospect 
of  becoming  members  of  the  legislature,  to  go 
through  a  course  of  law  at  some  one  of  our  Inns  of 
Court,  in  order  to  become  better  acquainted  with 
the  laws  and  constitution  of  their  country.  It  was 
regarded,  indeed,  as  almost  a  necessary  qualifi- 
cation." 

An  anecdote  of  Burleigh's  Gray's-Inn  days,  as 
quaintly  related  by  his  old  historian,  may  afford 
the  reader  some  gratification.  "A  mad  companion 
having  enticed  him  to  play,  in  a  short  time  he  lost 
all  his  money,  bedding,  and  books  to  his  com- 
panion, having  never  used  play  before.  And 
being  afterwards  among  his  other  coihpany,  he  told 
them  how  such  a  one  had  misled  him,  saying  he 
would  presently  have  a  device  to  be  even  with  him. 
And  with  a  long  trouke  he  made  a  hole  in  the  wall, 
near  his  playfellow's  bedhead,  and  in  a  fearful 
voice  spake  thus  through  the  trouke  : — '  0  mortal 


502 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbonn  Inns  of  Court. 


man,  repent!  repent  of  thy  horrid  time  consumed 
in  play,  cozenage,  and  lewdness,  or  else  thou  art 
damned  and  canst  not  be  saved  !'  Which  being 
spoken  at  midnight,  when  he  was  all  alone,  so 
amazed  him,  as  drove  him  into  a  sweat  for  fear. 
Most  penitent  and  heavy,  the  next  day,  in  presence 
of  the  youths,  he  told  with  trembling  what  a  fearful 
voice  spake  to  him  at  midnight,  vowing  never  to 
play  again;  and  calling  for  Mr.  Cecil,  asked  him 
forgiveness  on  his  knees,  and  restored  him  all  his 
money,  bedding,  and  books.  So  two  gamesters 
were  both  reclaimed  with  this  merry  device,  and 
never  played  more.  Many  other  the  like  merry 
jests  I  have  heard  him  tell,  too  long  to  be  here 
noted." 

"  Who  Burleigh's  '  playfellows '  were,"  says  a 
writer  in  Knight's  "London,"  "nowhere  appears,  but 
the  future  statesman  himself  was  a  married  man 
during  the  greater  part  of  his  sojourn  at  Gray's  Inn, 
and  ought  to  have  been  more  steady  than  to  stake 
his  'books  and  bedding,'  after  losing  his  money. 
However,  from  many  memoranda  of  Gray's  Inn 
which  have  come  down  to  our  time,  it  would  seem 
that  the  students  of  this  society  were  rather  an 
unruly  set." 

The  most  distinguished  writer  on  the  laws  of 
England  who  flourished  in  the  sixteenth  century 
was  Anthony  Fitzherbert,  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Court  of  Common  Pleas  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
VIII.  He  once  filled  the  office  of  reader  in  Gray's 
Inn.  "His  books" — "  De  Natura  Brevium,"  and 
others — says  Fuller,  "are  monuments  which  will 
longer  continue  his  memory  than  the  flat  blue 
stone  in  Norbury  Church,  under  which  he  lieth 
interred."  Fitzherbert  assisted  to  draw  up  the 
articles  of  impeachment  against  Cardinal  Wolsey, 
which  concluded  by  praying  King  Henry  "  that  he 
be  so  provided  for,  that  he  never  have  any  power, 
jurisdiction,  or  authority,  hereafter  to  trouble,  vex, 
and  impoverish  the  Commonwealth  of  this  your 
realm,  as  he  hath  done  heretofore,  to  the  great 
hurt  and  damage  of  almost  every  man,  high  and 
low." 

We  have  already  referred  to  Simon  Fish,  a  student 
of  this  inn,  who,  for  taking  part  in  a  masque  sup- 
posed to  satirise  Wolsey,  had  to  fly  the  kingdom, 
in  1527.  During  his  residence  in  Germany,  he 
composed  a  work  called  "The  Supplication  of 
Beggars,"  attacking  the  monastic  orders  in  England. 
It  was  shown  by  Anne  Boleyn  to  Henry  VIIL, 
who  was  so  pleased  with  it,  as  falling  in  with  his 
projects  of  plunder,  that  he  not  only  permitted  the 
return  of  the  author  to  his  native  land,  but  took 
him  under  his  protection.  Fish  did  not  long  enjoy 
his  good  fortune;  he  died  in  1531. 


Passing  from  him,  however,  we  come  to  two 
much  more  celebrated  members  of  our  inn.  Sir 
Nicholas  ^acon.  Lord  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal 
of  England  during  the  greater  part  of  Elizabeth's 
reign,  kept  his  terms  here.  In  the  year  1532  he 
was  admitted  a  student  of  Gray's  Inn  ;  in  1536  he 
rose  to  the  degree  of  ancient  in  the  society,  and 
in  1550  was  created  a  bencher. 

Sir  Nicholas  Bacon  had  much  of  that  penetrating 
genius,  solidity  of  judgment,  persuasive  eloquence, 
and  comprehensive  knowledge  of  law  and  equity, 
which  afterwards  shone  forth  with  so  great  a  lustre 
in  his  son,  who  was,  it  has  been  remarked,  "as 
much  inferior  to  his  father,  in  point  of  prudence 
and  integrity,  as  his  father  was  to  him  in  literary 
accomplishments."  He  was  the  first  Lord  Keeper 
who  ranked  as  Chancellor. 

Towards  the  end  of  his  life  he  became  very  cor- 
pulent, which  gave  occasion  to  Elizabeth  to  make 
a  jest  once  :  "  Sir  Nicholas's  soul  lodged  well,"  she 
said.  To  himself,  however,  his  bulk  was  very  cum- 
bersome, insomuch  that,  after  walking  from  West- 
minster Hall  to  the  Star  Chamber,  which  was  but 
a  little  way,  he  was  usually  so  much  out  of  breath 
that  the  lawyers  forbore  speaking  at  the  bar  till  he 
recovered  himself,  and  gave  them  notice  of  it  by 
knocking  with  his  staff.  His  death,  in  1579,  is 
reported  to  have  happened  through  a  cold,  caught 
from  having  fallen  asleep  with  his  window  open, 
after  having  been  under  the  hands  of  his  barber. 

But  the  name  of  which,  above  all  others,  Gray's 
Inn  is  proud,  is  that  of  Francis  Lord  Bacon,  the 
youngest  son  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon.  This  great 
man's  history  is  well  known,  so  we  shall  not  repeat 
it,  but  content  ourselves  with  recording  the  dates 
of  his  admission  as  a  student  here,  and  of  his 
various  degrees  in  the  society.  He  was  admitted 
in  1576;  became  ancient,  21st  November,  1576; 
became  barrister,  27  th  June,  1582;  became  bencher, 
1586;  became  reader,  1588,  and  was  duplex  reader 
in  1600. 

The  errors  and  foibles  of  this  great  man  were,  no 
doubt,  exaggerated  by  the  malice  of  his  enemies, 
and  they  have  died  with  him ;  but  his  writings  will 
exercise  an  influence  for  good  on  mankind  as  long 
as  our  language  lasts ;  and  his  "name  and  memory," 
which  he  proudly  bequeathed  "to  foreign  nations 
and  to  his  own  countrymen,  after  some  time  passed 
over,"  will  long  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  most 
valuable  inheritances  of  this  ancient  and*  honour- 
able legal  society. 

After  his  downfall,  when  he  had  parted  with 
York  House,  he  resided  again  at  his  old  chambers 
at  Gray's  Inn,  whence,  in  1626,  he  went  one  day, 
with  his  physician,  towards  Highgate,  to  take  the 


koib 


.orn  Inns  of  Court.]  HlGtt    CONtEMPt    AND    MISDEMEANOUR. 


563 


air.  "It  occurred  to  Bacon  to  inquire  if  flesh 
might  not  be  preserved  in  snow  as  well  as  in  salt. 
PulUng  up  at  a  small  cottage,  near  the  foot  of 
Highgate  Hill,  he  bought  a  hen  from  an  old 
dame,  plucked  and  drew  it,  gathered  up  snow  in 
his  palms,  and  stuffed  it  into  the  fowl."  He  was 
smitten  by  a  sudden  chill,  became  too  ill  to  return 
to  Gray's  Inn,  and  was  carried  to  the  Earl  of 
Arundel's  house,  close  at  hand,  where  he  died 
within  a  week.  In  his  brief  will  it  was  directed 
that  the  lease  of  his  rooms,  valued  at  ;^3oo,  was 
to  be  sold,  and  the  money  given  to  poor  scholars. 

Francis  Bacon's  progress  from  Gray's  Inn  to 
Westminster,  on  the  7th  of  May,  1617,  has  been 
described  by  many  writers,  who,  however  widely 
they  differ  in  estimating  the  moral  worth  of  the 
new  Lord  Keeper,  concur  in  celebrating  the  gor- 
geousness  of  his  pageant :— "  On  the  first  day  of 
Trinity  Term,  May  7  th,  says  Mr.  Hepvrorth  Dixon, 
in  his  "Story  of  Lord  Bacon's  Life,"  "he  rode 
from  Gray''s  Inn,  which  he  had  not  yet  left,  to 
Westminster  Hall,  to  open  the  courts  in  state,  all 
London  turning  out  to  do  him  honour,  the  queen 
sending  the  lords  of  her  household.  Prince 
Charles  the  whole  of  his  followers — the  lords  of 
the  council,  the  judges,  and  Serjeants  composing 
his  immediate  train.  On  his  right  hand  rode  the 
Lord  Treasurer,  on  his  left  the  Lord  Privy  Seal, 
behind  them  a  long  procession  of  earls  and  barons, 
knights  and  gentlemen.  Every  one,  says  George 
Gerard,  who  could  procure  a  horse  and  a  foot- 
cloth  fell  into  the  train,  so  that  more  than  200 
horsemen  rode  behind  him,  through  crowds  of 
citizens  and  apprentice  boys  from  Cheap,  of  players 
from  Bankside,  of  the  Puritan  hearers  of  Burgess, 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  friends  of  Danvers  and 
Armstrong ;  and  he  rode,  as  popular  in  the  streets 
as  he  had  been  in  the  House  of  Commons,  down 
Chancery  Lane  and  the  Strand,  past  Charing  Cross, 
through  the  open  courts  of  Whitehall,  and  by  King 
Street  into  Palace  Yard.  He  wore  on  that  day,  as 
he  had  worn  on  his  bridal  day,  a  suit  of  purple 
satin.  Alighting  at  the  gates  of  Westminster  Hall, 
and  parsing  into  the  Court,  he  took  his  seat  on  the 
bench;  when  the  company  had  entered,  and  the 
criers  commanded  silence,  he  addressed  them  on 
his  intention  to  reform  the  rules  and  practices  of 
the  court." 

Lord  Bacon's  chambers,  says  Mr.  Pearce,  "were 
in  No.  I,  Coney  Court,  which  fcftmerly  stood  on 
the  site  of  the  present  row  of  buildings  at  the  west 
side  of  Gray's  Inn  Square,  adjoining  the  gardens. 
The  whole  of  Coney  Court  was  burnt  down  by 
-^  fire  which  occurred  in  the  inn  about  the  year 
1678." 


Gray's  Inn  can  boa-st  of  having  had  as  one 
of  its  members  the  patriotic  and  honest  Welsh 
judge,  David  Jenkins.  He  was  a  famous  champion 
of  the  royal  cause,  and  in  the  most  troublous 
time  of  England's  history  displayed  undaunted 
courage  and  unbending  devotion  to  his  lawful 
sovereign.  He  was  admitted  a  student  of  Gray's 
Inn  in  the  year  1602,  was  called  to  the  Bar  in 
1609,  and  on  the  28th  of  May,  1622,  was  advanced 
to  the  degree  of  ancient  in  this  house.  In  the 
discharge  of  his  official  duty  he  imprisoned  and 
condemned  several  persons  bearing  arms  against 
King  Charles.  For  this  the  parliamentarians  laid 
violent  hands  upon  him,  and  on  Monday,  21st  of 
February,  1647,  the  keeper  of  Newgate  brought 
Judge  Jenkins,  described  as  "  Mr.  David  Jenkins, 
judge  in  Wales,  now  a  prisoner  in  that  gaole,"  to 
the  bar  of  the  House  of  Commons,  upon  an  im- 
peachment of  high  treason.  The  Speaker  asked 
him  what  he  had  to  say  for  himself,  and  David 
Jenkins  was  not  slow  to  reply.  We  are  informed 
by  a  contemporaneous  account  of  his  arraignment, 
that  he  said  "  that  they  had  no  power  to  try  him, 
and  at  the  bar,  and  in  the  open  house,  gave  very 
contemptuous  words  and  reproaches  against  the 
Houses  and  power  of  Pariiament.  He  threatened 
Parliament  with  the  king's  numerous  issue,  with 
divers  other  reproachful  words,  such  as  the  like 
were  never  offered  in  the  face-  of  a  parliament. 
After  he  came  out  of  the  House,  he  put  off  his  hat, 
and  spake  to  this  effect  before  the  soldiers  of  the 
guard,  and  divers  gentlemen  at  the  doore  :  '  Gentle- 
men, God  bless  you  all,  protect  the  laws  of  the 
kingdom !' " 

His  carriage  was  declared  to  be  a  high  contempt 
and  misdemeanour,  and  he  was  ordered  to  be 
fined  ;^i,ooo,  and  sent  back  to  Newgate.  When 
in  prison  he  expected  daily  to  be  hanged,  and 
formed  the  original  resolution  of  being  suspended 
from  the  gallows-tree  with  a  Bible  under  one  arm 
and  Magna  Charta  under  the  other.  It  never  came 
to  that,  however ;  and  Judge  Jenkins  escaped  with 
his  life. 

Bradshaw,  who  sat  as  president  at  the  trial  of 
Charles  I.,  was  a  bencher  of  Gray's  Inn.  He  was 
"  a  stout  man,"  to  quote  the  words  of  Whitelock, 
"  and  learned  in  his  profession ;  no  friend  to 
monarchy."  He  entered  Gray's  Inn  in  the  year 
1622,  was  called  to  the  bar  on  the  23rd  of  April, 
1627,  and  was  advanced  to  the  degree  of  ancient 
on  the  23rd  of  June,  1645. 

Sir  Thomas  Holt  was  once  Treasurer  of  Gray's 
Inn,  and  his  son,  who  becarne  Lord  Chief  Justice, 
was  entered  upon  the  society's  books  before  he 
was   ten  years  old.     Lord  Chief  Justice   Holt  is 


5^4 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbom  Inns  of  Court. 


deservedly  regarded  as  a  bright  ornament  of  this 
Inn,  and  his  escutcheon  holds  a  prominent  place 
in  the  principal  window  of  the  hall.  He  was  born 
at  Thame,  in  Oxfordshire,  about  1642.  His  rise  as 
a  lawyer  was  very  rapid,  and  in  1689  we  find  him 
appointed  by  King  William  III.  Lord  Chief  Justice 
of  the  King's  Bench,  an  office  which  he  held  till  his 
death.  On  the  removal  of  Lord  Somers  he  was 
offered  the  Chancellorship,  but  he  declined  it.  On 
the  bench  he  is  said  to  have  conducted   himself 


writer,  "  to  lay  before  them  the  noble  character  of 
Verus  the  magistrate,  who  always  sat  in  triumph 
over,  and  contempt  of  vice  j  he  never  searched 
after  it  or  spared  it  when  it  came  before  him.  At 
the  same  time  he  could  see  through  the  hypocrisy 
and  disguise  of  those  who  have  no  pretence  to 
virtue  themselves,  but  by  their  severity  to  the 
vicious.  This  same  Varus  was,  in  times  past,  Chief 
Justice,  as  we  call  it  in  Felicia  (Britain).  He  was 
a  man  of  profound  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  his 


stai'T.e's  inn. 


in  a  lofty  and  dignified  manner,  and  to  have  set  an 
example  of  spirit  and  temper  which  has  continued 
since  his  day  to  adorn  the  English  bench.  On 
several  occasions  he  was  forced,  in  the  conscientious 
discharge  of  his  duty,  to  resist  the  encroachments 
of  the  Crown  as  well  as  of  the  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment. When  he  died,  in  March,  1709,  he  left 
behind  him,  says  his  biographer,  "  a  reputation  for 
learning,  honour,  and  integrity,  which  has  never 
been  surpassed'  even  among  the  many  eminent 
individuals  who  have  succeeded  him  in  his  digni- 
fied office." 

There  is  a  sketch  of  the  character  of  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Holt  in  the  14th  number  of  the  Tatler.  "  It 
would  become  all  men  as  well  as  me,"  remarks  the 


country,  and  as  just  an  observer  of  them  in  his 
own  person.  He  considered  justice  as  a  cardinal 
virtue,  not  as  a  trade  for  maintenance.  Wherever 
he  was  judge,  he  never  forgot  that  he  was  also 
counsel.  The  criminal  before  him  was  always  sure 
he  stood  before  his  country,  and,  in  a  sort,  a  parent 
of  itj  the  prisoner  knew  that,  though  his  spirit 
was  broken  with  guilt,  and  incapable  of  language  to 
defend  itself,  all  would  be  gathered  from  him  which 
could  conduce  to  his  safety ;  and  that  his  judge 
would  wrest  no  law  to  destroy  him,  nor  conceal  any 
that  could  save  him." 

The  following  story  concerning  this  eminent 
judge  has  appeared  in  many  books  of  anecdote : 
— A  party  of  the  guards  was  once  ordered  from 


Holbom  Inns  of  Court.  J 


A  STREET  RIOT. 


56s 


Whitehall  to  put  down  a  dangerous  riot  which  had 
arisen  in  Holbom,  from  the  practice  of  kidnapping, 
then  carried  to  a  great  extent;  and  at  the  same 
time  an  officer  was  dispatched  to  inform  the  Chief 
Justice  of  what  was  doing,  and  to  desire  that  he 
would  send  some  of  his  people  to  attend  and 
countenance  the  soldiers.  "Suppose,  sir,"  said 
Holt — "  let  us  suppose  that  the  populace  should 
not  disperse  on  your  appearance,  or  at  your  com- 


"This  story,''  says  Mr.  Jeaffreson,  in  his  "Book 
about  Lawyers,"  "  is  very  ridiculous,  but  it  points 
to  an  interesting  and  significant  event.  Of  course, 
it  is  incredible  that  Holt  said,'  '  the  laws  of  this 
kingdom  are  not  to  be  executed  by  the  sword.' 
He  was  too  sound  a  constitutional  lawyer  to  hold 
that  miUtary  force  could  not  be  lawfully  used  in 
quelling  civil  insurrection.  The  interesting  fact  is 
this :  On  the  occasion  of  a  riot  in  Holbom,  Holt 


DOORWAY  IN    STAPLE'S   INN. 


mand  ?"  "  Our  orders  are  then  to  fire  upon 
them."  "Then  mark,  sir,  what  I  say.  If  there 
should  be  a  man  killed  in  consequence  of  such 
orders,  and  you  are  tried  before  me  for  murder,  I 
will  take  care  that  you  and  every  soldier  of  your 
party  shall  be  hanged.  Return  to  those  who  sent 
you,  and  tell  them  that  no  ofiicer  of  mine  shall 
accompany  soldiers ;  the  laws  of  this  kingdom  are 
not  to  be  executed  by  the  sword.  This  affair 
belongs  to  the  civil  power,  and  soldiers  have  no- 
thing to  do  here."  Then  ordering  his  tipstaves 
and  some  constables  to  accompany  him,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  scene  of  tumult ;  and  the  populace, 
on  his  assurance  that  justice  should  be  done  on 
the  objects  of  their  indignation,  dispersed  in  a 
peaceable  manner. 
96— Vol.  II. 


was  formally  required,  as  the  supreme  conservator 
of  the  king's  peace,  to  aid  the  military ;  and  in- 
stead of  converting  a  street  row  into  a  massacre, 
he  prevailed  upon  the  mob  to  disperse,  withput 
shedding  a  single  drop  of  blood.  Declining  to 
co-operate  with  soldiers  on  an  unarmed  multitude, 
he  discharged  the  ancient  functions  of  his  office 
with  words,  instead  of  sabres — with  grave  counsels, 
instead  of  cruel  violence.  Under  similar  circum- 
stances, Chief  Justice  Odo  would  have  clad  him- 
self in  mail,  and  crushed  the  rabble  beneath  the 
feet  of  his  war-horse.  At  such  a  summons  George 
Jeffreys,  having  fortified  himself  with  a  magnum  of 
claret  and  a  pint  of  strong  water,  would  have  ac- 
companied the  king's  guards,  and  with  noisy  oaths 
would  have  bade  them  give  the  rascals  a  taste  of 


566 


OLD   AND   NEW   LONDON. 


[Holbom  Inns  of  Court. 


cold  Steel.  Wearing  his  judicial  robes,  and  sus- 
tained by  the  majesty  of  the  law,  Wilham  III.'s 
chief  justice  preserved  the  peace  without  sacrificing 
hfe." 

Sir  Samuel  Romilly,  the  celebrated  EngHsh 
lawyer  and  M.P.  for  Westminster,  was  a  member  of 
Gray's  Inn.  As  a  student  he  seems  to  have  had 
no  anticipation  of  the  briUiancy  of  his  future 
career.    We  find   him  writing   despondingly  to  a 


friend,  in  1783 — "I  sometimes  lose  all  courage, 
and  wonder  what  fond  opinion  of  my  talents  could 
ever  have  induced  me  to  venture  on  so  bold  an 
undertaking ;  but  it  often  happens  (and  I  fear  it  has 
been  in  my  case)  that  men  mistake  the  desire  for 
the  ability  of  acting  some  distinguished  part."  He 
died  by  his  own  hand,  in  November,  1818,  during 
an  attack  of  brain  fever,  brought  on  by  grief  for  the 
death  of  his  wife. 


CHAPTER   LXII. 

THE   HOLBORN   INNS    OF   COURT   AND    CHANCERY   (continued). 

Ecclesiastics  of  Gray's  Inn— Steplien  Gardiner — Whitgift — Bishop  Hall,  the  "Christian  Seneca" — Archbishop  Laud — William  Juxon— On  the 
Scaffold — The  "  Bruised  Reed  " — Baxter's  Conversion — Antiquaries  and  Bookworms — The  Irritable  Joseph  Ritson — John  Britton — Hatland 
his  ." Chronicles " — Rymer  and  his  "Foedera" — The  Original  of  "Tom  Folio" — George  Chapman — A  Celebrated  Translation — Oliver 
Goldsmith— A  Library  of  One  Book— William  Cobbett — Rental  of  the  Inns  of  Court  and  Chancery — What  are  Inns  of  Chancery?— 
Fumival's  Inn — A  Street  Row — Sir  Thomas  More — ^Snakes  and  Eels — A  Phigue  of  a  Wife — A  Scene  in  the  Tower — Scourges  and  Hair 
Shirts — No  Bribery — Charles  Dickens  and  '*  Pickwick  " — Thavie's  Inn — Barnard's  Inn — The  Old  Hall — The  Last  of  the  Alchemists— A 
Given  Quantity  of  Wine — The  "  No  Popery  "  Riots — Staple  Inn-Steevens  correcting  his  Proof  Sheets — Dr.  Samuel  Johnson — ^A*'Little 
Story  Book  "—Fire  !  Fire  ! 


The  Inns  of  Court  were  instituted  chiefly  for  the 
benefit  of  those  desiring  to  devote  themselves  to 
the  legal  profession,  but  from  an  early  period  they 
were  resorted  to  by  Churchmen  and  sons  of  the 
nobility  and  gentry,  to  whom  it  was  thought  fitting 
to  give  some  instruction  in  the  principles  and 
maxims  of  our  municipal  law.  We  shall  mention 
a  few  of  the  more  eminent  ecclesiastics  who  have 
studied  at  Gray's  Inn. 

Stephen  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and 
Lord  Chancellor  of  England,  is  the  first  of  these. 
He  was  Cromwell's  great  adversary.  His  abilities 
it  is  impossible  to  over-rate,  and  one  cannot  but 
admire  his  inflexible  courage  in  the  most  trying 
circumstances ;  but  he  was  artful,  ambitious,  and 
revengeful,  even  to  blood.  He  died  in  1555. 
The  dexterous  equivocations  by  which  he  habitually 
endeavoured  to  secure  the  advantages  and  escape 
the  penalties  of  untruthfulness  gave  rise  to  the 
remark,  "  My  Lord  of  Winchester  is  like  Hebrew, 
to  be  read  backwards."  ' 

Whitgift,  the  third  primate  after  the  Reformation, 
was  admitted  to  Gray's  Inn  on  the  i6th  of  March, 
1592.  He  was  distinguished  for  his  learning,  piety, 
and  integrity,  and  is  described  by  Fuller  as  "  one 
of  the  worthiest  men  that  ever  the  English  hierarchy 
did  enjoy."  By  his  influence  he  obtained  the 
mastership  of  the  Temple  for  Hooker,  and  in 
gratitude  for  his  kindness  that  famous  divine  dedi- 
cated to  the  Archbishop  his  "Ecclesiastical  Polity.'' 

In  the  books  of  Gray's  Inn  we  find  entered  the 
name  of  ^another  distinguished  Churchman,  Joseph 
Hall,  successively  Bishop  of  Exeter  and  Norwich. 


His  works  have  gained  him  the  appellation  of  the 
"  Christian  Seneca."  His  "  Meditations  "  are  well 
known  and  much  esteemed  for  the  force  and  bril- 
liancy of  their  language  and  the  fervour  of  their 
piety.  The  knowledge  of  the  world  and  depth 
of  thought  possessed  by  Bishop  Hall  place  him 
nearer  our  own  time  than  many  of  his  contempo- 
raries. He  was  born  at  Ashby-de-la-Zouch  in 
1574,  and  died  in  1656.  His  last  resting-place 
was  the  churchyard  of  Higham,  and  there  he  was 
interred  without  any  memorial.  In  his  will  he  says, 
"  I  leave  my  body  to  be  buried  without  any  funeral 
pomp,  at  the  discretion  of  my  executors,  with  this 
only  monition,  that  I  do  not  hold  God's  house  a 
meet  repository  for  the  dead  bodies  of  the  greatest 
saints." 

Another  ecclesiastical  member  of  Gray's  Inn  was 
Archbishop  Laud.  He  was  admitted  on  the  ist 
of  November,  161 5.  Speaking  of  Laud,  Fuller,  in 
his  characteristic  style,  remarks,  "  Indeed,  I  could 
instance  in  some  kind  of  coarse  venison,  not  fit  for 
food  when  first  killed ;  and  therefore  cunning  cooks 
bury  it  for  some  hours  in  the  earth,  till  the  rankness 
thereof  being  mortified  thereby,  it  makes  most 
palatable  meat.  So  the  memories  of  some  persons, 
newly  deceased,  are  neither  fit  for  a  writer's  or 
reader's  repast,  till  some  competent  time  after  their 
interment.  However,  I  am  confident,  that  im- 
partial posterity,  on  a  serious  review  of  all  passages, 
will  allow  his  name  to  be  reposed  among  the  heroes 
of  our  nation,  seeing  such  as  hold  his  expense  on 
St.  Paul's  as  but  a  cypher,  will  assign  his  other 
benefactions  a  very  valuable  significance,  viz.,  his 


Holboi;n  Inns  of  Court.  J 


AN   IRRITABLE  ANTIQUARY. 


•567 


erectmg^;,^id  endoying.:an;  almsh^ip^jl^^iftj^ 
his  increasipg:;Q£f9xf9rd^.Lii)ra,Ty  Ki&.Jbppl^fjaHd 
St.  John's  CoHeg§,,with  beautiftu'  ,]}uiiding?,"„  Hp 
was  beheaded  January  .lothj  i£j^^..^^-, ,  .^  ,  , .,-  j 
WiUiam  Juxon,  Bisi>op  of,,  Lonsipn,:,,9pd;  after- 
wards Archbishop  of  Cantfcljury,  was  adrrvitted,  a 
member  of  Gray's  Inn  on  the  2nd  pf  M,ay,.j[63S. 
It  was  this  prelate,  the  reader  will  i^emem^ber^j^^ljio 
attended  Charles  I.  on  the  scaffold,  g,pd  did  l)is 
best,  by  suitable  exhortations,  to  prepare  th^  upfor- 
tunate  king  for  his  end.  "  There  is,  sir,"  sai(|,  he, 
"  but  one  stage  more,  which,  though  turbulent  and 
troublesome,  is  yet  a  very  short  one.  Consider,  it 
will  soon  carry  you  a  great  way ;  it  will  carry  you 
from  earth  to  heaven ;  and  there  you  shall  find  to 
your  great  joy  the  prize  to  which  you  hasten  a 
crown  of  glory."  "  I  go,"  replied  the  king,  "  from 
a  corruptible  to  an  incorruptible  crown ;"  and  a 
moment  afterwards  his  head,  streaming  with  blood, 
was  being  exhibited  to  the  assembled  populace  as 
"  the  head  of  a  traitor." 

The  author  of  the  "  Bruised  Reed,"  which  led  to 
the  conversion  of  Richard  Baxter,  and  which 
Izaak  Walton  bequeathed  to  his  children,  was  once 
the  preacher  of  Gray's  Inn.  He  was  Dr.  Richard 
Sibbes.  His  death  took  place  at  his  chambers,  here, 
in  1635. 

Baxter  himself  tells  us  of  the  happy  influence 

which  this  book  had  upon  him.     His  father  was 

pious,  but  his  surroundings  generally  were  adverse 

to  all  religious  impressions.     The  neighbourhood 

in  which  he  passed  his  youth — a  village  near  the 

foot  of  the  Wrekin,  in  Shropshire  —  was  all  that 

Queen   Elizabeth    or     King    James    could    have 

wished ;  or,  says  one  writer,  "  if  it  exceeded  her 

Majesty's  allowance  ^ 'two  preachers   enough  for 

one  county,'  in  complying  with  her  kinsman's  '  Book 

of  Sports,'  it  showed  an  excess  of  loyalty."     The 

Maypole   was   erected   beside   a  great   tree,  near 

the  dwelling  of  Baxter's   father,  and  as  soon  as 

the  reader  had  rushed  through  the  morning  prayer 

the  congregation  turned  out  to  the  village  green, 

and  the  lads  and  lasses  began  dancing.      Young 

Baxter,   however,    seems   to   have   been    seriously 

inclined,  and  the  religious  teaching  of  his   father 

was  not  wholly  thrown  away.      When  about  fifteen 

years  old,  he  had,  with  some  other  boys,  been 

stealing  apples,  and  whilst  his  mind  was  in  a  state 

of  more  than   ordinary  disquiet,  he  read   a  very 

awakening  book  called  "  Bunny's  Resolution."    He 

became  filled  with  anxiety  and  foreboding.    In  the 

midst  of  those  gloomy  days  a  poor  pedlar  came 

to  the   door  selling  books.     His  stock  consisted 

chiefly  of  ballads,  but  he   chanced   to   have   one 

good  book,  and  that  was  the  "  Bruised  Reed "  of 


JDf.  :g.i£hard,:Sibbe&j.  .Tlifirr^M&riiBajXter  bought  rit, 
^^drtq,^he,so)}.it  prpved.j,-m,essenge);  of  ^Imtictri. 
The  perusal  of  it,  aij^iOng  of  ,Parkins's. works,  Iqi^t 
him.  by  gt  servant^.^fabhsh^.  bJg  faith.,,  if  And 
thus,"  he  say^j-" -vi^itl^out  any  means, b,ut.  books,  w^S 
_God  plgsised  tpiresolve  rne-:UntO;.JHjmseljE,''p.-';Nor  is 
4t/ wpn(ie^ful,  that,  as  ,hj3  sls^j^her^-.  remarks,  "  The 
usejtha^Gp^  made  of  .Ijpoks-abpverJ&inistefiS.  to  the 
-l)«iefit  of  piysovil  Hj^d§  me  somewhat  excessively 
in  lov«  with  good  books,  sO;j:hg,|:I  though,t  I  had 
4s3^er  enow,  biit  scraped  upfasgreaj-,^  treasure  of 
Jl|em:  as  I  could.",       0:.  _ ,_     ,'•;:     . 

-V,  AJf§^y;.J^lembers  of  the  pictur^sjjue.jace,  of  anti- 
quaries and  l?pj^worpi.S7-Tirrit3.ble,  ^cc^ntric,  and 
hermit-like^haye  resided  ip-Gw'sj  Inn.  Joseph 
Ritson,  for  instance,,  })ftd,-p];ia'jpj3ers"h.er,e>'  He  lived 
and  died  in  No. :  &i  Ilplljprnj  Court  The  building 
stood  against  the  south  wall  <)f  tjie  chapel,  arid  has 
since  been  pulled  down,  jr-,/  ,£;oi>,„::  .  .  jo  /■  o 

In  that  entertaining  work,,  t^g  o'Bopkhunter,"  by 
Mr.  John  Hill  Burton,  the  historian,  pf, Scotland 
gives  some  curious  particulars  regajdiag  Ritson. 
He  was  a  man  endowed  with  almost  superhuman 
irritability  of  temper,  and  he  had  a  genius ,  fertile 
in  devising  means  of  giving  scope  tp  its  restless 
energies.  One  of  his  obstinate  fancies  was,  when 
addressing  a  Ifetter  to  a  friend  of  the  male  sex, 
instead  of  using  the  ordinary  prefix  of  Mr.  or 
the  affix  of  Esq.,  to  employ  the  term  Master,  as — 
when  writing  to  two  well-known  fellow-workers  in 
the  ways  of  old  antiquity — Master  John  Pinkerton, 
Master  George  Chalmers.  The  agreeable  result  of 
this  eccentricity  was  that  his  communications  on 
delicate  and  antiquarian  disputes  were  invariably 
delivered  to,  and  perused  by,  the  young  gentlemen 
of  the  family,  so  opening  up  new  little  delicate 
avenues,  fertile  in  controversy  and  misunder- 
standing. 

But  he  had  another  and  more  varied  peculiarity. 
In  his  numerous  books  he  insisted  on  a  peculiar 
spelling.  It  was  not  phonetic,  nor  was  it  etymo- 
logical, it  was  simply  Ritsonian.  To  understand 
the  efficacy  of  this  arrangement  as  a  source  of  con- 
troversy, it  must  be  remembered  that  the  instinct 
of  a  printer  is  to  spell  according  to  rule,  and  that 
every  deviation  from  the  ordinary  method  can  only 
be  carried  out  by  a  special  contest  over  each  word. 
Ritson,  in  seeing  his  works  through  the  press,  fought 
every  step  of  the  way,  and  such  peculiarities  as  the 
following,  profusely  scattered  over  his  books,  may 
be  looked  upon  as  the  names  of  so  many  battles  or 
skirmishes  with  his  printers  :  "  Compilur,"  "  writiir," 
"wil,"  "kil,"  "onily,"  "  probablely."  Even  when 
he  condescended  to  use  the  spelling  common  to 
the  rest  of  the  nation  he  insisted  on  the  employ- 


568 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbom  Inns  of  Court. 


ment  of  little  irritating  peculiarities ;  as,  for 
instance,  in  the  word  "  ass,"  a  word  pretty  often 
in  his  mouth,  he  would  not  follow  the  practice 
of  his  day,  in  the  use  of  the  long  and  short  "fs," 
but  inverted  the  arrangement  thus,  "  sf." 

"  This  strange  creature,"  adds  Mr.  Burton,  "  ex- 
emplified the  opinion  that  every  one  must  have 
some  creed — something  from  without  having  an  in- 
fluence over  thought  and  action,  stronger  than  the 
imperfect  apparatus  of  human  reason.  Scornfully 
disdaining  revelation  from  above,  he  groped  below, 
and  found  for  himself  a  little  fetish  made  of  turnips 
and  cabbage.  He  was  as  fanatical  a  devotee  of 
vegetarianism  as  others  have  been  of  a  middle 
state  or  adult  baptism;  and  after  having  torn 
through  a  life  of  spiteful  controversy  with  his  fellow- 
men,  and  ribaldry  of  all  sacred  things,  he  thus  ex- 
pressed the  one  weight  hanging  on  his  conscience, 
that  '  on  one  occasion,  when,  tempted  by  wet,  cold, 
and  hunger,  in  the  south  of  Scotland,  he  ventured 
to  eat  a  few  potatoes  dressed  under  the  roast, 
nothing  less  repugnant  to  feelings  being  to  be  had.' " 

Opposite  Ritson's  chambers  lived  John  Britton, 
the  eminent  writer  on  topography  and  architec- 
ture, for  three  years  clerk  to  one  Simpson,  an 
attorney,  at  the  handsome  salary  of  fifteen  shillings 
a  week.  "  Yet,"  he  says,  "  with  this  small  income, 
I  felt  comfortable  and  happy,  as  it  provided  me 
with  a  decent  lodging,  clothes,  and  food,  and  with 
the  luxury  of  books."  Britton's  account  of  his 
master  is  a  strange  one,  and  gives  an  instructive 
picture  of  our  legal  friends  at  work  amassing  their 
six  and  eightpences.  "  At  eleven  o'clock  he  came 
to  the  office  to  receive  business  letters,  each  of 
which  he  read  several  times,  with  pauses  between 
each  sentence  ;  by  which  process  six  short  letters 
would  occupy  at  least  an  hour  of  his  time.  He 
devoted  more  than  another  hour  to  dictating 
equally  laconic  letters  in  reply ;  whilst  a  third  was 
employed  in  reading  those  answers  when  written. 
This  vapid  waste  of  time  was  the  practice  of  every 
succeeding  day  for  three  years."  Britton  used 
occasionally  to  visit  Ritson  in  his  chambers. 

Most  of  Britton's  works  were  devoted  to  topo- 
graphy and  architectural  antiquities,  biography,  and 
the  fine  arts.  Amongst  these  may  be  named  his 
"  Architectural  Antiquities  of  Great  Britain,"  and 
the  "Cathedral  Antiquities  of  England,"  works 
of  national  value,  which  will  secure  lasting  fame 
for  their  author.  A  writer  in  the  Genikman's 
Magazine,  to  which  Britton  was  a  frequent  con- 
tributor, thus  speaks  of  him  : — "  To  his  labours,  the 
architecture,  and  particularly  the  ecclesiastical  and 
domestic  architecture,  of  the  country,  is  deeply  in- 
debted for  the  restoration  of  what  was  decayed. 


and  the  improvement  of  what  was  defective ;  and 
in  his  beautiful  sketches  and  masterly  engravings, 
extending  through  many  volumes,  he  has  given  us 
a  treasure-house  of  antiquarian  art,  and  made  the 
pencil  and  the  graver  not  only  perpetuate  and 
preserve  much  that  has  long  been  mouldering  into 
shapeless  ruin,  but  has  also  supplied  many  a  new 
model  of  improved  beauty,  suggested  by  his  own 
genius,  and  carried  into  effect  by  his  own  zeal  and 
perseverance."  Britton  was  born  in  1771,  and 
died  in  1857. 

The  well-known  historian,  Edward  Hall,  who 
wrote  the  "Chronicles,"  a  work  which  furnished 
material  for  so  many  of  the  dramatic  productions 
of  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  was  a  reader,  at 
one  time,  in  Gray's  Inn.  We  find  his  name  men- 
tioned in  connection  with  a  pension  of  the  bench  of 
Gray's  Inn,  held  i6th  May  (31  Henry  VIII.),  when 
the  king's  command  that  all  images  of  Thomas 
k-Becket,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  II.,  should  be  removed  from  churches  and 
chapels,  was  taken  into  consideration.  It  was 
then  ordered  that  Edward  Hall  should  see  to  the 
taking  out  of  a  certain  window  in  the  chapel  of 
this  house,  "  wherein  the  picture  of  the  said  arch- 
bishop was  gloriously  painted,"  and  place  another 
in  its  stead,  descriptive  of  Christ  praying  on  the 
mount.  Hall  was  born  about  the  last  year  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  in  the  parish  of  St.  Mildred's, 
London.  He  died  in  1547,  and  was  buried,  but 
without  any  memorial,  in  the  church  of  St.  Benet 
Sherehog,  London.  His  "Chronicles"  has  been 
differently  appreciated  by  antiquaries.  Bishop 
Nicholson  speaks  of  it  disrespectfully,  and  says  it 
is  but  a  record  of  the  fashions  of  sumrner  clothes ; 
but  Peck  vindicates  Hall  with  some  energy.  Hall 
was  no  favourer  of  the  clergy. 

Amongst  other  antiquarian  members  of  Gray's 
Inn  we  may  mention  Rymer,  whose  work,  the 
''  Foedera,"  has  given  him  a  European  reputation. 
Rymer  was  born  in  Yorkshire,  and  after  studying  at 
Cambridge  removed  to  Gray's  Inn.  He  adopted 
the  profession  of  the  law,  and  in  1692  succeeded 
Shadwell  in  the  post  of  historiographer  to  King 
William  III.  His  death  took  place  on  the  loth  of 
December,  1713,  and  he  found  a  grave  in  St. 
Clement  Danes. 

In  Gray's  Inn  lived  Dr.  Rawlinson,  who  stuffed 
four  chambers  so  full  of  books  that  he  had  to  sleep 
in  the  passage.  He  was  the  original  of  Tom  FoHo, 
so  pleasantly  described  in  No.  158  of  the  Taller: 
"  Tom  Folio  is  a  broker  in  learning,  employed  to 
get  together  good  editions,  and  stock  the  libraries 
of  great  men.  There  is  not  a  sale  of  books  begms 
till  Tom  Folio  is  seen  at  the  door.     There  is  not 


Holbom  Inns  of  Court] 


TOM  FOLIO. 


569 


an  auction  where  his  name  is  not  heard,  and  that, 
too,  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  in  the  critical  moment, 
before  the  last  decisive  stroke  of  the  hammer. 
There  is  not  a  subscription  goes  forward  in  which 
Tom  is  not  privy  to  the  first  rough  draft ,  of  the 
proposals,  nor  a  catalogue  printed  that  does  not 
come  to  him  wet  from  the  press.  He  is  an  universal 
scholar,  so  far  as  the  title-page  of  all  authors ; 
knows  the  manuscripts  in  which  they  were  dis- 
covered, the  editions  through  which  they  have 
passed,  with  the  praises  or  censure  which  they  have 
received  from  the  several  members  of  the  learned 
world.  He  has  a  greater  esteem  for  Aldus  and 
Elzevir  than  for  Virgil  and  Horace.  If  you  talk  of 
Herodotus,  he  breaks  out  into  a  panegyric  upon 
Harvey  Stephens.  He  thinks  he  gives  you  an 
account  of  an  author  when  he  tells  you  the  subject 
he  treats  of,  the  name  of  the  editor,  and  the  year 
in  which  it  was  printed.  Or,  if  you  draw  him  into 
further  particulars,  he  cries  up  the  goodness  of  the 
paper,  extols  the  diligence  of  the  corrector,  and  is 
transported  with  the  beauty  of  the  letter.  This  he 
looks  upon  to  be  sound  learning  and  substantial 
criticism.  As  for  those  who  talk  of  the  fineness  of 
style  and  the  justness  of  thought,  or  describe  the 
brightness  of  any  particular  passages ;  nay,  though 
they  write  themselves  in  the  genius  and  spirit  of 
the  author  they  admire,  Tom  looks  upon  them  as 
men  of  superficial  learning,  and  flashy  parts." 

The  quiet  seclusion  of  Gray's  Inn  has,  in  by- 
gone times,  formed  the  retreat  of  many  distinguished 
poets  and  literary  men.  It  was  the  residence  of 
George  Chapman,  the  poet,  who  was  born  in  1557, 
and  died,  honoured  and  beloved,  in  1634. 

Chapman  deserves  best  to  be  kept  in  remem- 
brance for  his  translation  of  Homer,  whom  he 
speaks  of  as  "  the  prince  of  poets,  never  before  truly 
translated" — a  production  which  has  excited  the 
admiration  of  many  distinguished  critics.  Cole- 
ridge, in  sending  it  to  a  friend  for  perusal,  specially 
recommends  the  "  Odyssey."  "  The  '  Iliad,' "  he 
says,  "  is  fine,  but  less  equal  in  the  translation,  as 
well  as  less  interesting  in  itself  What  is  stupidly 
said  of  Shakespeare  is  really  true  and  appropriate 
of  Chapman — mighty  faults,  counterpoised  by 
mighty  beauties.  Excepting  his  quaint  epithets, 
which  he  affects  to  render  literally  from  the  Greek, 
.  .  .  it  has  no  look,  no  air  of  a  translation.  It 
is  as  truly  an  original  poem  as  the  '  Fairy  Queen.' 
It  will  give  you  small  idea  of  Homer,  though  a  far 
truer  one  than  Pope's  epigrams  or  Cowper's  cum- 
bersome, most  anti- Homeric  Miltonism.  For 
Chapman  writes  and'  feels  as  a  poet— as  Homer 
might  have  written  had  he  lived  in  England  in  the 
reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth.     In  short,  it  is  an  ex- 


quisite poem,  in  spite  of  its  frequent  and  perverse 
quaintnesses  and  harshnesses,  which  are,  however, 
amply  repaid  by  almost  unexampled  sweetness  and 
beauty  of  language,  all  over  spirit  and  feeling.  In 
the  main,  it  is  an  English  heroic  poem,  ^the  tale  of 
which  is  borrowed  from  the  Greek.'' 

Sir  Philip  Sidney,  the  author  of  "  Arcadia,"  and 
the  gallant  Governor  of  Flushing,  was  at  one  time 
a  student  here.  And  Butler,  the  immortal  autlior 
of  "  Hudibras,"  seems  also,  says  Mr.  Pearce,  "  to 
have  had  a  chamber  some  time  in  the  inn,  as  one 
of  his  biographers  has  supposed  he  was  a  member 
of  the  house." 

About  the  year  1756  Dr.  Johnson  was  a  resident 
in  Gray's  Inn,  but  for  a  short  time  only. 

Oliver  Goldsmith  occupied  chambers  in  Gray's 
Inn  early  in  1764,  while  his  attic  in  the  library 
staircase  of  the  Temple  was  preparing.  He  was 
now  at  work  for  the  Dodsleys,  and  we  get  a  glimpse 
of  his  straitened  circumstances  in  the  following 
brief  note  to  Mr.  James  Dodsley  : — "  Sir,"  it  runs, 
being  dated  from  "  Gray's  Inn,"  and  addressed  "  to 
Mr.  James  Dodesley  in  Pall  Mall,"  on  the  loth  of 
March,  1764,  "  I  shall  take  it  as  a  favour  if  you  can 
let  me  have  ten  guineas  per  bearer,  for  which  I 
promise  to  account.  I  am,  sir,  your  humble  ser- 
vant, Oliver  Goldsmith.  P.S.  I  shall  call  to 
see  you  on  Wednesday  next  with  copy,  &c." 
Whether  the  money  was  advanced,  or  the  copy 
supplied  in  time,  does  not  appear. 

A  nephew  of  Goldsmith,  when  in  town  with  a 
friend,  proposed  to  call  on  Uncle  Oliver,  in  Gray's 
Inn,  when  he  was  setting  to  work  on  his  "Animated 
Nature."  They  expected  to  find  him  in  a  well- 
furnished  library,  with  a  host  of  books;  when, 
greatly  to  their  surprise,  the  only  book  they  saw 
in  the  place  was  a  well-thumbed  part  of  BufFon's 
"  Natural  History." 

The  outspoken  William  Cobbett,  the  writer  of 
the  famous  "PoHtical  Register,"  and  as  true  a 
representative  of  the  John  Bull  character  as  ever 
lived,  was  for  some  years  a  clerk  in  the  chambers 
of  a  gentlemen  of  this  inn. 

We  may  conclude  this  notice  of  Gray's  Inn  with 
the  following  table,  exhibiting  the  yeariy  rental 
of  the  Inns  of  Court  and  Chancery,  as  given  in 
Murray's  "  Handbook  to  Modern  London,"  1874. 


Lincoln's  Inn /33>329 

Inner  Temple 25,676 

Gray's  Inn 16,035 

Middle  Temple 12,640 

Fiimival's  Inn 4.386 

Staple's  Inn 2,553 

Barnard's  Inn........  1,031 

Besides  Gray's  Inn,  there  lie  in  Holbom,  Furni- 


Clement'slnn ;^i,6S3 

Clifford's  Inn 818 

Lyon's  Inn 423 

New  Inn 1,646 

Serjeants' Inn 1,600 

Total ^^101,790 


57° 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbom  Inns  of  Chancery. 


val's  Inn,  Thavie's  Inn,  Barnard's  Inn,  and  Staple's 
Inn.  Of  these  the  first  two  have  ceased  to  be 
directly  representative  of  the  law ;  the  other  two 
Inns  of  Chancery,  however,  still  retain  many  legal 
features  of  interest. 

To  some  an  explanation  of  the  nature  and 
object  of  the  Inns  of  Chancery  may  here  be  ac- 
ceptable. These  then  will  welcome  the  following 
extract   from   the   interesting  work  of  Mr.  J.  C. 


Inn  of  Court  higher  admission  fees  were  charged 
to  students  coming  firom  Inns  of  Chancery  over 
which  it  had  no  control,  than  to  students  who  came 
from  its  own  primary  schools.  If  the  reader  bear 
in  mind  the  difference  in  respect  to  age,  learning, 
and  privileges  between  our  modern  public  school- 
boys, and  university  undergraduates,  he  will  realise 
with  sufficient  nearness  to  truth  the  differences 
which    existed    between   the    Inns   of    Chancery 


EXTERIOR  OF  FURNIVAL's   INN,    1 754. 


Jeaffreson,  "A  Book  about  Lawyers.''  "The 
Inns  of  Chancery,"  he  says,  "  for  many  generations 
maintained  towards  the  Inns  of  Court  a  position 
similar  to  that  which  Eton  School  maintains  to- 
wards King's  at  Cambridge,  or  that  which  Win- 
chester School  holds  to  New  College  at  Oxford. 
They  were  seminaries  in  which  lads  underwent 
preparation  for  the  superior  discipline,  and  greater 
freedom  of  the  four  colleges.  Each  Inn  of  Court 
had  its  own  Inns  of  Chancery,  yearly  receiving  from 
them  the  pupils  who  had  qualified  themselves  for 
promotion  to  the  status  of  Inns-of-Court-men.  In 
course  of  time  students,  after  receiving  the  pre- 
liminary education  in  an  Inn  of  Chancery,  were 
permitted  to  enter  an  Inn  of  Court,  on  which  their 
Inn  of  Chancery  was  not  dependent ;   but  at  every 


students  and  the  Inns  of  Court  students  in  the 
fifteenth  century ;  and  in  the  students,  utter-bar- 
risters, and  benchers  of  the  Inns  of  Court  at  the 
same  period  he  may  see  three  distinct  orders  of 
academic  persons  closely  resembling  the  under- 
graduates, bachelors  of  arts,  and  masters  of  arts 
in  our  own  universities.'' 

Furnival's  Inn,  between  Brooke  Street  and 
Leather  Lane,  was  originally  the  town  mansion  of 
the  Lords  Furnival.  It  belonged  some  time,  says 
Stow,  "to  William  Fumivall,  knight,  who  had  in 
Holbom  two  messuages  and  thirteen  shops,  as 
appeareth  by  record  of  Richard  II.,  in  the  6th  of 
his  reign."  It  was  an  Inn  of  Chancery  in  the  9th 
of  Henry  IV.,  was  held  under  lease  in  the  time  of 
Edward  VI.,  and  was  sold,  early  in  Elizabeth's 


Holbom  Inns  of  Chancery.] 


FURlsriVAL'S  INN. 


S7I 


572 


OLD  AND  NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbom  Inns  of  Chancery. 


reign,  to  the  benchers  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  who  appear 
to  have  formerly  had  the  lease  of  it. 

In  Charles  I.'s  time  the  greater  part  of  the  old 
inn  described  by  Stow  was  taken  down  and  a  new 
building  erected  in  its  stead.  "  The  Gothic  Hall," 
says  Cunningham,  "with  its  timber  roof  (part  of 
the  original  structure),  was  standing  in  1818,  when 
the  whole  inn  was  rebuilt  by  Mr.  Peto,  the  con- 
tractor, who  obtained  a  lease  of  the  ground/'  In 
the  square  is  a  statue  of  Peto.  Fumival's  Inn  is 
let  in  chambers,  but  is  no  longer  an  Inn  of  Chan- 
cery. Part  of  its  interior  is  occupied  by  a  hotel. 
The  Society  of  Furnival's  Inn  ceased  to  exist  as  a 
community  about  181 7. 

The  arms  of  Furnival's  Inn  are — argent,  a  bend 
between  six  martlets,  with  a  bordure  azure. 

A  street  disturbance  is  mentioned  by  Stow,  in 
his  "Annals,"  in  which  the  leading  member  of  this 
Inn  got  into  trouble  : — "  In  the  32nd  of  Henry  VI. 
a  tumult  betwixt  the  gentlemen  of  Inns  of  Court 
and  Chancery  and  the  citizens  of  London,  hap- 
pening in  Fleet  Street,  in  which  some  mischief  was 
done,  the  principals  of  Clifford's  Inn,  Furnival's 
Inn,  and  Barnard's  Inn  were  sent  prisoners  to 
Hartford  Casde." 

The  famous  Sir  Thomas  More  was  "  reader  by 
the  space  of  three  years  and  more  "  in  this  Inn. 
He  was  a  member  of  Lincoln's  Inn.  Of  this  great 
Lord  Chancellor  of  the  r,eign  of  Henry  VIII.,  one 
of  the  most  illustrious  men  of  that  period,  how 
much  might  be  told  !  He  was  the  son  of  Sir  John 
More,  an  honest  judge  of  the 'King's  Bench,  who 
had  some  humour  in  him,  if  what  Camden  records 
be  true.  Speaking  of  the  lottery  of  marriage,  he 
used  to  say,  "I  would  compare  the  multitude  of 
women  which  are  to  be  chosen  for  wives  unto  a 
bag  full  of  snakes,  having  among  them  a  single 
eel.  Now  if  a  man  should  put  his  hand  into  this 
bag,  he  may  chance  to  light  on  the  eel,  but  it  is  a 
hundred  to  one  he  shall  be  stung  by  a  snake."  It 
has  been  observed,  however,  that  he  himself  ven- 
tured to  put  his  hand  three  times  into  the  bag,  for 
he  married  three  wives ;  nor  was  the  sting  so 
hurtful  as  to  prevent  his  arriving  at  the  age  of 
ninety,  and  even  then  he  did  not  die  of  anything 
else  than  a  surfeit,  occasioned  by  eating  grapes. 

Sir  Thomas  was  his  son  by  his  first  wife.  He 
also  was  not  afraid  of  snakes.  "Having  deter- 
mined," we  are  told,  "  by  the  advice  and  direction 
of  his  ghostly  father,  to  be  a  married  man,  there 
was  at  that  time  a  pleasant  conceited  gendeman,  of 
an  ancient  family  in  Essex,  one  Mr.  John  Colt,  of 
New  Hall,  that  invited  him  into  his  house,  being 
much  delighted  in  his  company,  profferiijg  unto 
him  the  choice  of  any  of  his  daughters,  who  were 


young  gentlewomen  of  very  good  carriage,  good 
complexions,  and  very  religiously  inclined ;  whose 
honest  and  sweet  conversation,  and  virtuous  educa- 
tion, enticed  Sir  Thomas  not  a  little ;  and  although 
his  affection  most  served  him  to  the  second,  for 
that  he  thought  her  the  fairest  and  best  favoured, 
yet  when  he  thought  within  himself  that  it  would 
be  a  grief  and  some  blemish  to  the  eldest  to  have 
the  younger  sister  preferred  before  her,  he,  out  of 
a  kind  of  compassion,  settled  his  fancy  upon  the 
eldest,  and  soon  afterwards  married  her,  with  all 
his  friends'  good  liking." 

This  marriage  proved  fairly  happy,  but,  before 
many  years  had  passed,  Jane  Colt  died.  More 
then  put  his  hand  a  second  time  into  the  bag,  and 
this  time  had  the  ill  luck  to  draw  out  a  scorpion. 
He  proposed  to  a  widow,  named  Alice  Middleton, 
who  would  have  done  well  enough  for  a  superior 
domestic  servant :  his  good  judgment  and  taste 
deserted  him  when  he  decided  to  make  her  a 
closer  companion.  Bustling,  loquacious,  tart,  the 
good  dame  scolded  servants  and  petty  tradesmen 
with  admirable  effect ;  but,  even  at  this  distance  of 
time,  the  sensitive  ear  is  pained  by  her  sharp,  gar- 
rulous tongue,  when  its  ascerbity  and  virulence  are 
turned  against  her  pacific  and  scholarly  husband. 
She  had  no  sympathy  for,  no  feelings  in  common 
with  him ;  he  had  as  little  in  common  with  her. 

Both  humorous  and  pathetic,  it  has  been 
remarked,  was  that  memorable  interview  between 
More  and  Mrs.  Alice,  in  the  Tower,  when  she, 
regarding  his  position  by  the  light  with  which  she 
had  been  endowed  by  Nature,  advised  him  to  yield 
even  then  to  the  king.  "What  the  good-year, 
Mr.  More !"  cried  she,  bustling  up  to  the  tranquil 
and  courageous  man.  "I  marvel  that  you,  who 
have  been  hitherto  always  taken  for  a  wise  man, 
will  now  so  play  the  fool  as  to  lie  here  in  this 
close-fitting  prison,  and  be  content  to  be  shut  up 
thus  with  mice  and  rats,  when  you  might  be  abroad 
at  your  liberty,  with  the  favour  and  good  will  of 
the  king  and  his  council,  if  you  would  but  do  as  the 
bishops  and  best  learned  of  his  realm  have  done. 
And  seeing  you  have  at  Chelsea  a  right  fair  house, 
your  library,  your  books,  your  gallery,  and  all  other 
necessaries  so  handsome  about  you,  where  you 
might,  in  company  ynth  me,  your  wife,  your  children, 
and  household,  be  merry,  I  muse  what,  in  God's 
name,  you  mean  here  thus  fondly  to  tarry."  Having 
heard  her  out,  preserving  his  good-humour,  he  said 
to  her,  with  a  cheerful  countenance,  "  I  pray  thee, 
good  Mrs.  Alice,  tell  me  one  thing."  "What  is 
it  ?"  saith  she.  "  Is  not  this  house  as  near  heaven 
as  my  own  ?"  The  two  were  thinking  of  very 
different  things.     Sir  Thomas  More  had  his  eye  on 


Holbom  Inns  of  Chancery.] 


BRIBING   A  JUDGE. 


573 


heaven.      Mrs.  Alice  had  hers  on  "the  right  fair 
house  at  Chelsea." 

More,  with  all  his  talent,  learning,  and  wit,  had 
in  him  a  great  deal  of  bigotry  and  superstition. 
When  about  twenty  years  old  he  began  to  practise 
monkish  austerities,  wearing  a  sharp  shirt  of  hair 
next  his  skin,  which  he  never  left  off  entirely,  even 
when  he  was  Lord  Chancellor.  As  a  lay  Carthusian 
he  at  one  time  disciplined  his  bare  back  with 
scourges,  slept  on  the  cold  ground  or  a  hard  bench, 
with  a  log  for  a  pillow,  allowed  himself  but  four 
or  five  hours'  sleep  in  the  night,  and  by  a  score 
of  other  strong  measures  sought  1;o  preserve  his 
spiritual  by  ruining  his  bodily  health. 

He  comes  before  us,  very  hfe-like  and  pleasing, 
in  connection  with  the  charges  of  bribery,  which 
at  the  time  of  his  fall  were  preferred  against  him 
before  the  Privy  Council.  One  story  of  this  period 
has  been  often  repeated.  A  Mrs.  Croker  being 
opposed  in  a  suit  to  Lord  Arundel,  sought  to  win 
Sir  Thomas  Mora's  favour ;  so  she  presented  him 
with  a  pair  of  gloves  containing  forty  angels.  With 
a  courteous  smile  he  accepted  the  gloved,  but  con- 
strained her  to  take  back  the  gold.  The  gentle- 
ness of  the  rebuff  is  charming. 

In  Fumival's  Inn  Charles  Dickens  lived  from 
shortly  after  his  entering  the  reporters'  gallery  till 
1837,  and  it  was  here  that  the  proposal  that  origi- 
nated "  Pickwick"  was  made  to  him.  Dickens  has 
himself  described  to  us  what  passed  at  an  interview 
which  must  be  regarded  as  a  happy  one  by  all 
admirers  of  the  novehst.  Mr.  Seymour,  the  artist, 
had  proposed  to  do  a  series  of  cockney  sporting 
plates,  which  it  was  thought  would  take  with  the 
public,  if  accompanied  by  letterpress,  and  published 
in  monthly  parts.  "The  idea,"  says  Dickens, 
"propounded  to  me  was  that  the  monthly  some- 
thing_  should  be  a  vehicle  for  certain  plates  to  be 
executed  by  Mr.  Seymour ;  and  there  was  a  notion, 
either  on  the  part  of  that  admirable  humorous 
artist,  or  of  my  visitor,  Mr.  Hall,  that  a  '  Nimrod 
Club,'  the  members  of  which  were  to  go  out  shoot- 
ing, fishing,  and  so  forth,  and  getting  themselves 
into  difficulties  through  their  want  of  dexterity, 
would  be  the  best  means  of  introducing  these.  I 
objected,  on  consideration,  that  although  born  and 
partly  bred  in  the  country,  I  was  no  great  sports- 
man, except  in  regard  to  all  kinds  of  locomotion ; 
that  the  idea  was  not  novel,  and  had  aheady  been 
much  used ;  that  it  would  be  infinitely  better  for 
the  plates  to  arise  naturally  out  of  the  text ;  and 
that  I  would  like  to  take  my  own  way,  with  a  freer 
range  of  English  scenes  and  people,  and  was  afraid 
I  should  ultimately  do  so  in  any  case,  whatever 
course  I  might  prescribe  to  myself  at  starting.     My 


views  being  deferred  to,  I  thought  of  '  Pickwick,' 
and  wrote  the  first  number  ;  from  the  proof-sheets 
of  which  Mr.  Seymour  made  his  drawing  of  the 
club  and  his  happy  portrait  of  its  founder.  I  con- 
nected Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  club  because  of  the 
original  suggestion,  and  I  put  in  Mr.  Winkle 
expressly  for  the  use  of  Mr.  Seymour.''  Between 
the  first  and  second  number  of  "  Pickwick,"  Mr. 
Seymour  died  by  his  own  hand,  and  Mr.  H.  K. 
Browne  was  eventually  chosen  to  fill  his  place  as 
illustrator.  But  that  is  apart  from  Furnival's  Inn 
history,  so  we  may  leave  the  rest  of  the  story 
untold. 

Thavie's  Inn  was  formerly  an  Inn  of  Chancery, 
appertaining  to  Lincoln's  Inn.  It  was  sold,  how- 
ever,  by  that  society  in  177 1  to  a  Mr.  Middleton. 
Having  been  subsequently  destroyed  by  fire,  a 
range  of  private  buildings  was  erected  on  its  site. 
The  name  it  bears  is  derived  from  John  Thavie, 
a  liberal-minded  armourer,  with  whom  we  have 
already  met  when  speaking  of  St.  Andrew's.  In 
1348  he  bequeathed  certain  houses  in  Holbom, 
returning  a  large  rental,  for  the  support  of  the 
fabric  of  that  interesting  edifice. 

"  I  must  and  will  begin  with  Thavies  Inne,"  says 
Sir  George  Buc,  "for  besides  that  at  my  first 
coming  to  London,  I  was  admitted  for  probation 
into  that  good  house,  I  take  it  to  be  the  oldest  Inn 
of  Chancery,  at  the  least  in  Holborn.  It  was 
before  the  dwelling  of  an  honest  citizen  called 
John  Thavie,  an  armourer,  and  was  rented  of  him 
in  the  time  of  King  Edward  III.  by  the  chief 
professors  then  of  the  law,  viz..  Apprentices,  as 
it  is  yet  extant  in  a  record  in  the  Hustings,  and 
whereof  my  Lord  Coke  showed  to  me  the  tran- 
script, but  since  that  time  it  was  purchased  for 
the  students  and  other  professors  of  the  Law  of 
Chancery  by  the  Benchers  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  about 
the  reign  of  King  Henry  VII.,  and  retaineth  the 
name  of  the  old  landlord  or  owner.  Master  Thavie." 

Barnard's  Inn  is  an  Inn  of  Chancery  appertain- 
ing to  Gray's  Inn.  Formerly  it  was  called  Mack- 
worth's  Inn,  and  in  the  days  of  Henry  VI.  we  find 
it  a  messuage  belonging  to  Dr.  John  Mackworth, 
Dean  of  Lincoln.  At  the  time  of  its  conversion  into 
an  Inn  of  Chancery,  it  was  in  the  occupation  of  one 
Barnard,  and  his  name  it  has  retained  ever  since. 

The  arms  of  Barnard's  Inn  are  those  of  Mack- 
worth— party  per  pale,  indented  ermine  and  sables, 
a  cheveron,  gules,  fretted  or. 

The  old  hall  of  Barnard's  Inn  is  the  smallest  of 
all  the  halls  of  the  London  Inns  ;  it  is  only  thirty- 
six  feet  long,  twenty-two  feet  wide,  and  thirty  feet 
high.  It  contains  a  fine  full-length  portrait  of  the 
upright  and  learned  Lord  Chief  Justice  Holt,  for 


574 


OLD   AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbom  Inns  of  Chancery. 


some  time  principal  of  Barnard's  Inn ;  and  also  of 
Lord  Burleigh,  Lord  Bacon,  Lord  Keeper  Coventry, 
and  other  eminent  men. 

In  the  time  of  Elizabeth  there  were  112  students 
in  this  Inn  in  term,  and  24  out  of  term ;  in  1855 
there  were,  including  the  principal,  ancient,  and 
companions,  in  all,  18  members. 

A  behever  in  alchemy,  Mr.  Peter  Woulfe,  F.R.S., 
lived,  about  seventy  years  ago,  in  Barnard's  Inn,  No. 
2,  second-floor'  chambers.  He  was  an  eminent 
chemist,  and,  according  to  Mr.  Brande,  "the  last 
true  believer  in  alchemy.''  But  little  is  known  of 
his  life.  "  Sir  Humphrey  Davy  tells  us,"  says  Mr. 
Timbs,  in  his  "  Century  of  Anecdotes,"  "  that  he 
used  to  hang  up  written  prayers  and  inscriptions  of 
recommendations  of  his  processes  to  Providence. 
His  chambers  were  so  filled  with  furnaces  and 
apparatus  that  it  was  difficult  to  reach  the  fireside. 
Dr.  Babington  told  Mr.  Brande  that  he  once  put 
down  his  hat  and  could  never  find  it  again,  such 
was  the  confusion  of  boxes,  packages,  and  parcels, 
that  lay  about  the  room.  His  breakfast  hour  was 
four  in  the  morning ;  a  few  of  his  friends  were 
occasionally  invited,  and  gained  entrance  by  a  secret 
signal,  knocking  a  certain  number  of  times  at  the 
inner  door  of  the  chamber.  He  had  long  vainly 
searched  for  the  elixir,  and  attributed  his  repeated 
failure  to  the  want  of  due  preparation  by  pious  and 
charitable  acts.  Whenever  he  wished  to  break 
with  an  acquaintance,  he  resented  the  supposed 
injuries  by  sending  a  present  to  the  offender  and 
never  seeing  him  again.  These  presents  sometimes 
consisted  of  an  expensive  chemical  product  or 
preparation.  He  had  an  heroic  remedy  for  illness, 
which  was  a  journey  to  Edinburgh  and  back  by 
the  mail-coach ;  and  a  cold  taken  on  one  of  these 
expeditions  terminated  in  inflammation  of  the  lungs, 
of  which  he  died." 

His  last  moments  were  remarkable.  In  spite 
of  his  serious  illness,  he  strenuously  resisted  all 
medical  advice.  By  his  desire  his  laundress  shut 
up  his  chamber,  and  left  him.  She  returned  at 
midnight,  when  he  was  still  alive;  next  morning, 
however,  she  found  him  dead,  his  countenance 
being  calm  and  serene;  apparently  he  had  not 
moved  from  the  position  in  which  she  had  seen 
him  last. 

A  contemporary  of  Woulfe,  also  an  alchemist, 
is  mentioned  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  his  paper  on 
astrology  and  alchemy,  in  the  Quarterly  Review 
(1821).  About  1801  this  enthusiast  lived,  or  rather 
starved,  in  the  metropoHs,  in  the  person  of  an 
editor  of  an  evening  journal.  He  expected  to 
compound  the  alkahest,  if  he  could  only  keep  his 
materials  digested  in  a  lamp-furnace  for  the  space 


of  seven  years.  The  lamp  burnt  brightly  during 
six  years,  eleven  months,  and  some  odd  days  be- 
sides, and  then  unluckily  it  went  out.  Why  it 
went  out  the  adept  never  could  guess ;  but  he  was 
certain  that  if  the  flame  could  only  have  burnt  to 
the  end  of  the  septennary  cycle,  his  experiment 
must  have  succeeded. 

An  order  made  by  the  authorities  of  Barnard's 
Inn,  in  November,  1706,  throws  some  light  on 
legal  manners  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  This  order  named  two  quarts  as  the 
allowance  of  wine  to  be  given  to  each  mess  of  four 
men,  on  going  through  the  ceremony  of  "  initiation." 
Of  course  this  amount  of  wine  was  an  "extra" 
allowance,  in  addition  to  the  ale  and  sherry  allotted 
to  members  by  the  regular  dietary  of  the  house. 
"  Even  Sheridan,"  Mr.  Jeaffreson  remarks,  "  who 
boasted  he  could  drink  any  ^ven  quantity  of  wine, 
would  have  thought  twice  before  he  drank  so  large 
a  given  quantity,  in  addition  to  a  liberal  allowance 
of  stimulant.  Anyhow,  the  quantity  was  fixed — a 
fact  that  would  have  elicited  an  expression  of 
approval  from  Chief  Baron  Thomson,  who,  loving 
port  wine  wisely,  though  too  well,  expressed  at  the 
same  time  his  concurrence  with  the  words  and  his 
dissent  from  the  opinion  of  a  barrister  who  ob- 
served, '  I  hold,  my  lord,  that,  after  a  good  dinner, 
a  certain  quantity  of  wine  does  no  harm.'  With  a 
smile,  the  Chief  Baron  rejoined,  'True,  sir,  it  is  the 
uncertain  quantity  that  does  the  mischief.' " 

During  the  "No  Popery"  riots  of  1780,  Bar- 
nard's Inn  very  nearly  fell  a  sacrifice  to  one  of 
those  wild  acts  of  incendiarism  which  at  that  time 
disgraced  the  metropolis.  It  stood  next  to  the 
extensive  premises  of  Langdale's  distillery,  and 
Mr.  Langdale  was  both  the  object  of  indignation 
and  interest  to  the  mob  :  in  the  first  place,  he  was 
a  Roman  Catholic ;  and  in  the  second,  he  had  a 
plentiful  store  of  tempting  liquor  in  his  hands. 
The  attack  on  Langdale's  distillery,  and  its  sub- 
sequent destruction  by  fire,  were  among  the  most 
striking  scenes  of  the  famous  riots.  What  ardent 
spirits  escaped  from  the  flames  were  swallowed  by 
the  rioters.  Many  of  them  are  said  to  have  hterally 
drunk  themselves  dead ;  women  and  children  were 
seen  drinking  from  the  kennels,  which  flowed  with 
gin  and  other  intoxicating  liquors ;  and  many  of 
the  rabble,  who  had  dmnk  themselves  into  a  state 
of  insensibihty,  perished  in  the  flames.  A  Dr. 
Warner,  who  had  passed  the  night  in  his  chambers 
in  Barnard's  Inn,  writes  thus  on  the  following 
morning  to  George  Selwyn: — "The  staircase  in 
which  my  chambers  are  is  not  yet  burnt  down, 
but  it  could  not  be  much  worse  for  me  if  it 
were.     However,  I  fear  there  are  many  scores  of 


Holborn  tnns  of  Chancery.] 


A  LITTLE   STORY-BOOK:. 


575 


poor  creatures  iri  this  town  who  have  suffered  this 
night  much  more  than  I  have,  and  with  less  ability 
to  bear  it.  Will  you  give  me  leave  to  lodge  the 
shattered  remains  of  my  little  goods  in  Cleveland 
Court  for  a  time?  There  can  be  no  Hving  here, 
even  if  the  fire  stops  immediately,  for  the  whole 
place  is  a  wreck ;  but  there  will  be  time  enough  to 
think  of  this.  But  there  is  a  circumstance  which 
distresses  me  more  than  anything ;  I  have  lost  my 
maid,  who  was  a  very  worthy  creature,  and  I  am 
sure  would  never  have  deserted  me  in  such  a 
situation  by  her  own  will;  and  what  can  have 
become  of  her  is  horrible  to  think !  I  fervently 
hope  that  you  and  yours  are  free  from  every  distress. 
....  Six  o'clock.  The  fire,  I  believe,  is  nearly 
stopped,  though  only  at  the  next  door  to  me.  But 
no  maid  appears.  When  I  shall  overcome  the 
horror  of  the  night,  and  its  consequences,  I  cannot 
guess.  But  I  know,  if  you  can  send  me  word  that 
things  go  well  with  you,  that  they  will  be  less  sad 
with  me.'' 

Staple  Inn  is  an  Inn  of  Chancery  appertaining 
to  Gray's  Inn.  The  tradition  is  that  it  derives  its 
name  from  having  been  originally  an  inn  or  hostell 
of  the  merchants  of  the  (wool)  staple.  With  this 
explanation,  until  a  better  is  given,  we  must  rest 
satisfied.  It  became  an  Inn  of  Chancery  in  the 
time  of  Henry  V.,  and  the  inheritance  of  it  was 
granted,  20th  Henry  VIII.,  to  the  Society  of  Gray's 
Inn.  The  Holborn  front  is  of  the  time  of  James  I., 
and  is  worthy  of  notice  as  one  of  the  oldest  existing 
specimens  of  our  metropolitan  street  architecture. 
The  hall  is  of  a  later  date,  has  a  clock  turret,  and 
originally  possessed  an  open  timber  roof  Some 
of  the  armorial  glass  in  the  windows  of  the  hall 
date  as  far  back  as  1500.  There  are  a  few  portraits 
— amongst  them  are  those  of  Charles  II.,  Queen 
Anne,  the  Earl  of  Macclesfield,  Lord  Chancellor 
Cowper,  and  Lord  Camden — and  at  the  upper 
end  is  the  woolsack,  the  arms  of  the  Inn.  Upon 
brackets  are  casts  of  the  twelve  Csesars.  In  the 
garden  adjoining  used  to  be  a  luxuriant  fig-tree, 
which  had  spread  itself  over  nearly  all  the  south 
side  of  the  hall.  Upon  a  terrace  opposite,  the 
offices  of  the  taxing-masters  in  Chancery  are 
situated.  They  were  completed  in  1843,  ^^^  ^^^ 
in  the  purest  style  of  the  reign  of  James  I.  The 
arched  entrances  and  semi-circular  oriels  are  highly 
effective.  The  open-work  parapet  of  the  terrace, 
and  the  lodge  and  gate  leading  to  Southanjpton 
Buildings,  are  very  picturesque.  The  Inn  is 
divided '  into  two  courts,  with  a  pleasant  garden 
behind. 

The  doorway  shown  in  our  illustration  on  page 
36s  is  mentioned  by  Dickens  m  "  Edwin  Drood." 


By  it  one  entered  the  chambers  of  Mr.  Grewgious. 
What  P.  J.  T.  meant,  carved  on  the  stone  above 
the  door — whether  Possibly  John  Thomas,  or 
Possibly  Joe  Tyler,  or  what— the  reader  will 
recollect  occasionally  formed  an  innocent  subject 
of  speculation  to  Mr.  Grewgious. 

In  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  there  were  145 
students  in  Staple  Inn,  in  term,  and  69  out  of 
term — the  largest  number  in  any  of  the  houses  of 
Chancery. 

Reading  and  mootings  were  observed  here  with 
commendable  regularity.  Sir  Simon  d'Ewes  men- 
tions that,  on  the  17th  of  February,  1625,  he  went 
in  the  morning  to  Staple  Inn,  and  there  argued  a 
moot  point,  or  law  case,  with  others,  and  they  did 
not  abandon  the  exercise  till  near  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon. 

Isaac  Reed,  who  died  in  1807,  had  chambers 
here.  It  was  in  Reed's  chambers  that  Steevens 
corrected  the  proof-sheets  of  his  well-known  edition 
of  Shakespeare.  His  habits  were  peculiar.  He 
used,  says  Peter  Cunningham,  to  leave  his  house  at 
Hampstead  at  one  in  the  morning,  and  walk  to 
Staple  Inn.  Reed,  who  went  to  bed  at  a  reason- 
able hour,  allowed  his  facetious  fellow-commentator 
the  luxury  of  a  latch-key,  so  Steevens  stole  quietly 
to  his  work,  without  disturbing  the  repose  of  his 
friend. 

Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  removed  to  chambers  in 
this  Inn,  on  the  breaking  up  of  his  establishment 
in  Gough  Square,  Fleet  Street,  where  he  had 
resided  for  ten  years.  We  find  him  writing,  under 
date  of  23rd  March,  1759,  to  Miss  Porter  : — 

"Dear  Madam, — I  beg  your  pardon  for  having  so  long 
omitted  to  write.  One  thing  or  other  has  put  me  ofif.  I  have 
this  day  moved  my  things,  and  you  are  now  to  direct  to  me 
at  Staple  Inn,  London.  .  .  .  I  am  going  to  publish  a 
little  story-book,  which  I  will  send  you,  when  it  is  out. 
Write  to  me,  my  dearest  girl,  for  I  am  always  glad  to  hear 
from  you. — I  am,  my  dear,  your  humble  servant, 

"  Sam.  Johnson." 

The  "litde  story-book"  was  "Rasselas,"  which 
he  seems  to  have  written  here,  at  least,  in  part. 
Of  this  entertaining  and,  at  the  same  time,  pro- 
found performance,  Boswell  says:— "Johnson  wrote 
it,  that  with  the  profits  he  might  defray  the  expense 
of  his  mother's  funeral,  and  pay  some  little  debts 
which  she  had  left.  He  told  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
that  he  composed  it  in  the  evenings  of  one  week, 
sent  it  to  press  in  portions,  as  it  was  written,  and 
had  never  since  read  it  over.  Mr.  Strahan,  Mr. 
Johnston,  and  Mr.  Dodsley  purchased  it  for  ^100, 
but  afterwards  paid  him  £25  more,  when  it  came 
to  a  second  edition." 

"  Considering  the  large  sums  which  have  been 


S76 


OLD  AND   NEW  LONDON. 


[Holbom. 


received  for  compilations,  and  works  requiring  not 
much  more  genius  than  compilations,  we  cannot 
but  wonder,"  adds  Boswell,  ''  at  the  very  low  price 
which  he  was  content  to  receive  for  this  admirable 
performance,  which,  though  he  had  written  nothing 
else,  would  have  rendered  his  name  immortal  in 
the  world  of  literature.  None  of  his  writings  has 
been  so  extensively  difiused  over  Europe ;  for  it 
has  been  translated  into  most,  if  not  all,  of  the 
modern  languages.  This  tale,  with  all  the  charms 
of  Oriental  imagery,  and  all  the  force  and  beauty 
of  which  the  English  language  is  capable,  leads  us 
through  the  most  important  scenes  of  human  life, 
and  shows  us  that  this  stage  of  our  being  is  full  of 
'vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit !'  To  those  who  look 
no  further  than  tlie  present  life,  or  who  maintain 
that  human  nature  has  not  fallen  from  the  state  in 
which  it  was  created,  the  instruction  of  this  sub- 
lime story  will  be  of  no  avail ;  but  those  who  think 


justly,  and  feel  with  strong  sensibility,  will  listen  with 
eagerness  and  admiration  to  its  truth  and  wisdom." 
There  was  an  alarming  fire  in  Staple  Inn,  27th 
November,  1756.  It  consumed  several  chambers, 
and  two  women  and  two  children  perished  in  the 
flames.     The  hall  fortunately  escaped  destruction. 

With  this  description  of  Holbom  and  the  Inns  of 
Court,  which  form  its  most  interesting  feature,  we 
terminate  our  account  of  Old  and  New  London 
east  of  Temple  Bar.  In  the  succeeding  volumes 
we  shall  move  westward,  from  the  same  starting 
point,  along  the  Strand,  through  Westminster,  and 
the  western  portions  of  London,  a:nd  across  the 
water  into  Southwark.  The  ground  over  which  we 
shall  travel  will  be  found  as  replete  with  memories 
and  associations  of  past  history,  and  striking 
features  of  modem  progress,  as  any  of  that  which 
we  have  already  surveyed. 


CORNELL  UNIVERS  TY  LIBRARY 


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